Basic Questions on Detachment,
Nonviolence, and Compassion
Singapore, August 10, 1988
Revised excerpt
from
Berzin, Alexander and Chodron, Thubten. Glimpse of Reality.
Singapore:
Amitabha Buddhist Centre, 1999.
Question: What is the meaning of detachment?
Answer: The Buddhist meaning of detachment is slightly different from what
the word normally means in English. Detachment in Buddhism is connected with renunciation.
The word "renunciation" in English is also misleading, for it implies
that we have to give up everything and go live in a cave. Although there are examples
of people like Milarepa who did give up everything and live in a cave, what they
did is referred to by a different word, not the word that is translated as "renunciation"
or "detachment". The word that has been translated as "renunciation"
actually means "the determination to be free". We have a strong determination:
"I must get out of my own problems and difficulties. My mind is totally firm
on that goal." We want to give up our ego games because we are determined
to be free from all the problems they cause. This does not mean that we have to
give up a comfortable house or the things that we enjoy. Rather, we are trying
to stop the problems that we have in relation to these objects. That leads us
to detachment.
Being detached does not mean that we cannot enjoy anything
or enjoy being with anyone. Rather, it refers to the fact that clinging very strongly
to anything or anyone causes us problems. We become dependent on that object or
person and think, "If I lose it or cannot always have it, I am going to be
miserable." Detachment means, "If I get the food I like, very nice.
If I do not get it, okay. It is not the end of the world." There is no attachment
or clinging to it.
In modern psychology, the word "attachment" has
a positive connotation in certain contexts. It refers to the bonding that occurs
between a child and parent. Psychologists say that if a child does not have the
initial attachment to the parents, there will be difficulties in the child's development.
Again, it is problematic to find the appropriate English word to convey the Buddhist
meaning, for the Buddhist connotation of attachment is quite specific. When the
Buddhist teachings instruct that we need to develop detachment, it does not mean
that we do not want to develop the child-parent bond. What is meant by "detachment"
is ridding ourselves of clinging and craving for something or someone.
Question:
Is there a difference between a detached action and a morally positive action?
Answer: Before I address that, just as an aside, I prefer the word "constructive"
rather than "virtuous." "Virtuous" and "nonvirtuous"
imply a moral judgment, which is not what is meant in Buddhism. There is no moral
judgment. Nor is there reward or punishment. Rather, certain actions are constructive
and others are destructive. If someone shoots people, that is destructive. If
someone beats the other members of the family, that is destructive. Everybody
agrees on this. There is no moral judgment involved. If we are kind and helpful
to others, that is very constructive or positive.
When we help others, we
can do it out of attachment or detachment. Helping someone out of attachment would
be, for example, "I will help you because I want you to love me. I want to
feel needed." We would say that this action of helping is still positive,
but the motivation is not the best.
In the discussion of karma, we differentiate
between the motivation and the action. We can do a positive action with a very
poor motivation. The positive action will result in some happiness, while the
poor motivation will result in some suffering. The opposite could also be true:
the action is negative C for example, we hit our child C but the motivation was
positive B it was in order to save his or her life. For example, if our little
boy is about to run out onto the road and we just say sweetly, "Oh dear,
do not run into the road," that will not stop him. If we grab our son and
give him a whack on the bottom, he could resent it and cry, so there is a little
negative result of that action. Nevertheless, the motivation was positive and
the positive result is much larger than the negative one, because the boy was
saved. Also, our son appreciates the fact that we care for him.
The same may
be true of a constructive action: it may be motivated by detachment, which is
always better, but it may also be done with attachment.
Question: Does compassion
imply that we must always be passive and complying, or are forceful methods sometimes
permitted?
Answer: Compassion must not be "idiot compassion" in
which we give everybody anything he or she wants. If a drunkard wants whiskey
or if a murderer wants a gun, it certainly is not compassion to fulfill his or
her wishes. Our compassion and generosity must be coupled with discrimination
and wisdom.
Sometimes, it is necessary to act in a forceful way C to discipline
a child or to prevent a horrible situation from occurring. Whenever possible,
it is better to act in a nonviolent manner to prevent or correct a dangerous situation.
However, if that does not work and we see that the only way to end the danger
right away is to act forcefully, then it would be considered as unwillingness
to help if we did not use this method. Nevertheless, we need to act in a way that
does not cause great harm to others.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama was asked
a similar question in an interview and he gave an example: a man goes to a river
that is extremely difficult and dangerous to cross and is going to swim across
it. Two people are watching nearby and they both know that if this person goes
in the river, he will drown in the current. One looks on placidly and does nothing
C he thinks he must be nonviolent and that this means he must not interfere. The
second person shouts out to the swimmer and tells him not to go into the water.
The current is dangerous. The swimmer says, "I don't care. I'm going in anyway."
They argue and finally, in order to stop the swimmer from killing himself, the
person on shore hits him and knocks him unconscious. In that situation, the person
who just sits by and is willing to watch the man go in the water and drown is
the one who commits an act of violence. The nonviolent person is the one who actually
stops the man from killing himself, even if he had to resort to a forceful method.
*********************
WISDOM
AND COMPASSION: BUDDHIST PSYCHOTHERAPY AS SKILLFUL MEANS
© 2002 Kerry
Moran
William James, the American writer and psychologist, predicted a
century ago that Buddhism would deeply influence Western psychology. Far ahead
of his time as usual, James' prediction is beginning to materialise. Western psychotherapists
are increasingly incorporating Buddhist principles and practices, applying them
in ways suited to our own modern culture. We see this synthesis in Jon Kabat-Zinn's
work with stress reduction, in techniques like Hakomi and Integrative Processing
Therapy, and in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, which uses Zen principles to work
with personality disorders. A uniquely Buddhist psychology is being articulated
by writers like John Welwood, Tara Bennett-Goleman, Mark Epstein, and Diane Shainberg.
This new field is called presence-centered psychotherapy, or sometimes contemplative
psychotherapy, after its meditative roots. It's a way of working that uses the
wisdom of the present moment, enhanced by a patient inquiry into body-centered
awareness, to unfold our innate potential for healing. It sounds simple, but it's
radical in practice.
