The word Zen is an English adaptation of the Japanese Buddhist term for meditation. Meditation can clear mental clutter to let us be vividly aware of the moment-to-moment nitty-gritty experience of our daily lives and our professional work. When we engage clients and ourselves in the situation with immediacy, clarity, connection, and openness, then genuine empathy and skillfully compassionate actions can flow within the helping relationship.

Professor Bein’s approach to social work has been informed through Zen-based insights, but it is not limited to them. He presents Zen insights without the trappings of specific Zen traditions and religious beliefs. In this way, some Zen wisdom becomes applicable to professionals and clients who have no knowledge or interest in Zen per se. He has been open both about his appreciation for Zen and also about his intention to share insights without advocating for or against any particular religion. His studies under Zen teachers who have adapted East Asian-originated Zen teachings and practices to a worldwide context prepared him well for this task. For example, his teacher Joan Halifax Roshi, of the Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico, is committed to socially engaged Buddhism that is open to everyone and that reaches out especially to the oppressed, the imprisoned, and the dying. This approach to socially engaged Buddhism is highly consistent with the professional mission and values of social work (see www.upaya.org/, retrieved January 3, 2008).

Dr. Bein’s effort to extract Buddhist insights from a religion-specific context for wider nonsectarian use is akin to the development of dialectical behavior therapy, now widely used in mental health settings (especially regarding borderline personality disorder), which drew on basic insights of Zen meditation and philosophy as well as conventional cognitive-behavioral therapy, without explicit use of Zen terms (Hayes, Follette, & Linehan, 2004). Similarly, Japanese Morita and Naikan therapies have adapted Buddhist originated practices of meditation, self-reflection, retreat, and skillful action to a nonsectarian and spiritually attuned psychotherapy approach (see www.todoinstitute.org/morita.html, retrieved January 3, 2008). The psychiatric social worker Philip Martin (1999) has likewise looked into the way Zen can be applied in a nonsectarian manner to dealing with depression.

This book continues in a tradition of social work writers who draw on insights from existentialism, Taoism, and Zen to challenge prevalent types of interventions bound to rigid rules, roles, diagnoses, and prescriptions (e.g., Brandon, 2000; Krill, 1978, 1986, 1990). Such interventions are controlled, monitored, and intruded into clients’ lives (albeit with good intentions) by experts who have convinced themselves that they know more than they really do. In contrast to expert interventionism, Professor Bein’s mindful and open-hearted style of practice has an affinity with the social work strengths perspective and positive psychology, which have shifted professional helping from a preoccupation with problems and pathologies to a celebration of aspirations and talents, surviving and thriving, solutions and recoveries, resources and transformations, and paradoxes and epiphanies of whole persons and their communities (Saleebey, 2006; Snyder & Lopez, 2007). We are invited into dialogue and partnership with clients.

As Professor Bein points out, this does not mean we should entirely throw out rules, roles, diagnoses, boundaries, plans, and evaluations. All of these can be useful within the context of a vital, dynamic, flexible, creative, and holistic helping relationship. As a Zen saying has it: being tied to concepts is like being a goat tied to a stick in the ground. Such a goat can roam only within a narrow range. Once all the grass is eaten, the goat will starve unless someone unties it. Concepts, theories, research evidence, and practiced skills should be in service to the real, emergent, and unpredictable particular happenings of the helping relationship. Practice wisdom uses these as skillful means for helping but is never tied down to them.

The Zen of Helping is a way of expressing spiritually sensitive practice (Canda & Furman, 1999). Spiritually sensitive practice is attuned to the highest goals, deepest meanings, and most practical requirements of clients. It seeks to nurture persons’ full potentials through relationships based on respectful, empathic, knowledgeable, and skillful regard for their spiritual perspectives, whether religious or nonreligious. It promotes peace and justice for all people and all beings. We can be grateful that Professor Bein has shared his own spiritually sensitive practice wisdom in such an honest, accessible, and practical way.

Some years ago, the author of this book, Andrew Bein, came to Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I was moved at how he, a person of principles and sensitivity, absorbed the tenets of Zen, its practice, its very heart. He not only did so-called Zen practice, but he also attended the Los Alamos Bearing Witness Retreat that I had organized to mark the 60th Memorial of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Part of the retreat was at our Zen Center, where two Japanese survivors of the bombing gave powerful testimony to their experience. Part was at Los Alamos where we joined many others who were also acknowledging the truth of suffering that war engenders. There I think he really got a taste of what it was to "bear witness" as this was the theme of the retreat and we explored bearing witness from many different perspectives, and it was easy to get polarized in this particular situation.

