Thich Nhat Hanh clarifies key Dharma principles in this work by weaving together classical Buddhist stories with very simple, concrete images from daily life. Traditional narratives such as the story of Kisā Gotamī and the mustard seeds, the transformation of Angulimāla, and the parable of the man struck by an arrow are all retold in a direct, accessible way. Kisā Gotamī’s search for a house untouched by death illuminates the universality of suffering and the nature of clinging and release. Angulimāla’s encounter with the Buddha becomes a vivid demonstration of the possibility of deep transformation through understanding and compassion. The parable of the wounded man who refuses treatment until all his speculative questions are answered is used to show that the Dharma functions as a practical, therapeutic path rather than a system of metaphysical doctrines.

Alongside these inherited stories, he relies heavily on everyday activities to make the path tangible. Washing the dishes, drinking a cup of tea, walking, breathing, and eating are all presented as opportunities for mindfulness and concentration, not as mundane chores to be hurried through. When one washes dishes just to finish them, the present moment is lost; when one washes simply to wash, with full awareness, that act itself becomes peace and freedom. Similarly, to truly drink tea requires full presence; otherwise, it is the past or the future that “drinks” in one’s place. These homely examples show that liberation is cultivated in the midst of ordinary life, not apart from it.

To illuminate deeper teachings such as interbeing, emptiness, and non-self, he turns to striking yet familiar images. Looking deeply into a sheet of paper, he invites the reader to see the cloud, the rain, the sunshine, the logger, the worker, and even the food that sustained them, demonstrating that the paper “inter-is” with all things and is empty of a separate self. The wave and the water illustrate the same insight from another angle: the wave, fearing birth and death, discovers that in its true nature as water it has never really been born and will never truly die. The image of a car, which cannot be found apart from its parts, serves to show that “self” is likewise only a conventional designation for the five aggregates.

He also uses organic and psychological metaphors to clarify how suffering and happiness are transformed. The mind is likened to a garden of seeds—anger, joy, understanding—where what is watered by attention will grow, making karma intelligible as an ongoing process of mental cultivation. Garbage and compost become symbols of how anger, fear, and despair can be transformed into understanding and compassion, just as refuse becomes rich soil for flowers. The crying baby in need of gentle holding stands for painful mental formations that require care rather than rejection. Through such images, the Dharma appears not as an abstract philosophy but as a living art of transforming suffering into the very ground of awakening.