The blossoming of presence-centered psychotherapy provokes
a still broader inquiry: What would a spiritually astute psychology look like,
and where might it lead? How might basic Buddhist principles like awareness and
compassion be applied in the consulting room? When mindfulness meditation is combined
with depth therapy, what kind of synergy can arise? What happens when we apply
pure awareness to what Daniel Goleman calls "the last great uncharted territory
of the mind" - our own emotions?
In my own life, depth psychology and
Buddhism have proven two mainstays of my personal path. I didn't start off as
a Buddhist practitioner - in fact, I managed to spend three or four years living
in Kathmandu, working as a journalist and trek leader, before I became aware of
a growing imperative inside me that said, Go see this teacher. Get to know him,
let him get to know you. I wrestled with this inner knowing for a while ("Are
you sure you're talking to me?"), because I felt extremely shy and awkward.
Still, some part of me seemed to know that I would just have to give that up.
Finally I went down to the monastery and introduced myself to the lama. It was
hard going for me, but I went back the next week, and the next, because that inner
knowing was still there, still nudging me. A little later I went to a 10-day teaching
seminar, and found the teachings to be pithy, earthy, and utterly sensible. It
was hardly a lightning-bolt conversion - nothing dramatic, no visions or thunderclaps
- but it felt workable, and I knew by that time I needed a spiritual discipline,
or I'd risk wandering in the woods of dilettantism. At the end of the teachings,
I made the decision to take refuge and become a Buddhist.
For the last 14
years I've studied and practiced in the Dzogchen tradition, which emphasises direct
recognition of the nature of mind - the essential pure awareness inherent within
each of us. For the past five years, I've practiced a form of depth psychotherapy
that's been deeply influenced by my Buddhist background. In my personal life as
well as in my work, I have found meditation practice and psychotherapy to be mutually
supportive. Each takes me to places the other doesn't necessarily go; together,
they open up new territory. The two traditions share a common bond in their focus
on deepening and stabilizing awareness. I've also found each to be a profound
source of strength in dealing with suffering, an aspect of life that is explicitly
acknowledged in both systems -- and almost as explicitly avoided by our present
society.
Buddhism and psychology are both technologies of the mind. Buddhism
excels in unbiased seeing, describing both ultimate reality and relative truth
with a clear-eyed profundity and a philosophical astuteness that's seldom been
equaled. Like all great spiritual systems, it offers the possibility of breaking
beyond the limitations of ego to a completely free and open experience of reality
that's known as enlightenment.
Psychotherapy, in contrast, delves into relative
reality -- specifically, the emotions, images and intuitions that shape our inner
lives. Ultimate truth is not the goal here: rather, therapy strives to untie the
knots of painful experiences by reworking past experiences and faulty perceptions.
Depth therapy adds power to this enterprise by cultivating an active relationship
with the unconscious, the uncontrolled but mighty hidden force that shapes our
lives. Therapy's forte is instigating emotional growth and refining interpersonal
skills -- areas that tend to be glossed over in many spiritual traditions.
Quite often, therapeutic work and spiritual work are placed in different categories,
with spirituality subtly valued as "higher." But we need only take a
look at our friends, our partners, or more importantly ourselves to acknowledge
that a spiritually developed soul is not always emotionally mature. Spiritual
ideals can provide the ultimate refuge from our unfinished emotional business.
John Welwood calls this "spiritual bypassing" - the temptation to go
up into the head, into unembodied spirituality, as a way to avoid our messy, painful
emotional and relational issues; to use our beliefs to defend against our feelings
of inadequacy. The big problem here is that this strategy simply doesn't work:
our unfinished business eventually catches up with us, no matter how hard we try
to "meditate" our way out of it. Whether you call it karma or just the
nature of reality, a basic psychological truth is that that which is repressed
only gains greater power, and that the only way out of an unpleasant situation
is through.
Blending psychological and spiritual work thus offers the potential
for a remarkably skillful approach, one that can both scale the heights and plumb
the depths, working both the vertical and horizontal dimensions of reality - the
spiritual and the embodied aspects of our lives. The two methods, in fact, have
the potential to be mutually reinforcing. An awareness-based spiritual practice
can support our emotional work, providing a spacious arena in which it can fully
unfold. Meanwhile, by wholeheartedly voyaging into our own depths, we embrace
the embodied and immediate aspect of our lives, mining the prima materia, the
raw substance of spiritual transformation. Exploring the depths of our own psyche
can broaden our spiritual understanding, grounding it in our own bodily experience
and honing our ability to compassionately connect with others. It's not a matter
of one method being "better" than the other, but rather a question as
to what particular tool is appropriate for a specific aspect of this individual
being at this exact time.
By working both sides of the equation -- emotional
and spiritual, relative and ultimate, psychology and Buddhism - we are able to
be grounded and open to larger realities, to "grow down," in James Hillman's
phrase, as well as to finally grow up; to develop both a workable, comfortable
human self and a broadened spiritual awareness.
Traditionalists may argue
that formal psychological work was not necessary for the Buddha, for example,
so why should it be for us? I've done a lot of thinking on this question, having
spent much of my adult life outside the United States. It's my observation that
traditional cultures like Nepal (where I lived for more than a decade) do not
experience the level of alienation, self-loathing, and doubt we suffer from here.
The stress of life in a highly competitive, insanely fast-paced materialistic
society creates an insidious form of psychological suffering that is no less painful
for its subtlety. Barraged with a constant stream of manipulative media messages,
isolated from the intricate community and family structures that have traditionally
support human growth, it's easy for us to feel isolated and confused. A pervasive
inner tension seems to distort our emotional lives, warping the natural unfolding
of a human being from child to adult. For many of us, it seems, unconscious patterns
from the past block our ability to be happy and fully present. We often feel separated
from our own experience by an invisible blockage or vague fear, a subtle disconnection
that cuts us off from our own nature.
This is an area where our souls are
begging for psychological as well as spiritual work. It may be that we suffer
such a deep rift in our collective psyche - the ancient Western split between
shadow and spirit, body and mind, materiality and spirituality -- that we need
a certain amount of psychological and emotional exploration to heal this primordial
wound. Without at least grounding ourselves in this process, we may simply not
be ready for intensive spiritual practice.