In the many experiences that Andy has had at Upaya Zen Center and in his life as a father, husband, friend, teacher, and skilled social worker, he has crafted a set of principles or guidelines that make the work of harmonizing society truly humane. These principles are deeply embedded in the practice of Zen, which simply means to be nonseparate from all beings and things.

Andy says that Zen means to be intimate with all that is. This is what he means by authentic presence, a presence where there is no subject and no object, but where deep mutuality is present. This is the base of caregiving, of social work, of all human relationships, and truly of all relationships with all phenomena. We as humans so often need to be reminded that this kind of intimacy is no different than the right hand taking care of the left hand.

Andy also points out that the work of caring for others is based in what my teacher Bernie Glassman Roshi calls "not-knowing." How can we be with a client or a patient without the "diagnostic category" mediating our experience? Andy points out that the partner of not-knowing is uncertainty, and the interesting challenge of living in a world that is inherently characterized by uncertainty. But being a therapist or helper in a world of uncertainty might be difficult for some. Thus he suggests that we explore a way to relate to those for whom we give care with a base in the experience of immediacy.

Over the many years of teaching meditation practice, I have used the metaphor from the Tibetan teacher Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche of "strong back, soft front." This has become a hallmark of my life because I, like Andy, often work with people who are caught in the terrible vise of suffering. If we look at the inverse of "strong back, soft front," we see that strong front is our defense against the world; soft back is our fear. So much of authentic Zen practice is getting this situation straightened out. How do we nourish the relationship between compassion (soft front) and equanimity (strong back)? How do we develop both tenderness and resilience as caregivers? This question is one that comes up again and again in my work with dying people, and certainly is important for anyone doing social work or providing counseling, support, or care.

Andy also values the development of mental stability and emotional balance so that we can trust our response to the world around us instead of being a tangled mass of reactivity and personalization. In this regard, he teaches us the wonder of the radical acceptance of the present moment, of what is, of things as they are. Only if we accept reality, all of it, are we in a position to transform it, and thus the theme of this book.

In this regard, our author addresses Glassman Roshi’s second tenet after not-knowing and that is the tenet of bearing witness. How do we open ourselves to all the joy and suffering in the world? And furthermore, when we do respond, how can our actions skillfully contribute to healing and reducing suffering—Glassman’s third tenet—rather than polarization.

In all this, a social worker or counselor must genuinely care, have empathy, be compassionate, and sustain presence in the face of suffering without collapsing under the weight of the pain in this world. Thus, a helping practitioner not only connects others to their own truth and to inner and outer resources, but as well connects himself or herself to inner and outer resources, and in this way practices good self-care.

The deep and wonderful work that social workers and other helping practitioners do is reflected in this book, in the real life stories, challenges, questions, and wisdom we find on every page. A social worker, counselor, psychologist, chaplain, or nurse is one who connects the visible and invisible dots through a deep practice based in caring, compassion, presence, and authenticity. This is engendered by loving attention to each being and thing, a fundamental practice of so-called nonduality in the small and great. This is the heart of Andy Bein’s book, and the very heart of an authentic life.

Regardless of spiritual orientation or religious background, your inner life is reflected on the pages of this book in a unique manner. You no longer have to be spiritually neutered while you explore how and why you work with clients. This book serves as a vehicle to discuss, understand, and accept your compassion and aspirations for clients, as well as your own disappointments and doubts. It helps you return to the essence of helping—embracing uncertainty and opening your heart—and to connect with the depth of your inner capacity to help.

This book is designed to be not only a vehicle for a validating heartfelt experience, but as a guide for you to tap into your own spiritual resources as you sit down with clients. Zen provides a foundation for enhancing your practice and self-care skills because its principles are congruent with the helping practices of social work, counseling, psychology, nursing, and medicine. You learn about the gift of practitioner presence and what it takes for you to give that gift to your clients. The book transcends or—as the chapter subtitles suggest—goes beyond traditional helping-professional books, which tend to admonish practitioners to be good nonjudgmental listeners, aware of counter-transference. The Zen of Helping deeply grapples with the real moment-to-moment issues for helping practitioners such as how to care while letting go, how much to consider the body and breath while maintaining presence, how to generate and maintain radical acceptance, how to create a container for client pain and trauma, how to be nondefensive in the midst of client anger, and how to cultivate courage and a sense of calling that influences day-to-day practice. Those with Christian, Muslim, Jewish, and eclectic backgrounds will find a home within this book. Each individual adapts the principles and practices to her or his spiritual or humanistic container.