Tibetan Buddhist practices presuppose
a normally obnoxious human ego, one afflicted by healthy dollops of aggression,
desire, and selfishness. Within this context, an enormous range of techniques
exists to skillfully allow egocentricity to blossom into a more spacious state
of being. But when these fundamentally gritty human qualities are absent - when
early traumas, missed connections, or distortions of the growth process have damaged
ego growth -- there is no sense of self, but only a hollow void, or a storm of
negative voices. I recently read a transcript of a meeting between the Dalai Lama
and a group of Western meditation teachers, in which he was stunned to hear the
extent to which Americans in particular are tormented by what in psychological
language is called "negative self-image." This kind of "self-directed
contempt" doesn't exist in Tibetan culture, he commented.
Presence-centered
psychotherapy offers a creative response to our society's particular forms of
emotional suffering. By blending Eastern and Western wisdom, we are learning to
work with our own unique cultural neuroses in a transformative way, as we begin
to understand ourselves deeply and compassionately enough to create the space
for natural healing.
"SKILLFUL MEANS"
Thabla khepa or "skillful
means" is the Tibetan term for the most effective transformative tool appropriate
to a particular moment. Depending on circumstances, it may be placid or fierce,
gentle or rough - whatever best fits the situation. Compassion is considered the
quintessential skillful means: together with wisdom, it constitutes the basis
of Tibetan Buddhist practice. The bottom line is thus clear-eyed awareness and
a fundamental sense of kindness and acceptance, applied to oneself and the world
with equal generosity.
This is not just theoretical, conceptual truth: it's
the kind of truth that's meant to be lived. I found the practical implications
of these theories fleshed out in living color during my travels in Tibet in the
1980s. Four years in a row I explored Western and Central Tibet, using my rudimentary
Chinese and Tibetan to hitchhike rides on the backs of open trucks -- the de facto
method of public transportation. Over and over again, I met people who were both
grounded and open-hearted, possessed of both a bawdy sense of humor and a bedrock
spiritual faith that was unwavering despite forty-plus years of Chinese rule.
It would have been impossible to remain untouched by the stories I heard repeated
in calm, matter-of-fact voices: parents killed, relatives imprisoned, families
devastated, one blanket and no food for the children through the cold Tibetan
winter. Nearly everyone I met had a story to tell, especially about the upheavals
of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. They did so matter-of-factly, with little
bitterness, but all were quietly adamant on certain things: they want their country
back; they want their own government; most of all, they want the Dalai Lama to
return. "When the Dalai Lama comes back, I can die happy," my friend
Tenzin would say. "If I die before then . . . I cannot die."
Jolting
down the dusty dirt roads with groups of pilgrims and rowdy Khampa traders, I
sensed a spiritual grounding that allowed them to accept the ongoing flow of life,
be it pleasant or painful, in a solid yet graceful way. When a truck would break
down unexpectedly in the literal middle of nowhere, there was no moaning about
the misfortune. People just naturally took care of what needed to be done: some
gathered dried yak dung for cooking fuel, while others hauled jerrycans of water
or set up black yak-wool tents. An emissary would flag down a passing truck to
ride a hundred miles down the dirt road to obtain the necessary mechanical part,
and the rest of us would settle in for a day, or two, or three, of spirited gambling.
There was no sense of impatience, no complaining - just a remarkable ability to
deal with reality as it is, rather than how they wished it could be, a complete
openness to experience that I've come to identify as the essence and fruit of
Dharma practice.
In retrospect, I can say that this was my first inkling that
Buddhism was a practical spiritual path. If these people, shaped by a profoundly
Buddhist culture, managed to live life so completely, I thought, there might be
something to this. I don't mean to paint an overly idealistic picture here: I
also met up with some troubled individuals along the way. But on the whole I remain
convinced that traditional Tibetan society grows exceptional human beings, people
who are wonderfully and simply human. This striking combination of strength and
warmth is personified most famously by the Dalai Lama, whose charisma radiates
from his simple genuineness. You sense that there is no artifice here, just real
human warmth, rooted in a deeper strength that is grounded in the transpersonal.
So my introduction to Tibetan Buddhism began not with the formal theory, but with
the end result: the fully developed humanity, the cheerful strength and practical
wisdom that is the natural result of Buddhist practice. The Buddhist perspective
maintains that these qualities are inherent within all of us, and that the Dharma
practices are tools to clear away the obscurations that block the full and radiant
expression of our innately complete nature.
Wisdom and compassion are thus
matters of practical application, not just concepts. Presence-centered psychotherapy
applies these principles of wisdom and compassion to our own internal experience
as it is in the moment. Virtually all of us hold tight knots of holding and rejection
embedded within our experience. With a little observation, it's easy to see how
when something unpleasant happens, we tighten up and reject this unwanted sensation.
This kind of response seems natural -- after all, it's only common sense. Pushing
away suffering in order to attain happiness is a simple equation based on Newtonian
physics.
Unfortunately for us, Newton was wrong. We actually live in a quantum
universe where all points are connected throughout space and time in an invisible
web -- and the sooner our emotional intelligence catches up with this reality,
the better. Suffering and happiness, samsara and nirvana, are not mutually exclusive
opposites; rather, they are as closely linked as the back and front of your hand.
Buddhism points out that it's our attitude towards experience, much more than
the experience itself, which creates pleasure and pain.
By blindly grasping
and rejecting, choosing and pushing away, we slip into a frantic tailspin of hope
and fear. Our single-minded fixation only ends up creating more of the pain it
seeks to push away. This tangle of emotions becomes like a chronically tight knot
within our inner selves. In rejecting our own experience, we reject our own being,
and this becomes an ongoing source of pain, confusion and alienation.
As a
Buddhist, I am committed to the unfolding of awareness in the present moment.
As a psychotherapist, I am in continual awe of the healing that occurs when awareness
is brought to our old wounds, our contractions and rigidities. The awareness I
am speaking of here is not conceptual awareness, of the "my-mother-did-this-to-me-when-I-was-five-years-old-and-I'm-still-screwed-up"
variety. Rather, it's awareness itself, awareness pure and simple, awareness of
the type that is cultivated in meditation. This type of awareness applied in the
therapeutic context is an exceedingly powerful skillful means, because it taps
into what in Buddhism is known as "the spontaneous pure presence of natural
mind."
Postulating the human mind as inherently free and flawless is
a radical statement, especially from the disease-oriented medical perspective
of mainstream psychology. Our psyches, however, are not merely offshoots of our
bodies; nor are they mechanistic pieces of equipment. Our culture errs in describing
the personality exclusively through biology and brain chemistry, and errs further
in overemphasizing chemical means of resolution for psychic pain. I'm not denying
the blessings of psychopharmacology: rather, I'm saying that mainstream psychology
desperately needs an enhanced spiritual awareness to open up its claustrophobically
narrow view of the human soul.
The truth is that awareness itself is healing.
In recognising the truth of our own experiences as they exist in the moment, they
are released. The Dzogchen term for this is "natural self-liberation."
Recognising the essential nature of mind, our holding is naturally released, just
as the snake uncoils itself out of a knot, just as a word traced on the surface
of water disappears in the very moment it is written.
Mindfulness practice as embodied in meditation cultivates unconditional friendliness towards our own experience. It involves the radical practice of just being, without trying to do anything about how we are. To simply be with our own experience on a moment-by-moment basis and to treat it with a friendly attitude - this is the essence of mindfulness. It is a discipline, a skill, an art, a game, an endlessly fascinating pursuit with the potential to pervade every moment of life, awake and asleep.
RADICAL AWARENESS
The simplest proposition is also the most radical: that our basic nature is open
space infused with pure awareness. Beyond all our constructs and beneath all our
holding, each of us is no more and no less than spacious awareness - the capacity
to know, pure and simple. This "empty essence fused with luminous knowing"
is our absolute true nature, shared by all sentient beings.
Buddhist psychology
is rooted in this fundamental capacity for consciousness, this pure potential
inherent in all beings. When we recognise this seed of awareness at our core,
we realise that there's no need to embroider upon the fundamentally pure qualities
within us. It's not a question of self-improvement, of somehow making ourselves
into a "good person." Rather, it's simply a matter of releasing the
temporary obscurations that block us from manifesting our pure nature. Simple
but profound, this shift in attitude changes everything. We stop struggling with
our own nature, trying to make ourselves into something that we are not. We stop
identifying with the steady flow of conceptual thought that normally fills our
mind, and start identifying with our essence. Rather than constantly trying to
actualise ourselves, we wake up to our own actuality.
For most of us, this
is not an overnight event, but the gradual result of study, investigation, and
meditation practice, preferably under the guidance of an accomplished spiritual
teacher. In the Dzogchen tradition, the nature of mind is directly "pointed
out" to qualified students by a master who transmits his or her own realisation
in that moment. Even if we lack the opportunity to receive such teachings, simply
allowing for the mere possibility of enlightened essence can be psychologically
liberating. The need to try hard, to improve the self, to struggle for perfection,
is so deeply ingrained in the way we treat ourselves. Natural perfection is a
radical doctrine, subversive in its simplicity.
A traditional Buddhist metaphor
compares our essential nature to the sky, and the disturbing emotions we experience
to clouds. In truth, the sky is always there behind the clouds, whether or not
we see it -- the sky, in fact, accommodates the clouds, without being the least
bit disturbed by them. Our mind is the same, in its capacity to remain fundamentally
pure as it accommodates these endlessly arising emotions and thoughts. The Tibetan
yogi Milarepa said a thousand years ago:
In the gap between two thoughts
Thought-free
wakefulness manifests unceasingly.
When this understanding is applied to our
own inner being, we begin to relate to our problems from the spacious awareness
that is our basic nature. We learn to embrace the ongoing process of life with
a degree of calmness and acceptance. Problems become somewhat less tight knots
to be struggled with, and somewhat more intriguing phenomena arising within our
field of awareness. This is not to say that we pretend to like painful situations,
or that we paste a smiley face over our very real pain. Rather, through patient
practice, we somehow find we can allow space for our dislike, our suffering, and
our confusion - our actual and own experience.
And here is the incredibly
hard part - we start to drop our addiction to knowing, to analysing, to working
things out in our heads. Resting in mindfulness shows how all of these strategies
are simply masquerades for the fundamental need to be in control. It's not that
conceptual thinking is bad, so much as it is irrelevant. It clutters our innate
spaciousness, chopping up our intrinsic awareness into little bits.
All too
often, we simply get in our own way. We ornament our innate awareness with concepts,
and soon these concepts become a confining prison - a prison we forget we ourselves
created. Thinking is a vital skill, intelligence a saving grace. But used without
attention to what the heart or the body or one's larger awareness says about the
truth of a situation, cerebral intelligence becomes unskillful means.
Letting
go of concepts doesn't mean we drop our ability to discern. Far from it! Freed
from the fixation of judgment, we find ourselves keener observers, able to recognise
the more nuanced aspects of reality and to respond to circumstances in a more
flexible way. Discernment doesn't require us to solidify our experience by holding
onto concepts about something. We can let go of concepts and take in our experience
in a direct, fresh way: the blue vase on the windowsill, the squish of rain-soaked
leaves underfoot, the cap left off the toothpaste (again - and here a concept
interjects itself).
Relinquishing judgment also doesn't mean we passively
accept everything that comes our way. We can still hate the experience of the
capless and crusty toothpaste tube created by our thoughtless partner. We can
be fully aware of our aversion, and consciously decide how we are going to respond
to the situation, rather than automatically reacting to it. Cultivating awareness
doesn't mean we turn into a bowl of mush. It does mean we have more tools at our
disposal. We are fine-tuning our perceptions, a process which can be painful,
but which over the course of time results in a more accurate experience of reality.
In the state of choiceless awareness that is mindfulness, we find the ability
to just let things be, regardless of our like or dislike of the situation. This
discovery can be remarkably liberating. Over time, it opens us up to a larger
sense of trust. We are cultivating the ability to see through all the busy clutter
of our lives to the core: to the bottom-line truth that our essential nature is
awareness, pure and simple, and that this pure and simple awareness has its own
healing energy, its own path and power.
Here's another popular misconception:
that mindfulness practice means detaching from one's feelings. Again, this is
far from the truth. If anything, we find ourselves feeling more intensely, once
we've scraped away the overlay of neurotic angst that formerly filtered our experiences.
Feelings most definitely arise within a state of mindfulness, as strong and clear
as ever. And they pass away, just as they always have. The goal here is not detachment,
but a full and free experiencing of whatever arises in the moment, unobstructed
by conceptual judgment. So often we hold ourselves back from our own experience,
subtly freezing it into constructs and thoughts. This pulling back from the flow
of life is itself the essence of suffering.