I believe that the book’s spiritual orientation and use of self-emphasis have profound consequences for practitioners and the clients whom they serve. The book will help the practitioner develop the proficiency to enter the uncertain world of the helping endeavor and create an environment where the client will thrive. Spiritual principles, thus, are pragmatically related to practice effectiveness throughout.

As one student with 4 years of social work training and a few years of field placement experience commented:

The Zen of Helping is not spiritual mush, however, where we learn how to hang out and just be present for clients. The book is informed by 23 years of practice experience that includes work in a wide variety of settings—from the Chicago and Sacramento public schools, to inner-city, Latino-focused agencies, to agencies with child protective services’ contracts, to low-income substance abuse programs, to diverse counseling and private practice settings. Additionally, I mention some of my own personal struggles in order to make the principles accessible and to show practical self-care applications as well as personal successes and failures.

In Chapter 1, we learn that Zen involves being intimate with what is, and that entering a helping encounter becomes an opportunity to "awaken to the fundamental unity with the eternal universe right under our noses" (Austin, 1998, p. 12). The book is an "under-our-nose" guide that will enhance our practice effectiveness and our abilities to take care of ourselves. An opening quotation regarding Zen and helping is playfully analyzed. The chapter makes clear that the book’s Zen principles are compatible with the world’s spiritual and religious traditions. Zen is more about practices that align us with being awake, alive, psychologically healthy and intimate with the world, than it is about adopting a set of beliefs. The book’s terrain is not linear, and you are invited to rejoice in the surprise, the paradox, and the ambiguity.

One of the book’s main principles is discussed in Chapter 2—strong back, soft front. Zen teacher Joan Halifax has refined this practice principle through her years of service in prisons and hospice. Our strong back is needed to transcend the organism’s fight-or-flight responses to distress or uncertainty and to provide the equanimity needed for a skillful response. Zen’s emphasis on cultivating a still and settled mind is discussed here. Strong back metaphors related to the natural world and sitting posture—whether meditating or in-session—make the construct compelling and memorable. Our soft front works in tandem with our strong back. Soft front helping involves our open-hearted response to the suffering, challenges, and triumphs of our clients. Overall, the strong back, soft front metaphor leads us to move below our neck and embody the experience of helping.

Intimacy and practice with this concept profoundly affect the helping practitioner’s outlook and practice. One skeptical student reported on the benefits of working with a strong back and soft front:

The social context for offering strong back, soft front help is presented. Similar to the way kindergarten-through-12 public education objectifies children through test-score obsession, reductionist thinking is becoming more prevalent for people in the helping fields. The Zen of Helping joins voices with others critically examining the limitations of the evidence-based paradigm (e.g., Duncan, Miller, & Sparks, 2004), demanding that we face the nuanced reality of our work with clients, client situations, and service site contexts.

Chapter 3 discusses radical acceptance, which is one of the core principles of dialectical behavior therapy pioneer Marsha Linehan. Linehan’s belief is that, by itself, cognitive behavior therapy’s unrelenting focus on change is counterproductive and needs to be balanced with radical acceptance strategies and practitioner outlook. One student commented on how a radical acceptance thread was present for her:

Radical acceptance is not a stance of docility and inaction. It is argued that—through facing things as they are—radical acceptance prepares the practitioner to take constructive action. Radical acceptance is not for wimps.

Mindfulness is presented in Chapter 4. You do not have to be a meditator to teach or learn from this chapter. Accounts of practical mindfulness applications and simple exercises provide a glimpse of mindfulness’ potential for helping practitioners. Guided mindfulness activities such as eating a raisin create memorable experiences that are generalizable to the practice world.

Although caring is mentioned often as a curative factor for clients, it receives scant attention in helping professional literature. Chapter 5 discusses the importance of caring and how we can manifest caring through our genuine curiosity regarding our clients’ lives. Our waxing and waning energy to care for people is explored, and we learn how opening up to inspiration serves as a protective factor.