In my own life, it's an ongoing
process - I sometimes want to say "struggle" - to apply this knowledge
to my everyday experience. Although I'm privileged to witness the transformative
power of awareness first-hand as a psychotherapist, this doesn't mean I always
apply it gracefully to myself. But I do have the conviction, based on personal
experience, that the practices of mindfulness and compassion have an enormous
power to relieve suffering and generate healing.
Much of this I learned the
hard way. My husband and I awoke on a rainy March morning in 1993 to find our
15-month-old son dead in his crib, victim of an illness that should not have been
fatal, but was. The shock, the horror, the enormous guilt that I immediately locked
away because it was too much to bear - it was all too much to bear. The event
shattered my defenses utterly. That night, I laid down in a haze of grief and
exhaustion and sensed a very fine pain at the core of my heart, like a straw had
been inserted in a subtle channel deep inside. Heartbreak, it seems, is a literal
experience.
I had to get through the days and weeks and months that followed;
I had to somehow survive. Killing myself to escape the pain was not an option,
though I certainly entertained the notion. But we had a four-year-old daughter
to take care of, and I had an intuition that physical death would not resolve
the situation; that I would wake up on the other side and find my disembodied
grief a hundred times worse. I had to take care of myself in a way that I'd never
done before. I had to be present for my own experience and somehow contain it
without trying to control it, because my control mechanisms had been blown to
bits.
I dragged a cushion into Nick's room, and sat there every day with my
grief, anger, and pain. Whenever I felt the waves coming up inside, I'd sit and
be with my feelings with a ferocious intensity. Somehow the awareness took off
some of the pressure. It let the waves flow in their own rhythm, battering the
shore, then receding for a few hours. I learned that if I could just be present
for whatever emotions arose, if I could just embrace them as fully and completely
as possible, the storm would pass more easily.
I began to practice tonglen,
the Tibetan meditation on 'sending and receiving,' in which you imagine yourself
taking in the suffering of others with every inhalation, and with every exhalation
send them all your happiness, all your joy, all your strength. This worked like
nothing else did to ease my own suffering. In some mysterious alchemical fashion,
the pain in my heart melted when I connected with the pain of others. I didn't
stop to think why this might be so, or how it worked. I simply sat and took in
more, grateful for even a few breaths of relief.
Grief took away my life energy
in the way that serious illness does. Those first few months, I'd wake in the
morning to find my body lying peacefully in bed -- then remember what had happened,
and feel the physical weight of irreversible loss descend upon me like a ton of
bricks. In the middle of the tempest, though, I found a sort of peace. Seated
in the eye of the hurricane, emotional currents swirling all around, I experienced
a steady sense of grounded presence that alone helped me bear the grief. It became
clear that this awareness was not going to run away, though I at times might choose
to. It was always present, spacious and accommodating, despite the awful turbulence
of my emotions. It was as if uniting with the seed impetus of those emotions allowed
them to unfold as they would, unencumbered by the added pain of resistance. It
was an awareness that was larger than thought, larger than emotion, an awareness
that preceded and contained both of these.
MINDFULNESS: THE PRACTICE OF AWARENESS
Staying with our own experience as it unfolds moment to moment can be the hardest
thing we'll ever do. Painful feelings are avoided or repressed for good reason:
they hurt. Facing the emotional traumas embedded in the body requires intention
and a great deal of courage -- the kind of courage that doesn't deny the presence
of fear, but rather acknowledges the fear and does it anyway, with consideration
and kindness for one's own pain. Spiritual practice is where the "Big No"
-- our basic rejection of experience -- meets the "Big Yes" -- our compassionate
awareness.
It can take only a few weeks of self-investigation to reveal the
suffering that arises when we freeze and contract around our own pain - a reaction
which creates a whole new layer of suffering on top of the original pain. One
could say it's the essence of neurosis, the places where we block ourselves from
letting in life.
Presence-centered psychotherapy works with these frozen feelings,
thawing them into fluidity through the patient heat of our attention. So often
we run away from our own experience. We avoid being present because we are so
unhappy. Yet we only make ourselves unhappier through clinging to stories and
concepts that further alienate us from what is going on in the moment. The key,
the turn-around moment, is in just giving our own experience the space to exist:
in paying attention to it and actually experiencing it rather than compressing
or contracting or running away, rather than attacking or rejecting or judging
it, rather than drugging ourselves numb against it or exaggerating our reaction
into hysteria. Each of us has a virtuoso repertoire of negative responses to undesirable
experiences. And life provides us with endless opportunities to realise that ultimately,
none of them work.
Our fear, our disbelief, says, "What's the point?"
It believes that paying attention to painful things only leads to more pain. Obsessing
or fixating on painful matters certainly does creates more pain -- but open awareness
is a different matter entirely. It's the difference between being squeezed in
a closed fist and resting lightly on an open palm. Held in the open palm of awareness,
painful experience has a chance to decompress and expand, to gentle itself into
its own true nature. So much of the pain we experience is in the contraction,
rather than the original wound.
The key, again, is asking the simple question:
"What's going on right now? What am I experiencing in this moment?"
Turning inside, we check out our experience at the inner level of felt bodily
sensation, not the cerebral level of what the head says, yammering away. To be
mindful is to be fully present in the moment, relinquishing the urge to control
our experience. Just being aware, just noticing: the ache in my right shoulder,
the breath going in, the hiss of a car moving down the rain-slicked street, a
catch in my throat, a flutter of fear, a tightening in the lower back. Underlying
this never-ending process, we subtly notice that which notices. Just noticing,
just being aware.
The essence of this process is direct experience: noting
what arises, and staying with it as it unfolds. Slowly we discover that it's our
resistance to our own experience that makes certain situations so painful, more
than the experience itself. Even overwhelming emotions like grief can expand and
blossom in the moment-by-moment attention to what is happening, and the commitment
to stay with the experience for just one more breath. We learn to open to the
actual quality of the feeling, the pure painfulness of the pain, rather than trying
to control it or reject it. And it is in this precise attention to detail, this
exquisitely scrupulous awareness of exactly what is happening, that the knot unties
in space. We learn to ride the waves of emotion, to move with them rather than
struggle against them. Emotions are inevitable; they exist to the point of enlightenment
and no doubt beyond. Spiritual practice in the Dzogchen tradition does not involve
suppressing our emotions or overcoming them, but simply allowing them to flow
freely through us, without grasping. The same applies to psychological health.
When we practice mindfulness, we are cultivating a deliberate vulnerability. As
Ron Kurtz, the founder of Hakomi, succinctly sums up: "Mindfulness is undefended
consciousness." It is an exquisitely poignant process of dismantling our
armor, our expectations, our efforts to control; a bittersweet unfolding of the
pleasure and pain inherent in every moment. And this fuels the therapeutic process
with some very high-octane energy. When we open up to our own inner process, we
open the gates of self-exploration and new discovery.
Psychologist Eugene Gendlin
has found that the single determining factor in a therapy's effectiveness is how
well a client is able to stay with his or her own experience. The type of therapy
practiced, the duration of the work, even the particular therapist, did not matter
nearly as much as this basic ability to simply experience what one is experiencing.
And this ability, Gendlin notes, is seldom taught in therapy (though he developed
his Focusing technique around this very point). It seems that the client walks
in the door either with it or without it, and flails away valiantly regardless.
By bringing aspects of mindfulness meditation into the therapeutic process, we
tap into the potential to go beyond superficial cognitive-behavioral solutions
to the deepest roots of body, mind, and psyche.
APPLIED COMPASSION
Chogyam
Trungpa Rinpoche uses the term "fundamental sanity" to describe the
solid and clear ground of our basic nature, our birthright as human beings. Dharma
practice is meant to bring us back to this place of our original essence. It seems
to me that we Westerners have developed a particularly imaginative repertoire
of ways to cut ourselves off from this basic state. Apart from our superb collection
of distractions, we can choose from addictions, denial, busyness, workaholism,
rationalisation . . . the list of accredited, socially approved ways to flee our
ourselves goes on and on.
One pattern I see quite often is how we give absolute
credence to the ghost in the machine, the neurotic soundtrack that accompanies
our lives, unleashing its negative commentary as our life unfolds. This superficial
narrative cuts us off from our own complexity and depth. We believe the voices
in our head as they unreel in a devastating commentary on our own self: "You're
too this, too that. Too shy. Too fat. Too needy. Too ugly. Too stupid. You never
do that. Screwed up again, didn't you? Who do you think you are? Why bother, it's
always going to be like this." And on and on, endlessly.
It's difficult
to argue with these voices, because they are primed for debate. Apply the clarity
of aware emptiness to this scenario, however, and gradually it starts to dissolve.
Embrace it with compassion for the suffering involved, and it melts like the Wicked
Witch. Rejection can't hold a candle to compassion.
Awareness or mindfulness
on its own, however clear it may be, is not enough to support deep change. Love,
in the sense of basic warmth and compassion towards ourselves and our own experience,
is also necessary. These twin qualities, self-awareness and basic kindness, are
inseparable. In the Tibetan tradition they are called wisdom and compassion, or
"warmth and wakefulness," as Trungpa Rinpoche phrased it. Compassion
is said to be an intrinsic quality of the nature of mind, radiating automatically
and effortlessly from the empty, aware essence that is our basic nature.
Compassion plays a major role in psychotherapy as well, though it isn't a subject
taught in schools or discussed in seminars. Emotional healing requires a warm,
receptive, attentive listener; someone who is willing to take in our own experience
and feel it fully. The power of this "suffering with" - the root origin
of the word "com-passion" -- cannot be overestimated. It extends far
beyond the unburdening we experience when we talk about our problems with a sympathetic
friend. That kind of conversation often concludes with a bit of well-meaning advice
or an attempt to cheer us up. That is different than exploring our difficulties
in the presence of another who is open, relaxed, and aware; someone who is willing
to completely be with us without having to change our situation in any way. In
some mysterious way, being fully seen and understood by another, even if that
understanding is entirely wordless, can support us in understanding ourselves.
It's as if awareness is contagious. By being fully present for our difficult feelings,
yet not needing to manipulate reality in any way, the other models self-compassion.
This unconditional loving presence provides the context for deep emotional healing.
It is profound, fundamental, open-handed love, with no expectations and no judgment.
Compassion provides non-egocentric nourishment. It's the kind of unconditional
positive regard we all need as children, yet we don't always get. However late
it comes, it is always a most welcome experience. It creates the space in which
we can unfold ourselves and grow.
Loving kindness applied to ourselves helps
us fully experience our own feelings, however negative or difficult they might
be. Breathing in, we embrace our pain with compassion. Breathing out, we stay
with our present experience as it unfolds in the moment. It's that simple. Over
time, this process of compassionate attention heals our restless need to struggle
with reality, to strive for something better or different or more. Eventually,
it heals our separation from our own selves. To be able to stay with our own experience
and allow it to be just as it is - this is the practice of awareness and compassion
combined. Presence-centered psychotherapy uses these as tools for awakening and
deepening. Through cultivating awareness, we create a container for our experience.
Through cultivating compassion, we open this vessel to the world.
Awareness
and compassion are thus two key elements of spiritually oriented psychotherapy
- skillful means for the heart and soul. Unlike so many external goals we strive
for, they are intrinsic to our nature. Unlike so many pop psych fads, they are
grounded in millennia of actual practice. They manifest as regularly, as inevitably,
and as naturally as the breath itself.
Presence-centered psychotherapy blends
the wisdom of meditation and psychology. Psychotherapy uses the presence and awareness
of the other - the therapist - to hone self-awareness. In meditation practice,
we refine the application of awareness on our own. Quietly seated by ourselves,
we become aware of the faintest aspect of the breath, the subtlest movement of
the mind. Therapy happens once or twice a week: the rest of the time, you might
reflect on the hour and muse a bit, letting the resulting awareness percolate
through your system. Meditation can happen any time, any place, but again, the
process of letting the resulting awareness filter through the body/mind is as
important as the practice itself. The precise methodologies differ, but the goal
is the same: to immerse ourselves fully in the flow of life by embracing our awareness
of our own experience.
*********************
The
Need and Significance of Modern Science,
January 2000
One thing I would like to make clear is that Ven Amchok Rinpoche,
the Director of Library of Tibetan Works & Archives (LTWA) has come here and
his purpose of visit is connected with a project about which I have been thinking
for many years. It has been my wish that the learned scholars of the three "Central
Seats" as well as the monks who are intelligent in study take keen interest
in the various disciplines of modern science such as psychology, physics and astronomy.