Bearing witness to trauma and pain is the topic of Chapter 6. Mainstream literature (e.g., Mollica, 2006) suggests that bearing witness sometimes offers the most powerful components in the treatment of trauma. We discuss how we bear witness to our own pain and how the boundless nature of pain and suffering provide opportunities to enter into a spiritual connection with our clients. The dilemma of maintaining client-practitioner boundaries as we sit in boundlessness is examined, and we consider the phenomenon of the "wounded healer." The wounded healer, as in the tradition of the shaman, may bring personal gifts and talents for bearing witness. Alternatively, the beginner’s mind of the relatively unscathed may be perfectly suited. The chapter offers examples of each archetype. Bearing witness on the macro level is also investigated as a way to face social trauma and to respond effectively. A political action example is presented that is congruent with Zen’s emerging tradition of socially engaged practice.

In Chapter 7, we explore how to move beyond a dualistic framework. In Zen, the middle way is advanced to illuminate so-called polarities that are actually two sides of the same coin—in other words, completely dependent on one another. When we embrace the middle way, we do not attach ourselves to either side of the coin, and thus move beyond dualities. We embrace the apparent contradiction between "no big deal"—one practitioner’s mantra—and the need to pay careful, mindful attention to small details. We look at a common debate that occurs regarding the strengths perspective versus the disease model. My own experience having an adolescent daughter diagnosed with schizophrenia helps the discussion evolve beyond scholarly intellectualizations and dogma. Middle way applications move to a macro level, and the duality related to resisting versus surrendering to service site rules and structure is addressed. The practitioner who understands and embraces the middle way while working within institutional settings becomes an effective advocate as shown in a case example.

Throughout the book, we are encouraged to let go of concepts that interfere with direct experience. However, the description of the book’s practice path is, ironically, laced with concepts. The very suggestion that our work as helpers is fundamentally about uncertainty is, in fact, a concept about our work. Ultimately, we realize that we embrace the middle way between being conceptual and nonconceptual and learn that the middle way itself is just one more concept. As Zen master Genpo Merzel (2003) says: "We are freed from this trap (of paradox) when we realize that there is no way to be free of it" (p. 133).

In Chapter 8, we develop skills for allowing our client’s spiritual world to enter the room. We first realize the potential that the clients’ spiritual views or religious practices have for transforming their lives. Although we may be uncertain how to proceed, we consider the possibility that it may be more unethical to not account for client spirituality than it is to ignore or gloss over these opportunities. We move beyond our fears and concerns and learn how to ask questions about topics like prayer or beliefs regarding a higher power. We examine the dualism between religion and spirituality. Some practitioners may have a degree of comfort with spiritual matters but much less so with religious practices or traditions. We learn to walk the middle way between religion and spirituality and start the conversation with whatever side of the equation makes sense to the client. Bobby Griffith’s struggles as a gay adolescent growing up in a Christian fundamentalist home makes clear the reality of our need to "have the conversation" despite our different levels of knowledge regarding scripture. The conversation inevitably involves creating a dialog in an environment of respect and curiosity. This chapter may be read before others to provide a base for infusing "the conversation" into their work with clients or for conducting ethnographic interviews with nonclients.

Natalie Goldberg and Joan Halifax offer a Zen approach to failure. Failure does not imply being blameworthy, negligent, ignorant, or uncaring. In Chapter 9, we embrace the reality that things do not turn out the way we wish they would and that our efforts—however skillful or not—are part of the story or chain of events that involve client and/or practitioner disappointment, chaos, heartbreak, or broken dreams. Embracing failure means that we do not have to protect an image of the self. The way is paved to forgive ourselves as well as other people whose lives are similarly littered with failure.

This chapter offers personal life and practitioner examples of failure. As we acknowledge our own failures, we bring lightheartedness as well as soft vulnerability to our clients. Some clients have lost children to Child Protective Services because they cared more about drugs than about being a parent, some have destroyed their relationships through anger and violence, some have not known how to act in a given situation, and some have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our ability to embrace our own stories of failure allows for our clients to do the same (if this is what makes sense for them). Ironically, embracing these stories decreases their power over us.

In Chapter 10, we discuss our challenges in meeting the needs of our clients. Although we may shy away from the term warrior, it is important to face that we often need to swim upstream in order to realize the sacred path of helping others. As mentioned earlier in the book, there are those who seek to reduce the helping endeavor to quantitative puzzles and who may have little patience for the spiritual principles advanced here. In addition to swimming upstream against convention, we also meet our own medical, emotional, familial, and social challenges that test our resolve and our mettle. We therefore endeavor to cultivate the qualities that nourish the warrior’s heart needed to negotiate difficult waters. At times, the warrior’s path involves letting go.