I have felt the need and importance of entering into discussion with those specialized
in various fields of modern science, which shares close affinity with Buddhist
philosophy and tenets. Then by working out a proper syllabus and a convenient
time-table one can conduct classes or workshops to impart education in science.
I have previously expressed my wish that the LTWA shoulder the responsibility
in taking the initiatives. Today Rinpoche has purposely come all the way and has
also circulated a written information. I consider this a matter of great significance.
Today, science means a most valid method of discovering truth; and this is what
science does. Generally speaking, a genuine scientist always does his or her research
objectively, free from any pre-conceived and biased notions or ideas. The field
of their research, if compared with the wide scopes of Buddhist philosophy, has
never been a vast one. Primarily, their field of interest has always been the
external material world and not the inner cognitive mind.
The scientists categorize
themselves into two groups, the "conservative" and "liberal."
The conservative scientists mainly deal with things relating to mind and its psychic
force. While material things constitute the main sphere of study for the liberal
scientists. I think the main reason of this classification is because of the multiplicity
and disparity of concepts and thoughts that comes up in the study of mind; and
the difficulties faced in validating and measuring these conceptions ad infinitum.
The well-founded disciplines of modern science are the fields that are directly
related to us (Buddhists). Generally speaking, even religions including Christianity
which are widely practiced in the West, are labeled as mere "dogmas"
by the modern scientists. Science on the other hand is recognized as a field of
study that deals with the observed facts and the relationship amongst those facts.
Indeed science has enormously influenced the life of people in this world through
its study of chemical process, biological aspects and so forth. For example, when
we become seriously ill, we go to hospitals, which we associate with "outsider's
art of healing" to seek medical treatment. The hospital, through its modern
techniques and appliances, makes correct diagnosis and proper medication possible.
The methods of diagnosing diseases and prescribing medicines are based on experiences
of a physician, and are not mere rituals based on teachings such as the Medicinal
Tantra preached by Buddha Bhaishajya. Although it is undeniably true that there
have been cases of wrong diagnosis and medications. Also there are medicines and
curative measures that relieve our pain and provide solace for a while, but turns
detrimental in the long run. However the greatness of medical sciences is widely
appreciated and has so far been successful in preventing and treating the deadliest
of diseases that inflicts the life of all living beings. It is also sad that many
living beings despite the progress in medical science succumb to illness and diseases.
Modern
appliances and devices such as radio and audio-recorder, which we use in our daily
life, are the products of ceaseless effort and experimentation of science and
technology, rather than mystical clairvoyance or miracle powers. As a matter of
fact, in this world, modern science is viewed as a field of study that searches
for observed facts based on experimentation. Developments in the field of science
and technology have had positive impact on the life of people living in this world.
It has directly benefited the people by helping them live a better and more comfortable
life.
As I have mentioned earlier, religions in general are viewed as ideologies
based on belief in god as the almighty creator. From Buddhist perspective, these
are considered as religion based on false reification. In terms of false belief,
Buddhist teachings classify them into two-fold: false belief springing from reification,
exaggeration of factual truth; and false belief stemming from repudiation, denial
or under-estimation of truth. Of these, most of the religions are based on reified
truths. By these words, I intend to relate that what exist in reality should be
known, and what is known should be validated and well substantiated. Scientist
took religion as ideologies that were unfounded and baseless, and hence do not
see their teachings as complying to the true nature of phenomena's existence.
Therefore, in the western countries, religion and science are viewed as completely
paradoxical and antithetical with no common factors to share.
Since fifteen
to twenty years back, out of fondness and interest for modern science, I have
tried to make contacts with scientists. I have cherished this idea of learning
the varied field of science even from my childhood days. Thereafter, I have tried
to make contacts with those specialized in the field of science and technology.
Some of my western friends aware of my interest have told me that science is an
enemy of religion. I was also cautioned over my interest in science by explaining
how it has been a cause to the ruin and destruction of many religions and faiths
in the West. However, I was least affected by these warnings as I am confident
over the fact that the teachings of Buddha, unlike others, are based on truth
and reality.
In Buddhist teachings, when refuting opinions of the lesser schools
in the process of establishing truth from facts and reality, the higher schools
formulate their views based on logical reasoning and critical analysis, rather
than citing words of the Buddha. In the process of reasoning and analysis, it
forewarns the arisal of fallacies and consequences on clinging to the lesser views
and ideologies. For example, when learning and teaching Tantra, we begin with
the basis of phenomena's existence, the means of transcending the paths by relying
on the basis, and finally the mode of actualizing the results through dependence
on the paths. Also in the general teachings of the Mahayana vehicle, the basis-
two truths, the paths- method and wisdom, and the results- the two bodies of Buddha
are explained. It also teaches how cultivation of spiritual paths and accomplishment
of goals are attained by dependence upon the basis.
On that which is void
of basis, no paths can be cultivated, no goals attained. Therefore, we should
look for truth wherever it is prevalent. And truth found through this approach
can definitely help develop our inner mind. It will eventually help us realize
the fundamental nature of how all sentient beings want happiness and do not want
suffering.
Confident of this fact, I got in touch with scientists, through
which I became acquainted with many of them. In their treatment of material world,
evolution of universe, and nature of chemical substances, I feel they are very
precise and accurate in their analysis. For example, our [Buddhist] view extensively
explaining subtle phenomena and time, especially the time division of snapping
of a finger by a healthy person into 365 flickering instances, is extremely gross
compared to that explained by the modern physicists. The treatment of time and
energy by modern scientists are at a subtlest level possible. We also speak of
atoms of different types and forms namely lcags-rdul (iron-particle), chu-rdul
(water-particle), ri-bong-gi-rdul (rabbit-particle), lug-rdul (sheep-particle),
and glang-rdul (ox-particle). These varying ranges of subtle particles are classified
from gross to subtle- firstly rdul-phra-rab (atomic particle), then rdul-phran
(Sub-atomic particles), followed by iron-particle, water-particle, sun-rays particle,
hare-particle, and so forth. However, compared to the explanations of modern scientists,
we realize these as being at a very gross level. Therefore, I feel the discoveries
and revelations made by the scientists can certainly help us develop a better
understanding.