The text of a Vietnam War veteran’s moving speech illustrates the principles within this chapter. When we start with our traumas, insecurities, and failures, we let go of the armor that would prevent us from realizing the ultimate aim of Zen—to be aware and be intimate with what is. In spite of our difficulties, we realize our inherent fearlessness to love the universe.

The chapter concludes with a discussion about cultivating a sense of purpose regarding our work. How did I become a helping practitioner? What is this path I am traveling? How will my sense of the bigger picture be reflected in all of my interactions?

Case studies, exercises, anecdotes, and poetry make the book engaging and accessible. The Zen of Helping could supplement a practice text, particularly in an advanced practice or mental health class, and it could be a primary or supplementary text in a Social Work, Psychology/Counseling, and Spirituality class. Persons interested in the interface between Eastern thought or Buddhism and the human services or psychotherapy as well as those looking for spiritual sustenance in the helping fields—including nurses, doctors, hospice workers, community volunteers, public school educators, and complementary health-care providers—can embrace The Zen of Helping.

My wife Bella and children Emily and Sam have given me all the life lessons that anyone could ask for. I cannot begin to express what it means to live with the gifts of Bella’s presence, Emily’s courage, and Sam’s integrity. I am eternally grateful for our family dance as we live the 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows together. Bella, thank you for always being there.

I have crossed paths with outstanding teachers to whom I am deeply indebted. In some instances, I was not able to provide a precise reference for their pearls of wisdom. Their words are part of me and may have entered my consciousness by way of a particular dharma talk, audiotape, book, video, or private conversation. I want to especially thank Zen teachers: Reb Anderson, Darlene Cohen, Ed Brown, and Genpo Merzel as well as Zen student and psychologist, Marsha Linehan. Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh’s books, tapes, retreats, and Community of Mindful Living introduced me to Buddhism. His heroic life of nonviolence and principled living reveals what is possible for humanity. I also want to acknowledge the profound teachings of Vipassana teachers Jack Kornfield and James Baraz.

Zen Priest, Joan Halifax Roshi’s heart and wisdom splash through the entire book. Her profound eclectic insight, willingness to swim upstream, and commitment to relieve suffering are blessings for the world. On a personal level, I am grateful for her continued support, presence, and guidance. Thank you, Roshi, as well, for contributing the Foreword.

I want to thank Ed Canda, PhD, for contributing the other Foreword to the book and for his useful suggestions regarding the book’s content. I wish to thank other professional colleagues and personal friends for their support as well as for their efforts to tune into the essence of the helping encounter: David Nylund, Dale Russell, Susan Taylor, Robin Kennedy, Jill Kelly, Sylvester Bowie, Francis Yuen, Mimi Lewis, David Demetral, Sylvia Navari, Krishna Guadalupe, Santos Torres, Janice Gagerman, John Erlich, Ron Boltz, Lynn Cooper, Chrys Barranti, and Teiahsha Bankhead. Susan Orr is my ex-officio dharma teacher and dearest friend. I cannot express my gratitude for your presence, wisdom, and wonderful heart. Prominent among the many people who enrich my life are Kevin Smith, Paula and Miguel Barrios, Stephanie Brown, Noah Horowitz, Olivia Alvarado, Corina Delfin, Brenda Mitchell, Michael, Elizabeth, and Nancy Bein, Michelle Palomares, Roland Olson, Mary Reilly, Poshi Mikalson, and Reed Walker, who assisted with editing.

I am fortunate to have the support of two leaders who manifest a strong back and soft front, Robin Carter, DPA, Director of the Division of Social Work at Sacramento State, and Karen Larsen, MFT, Director of John H. Jones-Communicare. I also want to acknowledge Marilyn Hopkins, PhD, Dean of the College of Health and Human Services, and the Sacramento State University administration for supporting my moving forward on this endeavor. Lauren Evans, Adene Fordyce, Niki Otong, and Dale Threkel were part of a wonderful graduate class that was first exposed to portions of The Zen of Helping; thank you for your permission to use excerpts from your course papers.

A special thanks to Alan Rinzler at Wiley-Jossey Bass for his initial enthusiasm about this project and his helpful suggestions. Lisa Gebo at Wiley became the book’s editor and then life interfered; her presence is missed as she is healing from illness. Lisa could write the book on mindful and open-hearted editing. Wiley’s caring treatment of its employees makes me proud to be working with them. I also wish to express my gratitude to Sweta Gupta for shepherding this book into production.

Finally, I want to thank all the wonderful clients, students, clinicians, and helpers who have enriched my life. May this book—in some small way—honor your own truth, courage, and resilience, and may this book help others.