Similarly, modern scientists can also benefit greatly from
the teachings of the Buddha. Presently, the radical materialists in their investigation
and experiment over subtle objects found out that nothing truly and ultimately
exists. As they are unable to posit any truly existing object, they feel that
true existence perhaps never exists. However, Buddha-dharma, since thousands of
years before, through proper analysis and investigation, have proven the fact
that when searched for, no single object of observation truly and inherently exist.
It is recently that scientists have realized things lack of true existence, as
it is unfindable when closely examined and searched. When they do not find it,
they feel that everything existed as mere projection of our mind, hence drawing
themselves close to the views of the Cittamatrina (Mind-only) school of Buddhism.
At this juncture, they are in pure philosophy and not in the discipline of modern
science.
These days, scientists, especially those who have reached a respectably
high level of proficiency are turning towards philosophy. In the past, philosophy
refers to a discipline wholly dealing with mind and conceptions. And science is
recognized as a practical field of study that involves experimenting substantially
existent material objects. However, these days their distances have become less.
When the object of experiment or observation is beyond the reach of one's ability
and perception and when even the inductive methods fail, scientists are left with
no other options, but to take up philosophical approach based on study of logic
and metaphysis. There are certain points where study and experiment fail and scientists
are left with no clues to a problem and its cause.
From this point of view,
the Buddhist principle of dependent-origination is worthy of our admiration as
it explains phenomena's nominal or relative existence. Scientists' approach towards
looking for the nature of phenomena had brought them to such a high level of understanding.
Although these have been already explained by the Buddha and Nagarjuna, the scientists
still deserve praise as they have discovered it through their own empirical reasoning
and practical experiments over how things lack of true existence.
Scientists
are especially taking interest in Buddhist philosophy and tenets, excluding the
doctrinal teachings such as impermanence and liberation. For example, once I attended
a seminar with many highly proficient and recognized scientists. In the first
session, I saw some of them air their sense of discontentment and sarcastically
asked what the religious practitioners have to discuss with the scientists. However,
when I explained to them how Buddhism does not believe in the concept of a creator
god, its negation of permanent, single and independent self; its negation of a
self other than the aggregates; non-existence of true self; and how changes are
brought about by their respective external and internal causes and conditions,
only then did they start to see its significance. During the second session, with
their increased interest in Buddhism, they expressed how its approach is totally
different from other religions. In the third session and thereafter, they raised
certain topics of interest and asked how it was viewed from Buddhist perspective.
Out of sheer curiosity and amazement, they budged in between sessions and during
tea-breaks, to discuss things of importance.
The highly intellectual scientists
and deep thinkers are beginning to take interest in the eastern philosophy. Of
these, some are exceptionally keen on studying Buddhism. By this, I do not mean
all scientists have accepted us. Of the many, those who are aware of this fact
and those unbiased indeed are taking interest in Buddhism. The conclusion they
draw on Buddhism is that: "taking the matter of fact that science will develop
greatly as it ushers into the 21st century, and if there is a religion that can
develop with science, it could be none other than Buddhism." This is one
thing.
As I have explained before, in many religion faith and wisdom are seen
as completely disparate. According to these, faith is viewed as single-pointed
devotion and are not conjoined or associated with wisdom. However, the teachings
of Buddha, to everyone's amazement, explain the possibilities and advantages of
generating faith conjoined with wisdom. Owing to these and many other qualities,
people are embracing Buddhism.
Last year, I attended a seminar with some scientists
in Dharamsala. There was one or two Chinese and Japanese. A middle-aged Japanese
woman also attended the seminar then, not as a speaker but merely as an ardent
observer. On the third day, following the first two days of discussions and deliberations,
the woman expressed her desire to speak with me. She said, "I am a Japanese
from the East. To this day, I have thought that religion and philosophy of the
East are merely faith-oriented ideology and that which exist only for prayer's
sake. I have never known it to be so profound and have never realized its power
in observing phenomena's mode of existence." She also said, "I deeply
regard western science as a discipline that highly values and establishes factual
realities and which have the potential to practically benefit humankind. Taking
into account my notion of considering eastern religion and philosophy as mere
objects of our faith and prayer, I have felt that it served as an object of study
for western science and philosophy and not vice-versa. Attending this seminar
for two days, I was deeply moved to discover how eastern philosophy searches and
establishes truth through rational analysis, similar to that of western scientists."
Considering this, I feel amazed by the ontological explanation given in the
teachings on Middle Way philosophy and Valid Cognition by Acharya Diganaga and
Dharmakirti especially sel-'jug, the eliminative perception and sgrub-'jug, affirming
perception as elucidated in the Commentary on [the Compendium of] Valid Cognition
(Pramanavartika; tshad-ma rnam-'grel) when teaching valid reasoning establishing
the nature of phenomena. The Tirthika's concept of sPyi (generality), though refuted
by Buddhists, is a result of their deep thinking and hence should not be taken
lightly. Buddhist teachings explain sound and conceptuality as object of eliminative
perception and not as affirming perception. These are not vague ideas as they
are based on valid reasoning and infallible perception of a valid-cognizer.
The
import of Middle Way philosophy and the teachings on Valid Cognition are of utmost
importance and are significantly essential for pragmatic experimentation. The
teachings of Buddhism in general and that of Mahayana in particular are laden
with innate potential and significance. However, until today we have been unable
to demonstrate its unique qualities and power to the world. When the potentiality
and utility of Buddhism gradually manifest and come to light, I am certain that
Buddhist scholars, who have mastered the Middle-Way philosophy, the teachings
of valid cognition and other Buddhist literature for many years can play a major
role in the explaining the Buddhist perspective as they possess the required knowledge
and the requisite factors.
Western scholars are very particular in their research
especially in many fields of studies including history. They are very precise
and accurate in locating places and identifying dates in their research works.
However, they are of no match to the dialecticians and logicians who contemplates
and meditates on the profound teachings. Here, I do not intend to undermine the
western scholars. On philosophical ground, I feel Buddhist masters are exceptionally
great and their understanding immeasurably profound. Mastery over Tibetan language
is an additional advantage as Tibetan language, with standardized terms and meanings
is the richest existing language that can fully expound and interpret the teachings
of Buddha. In spiritual and religious discipline, I feel Tibetan scholars are
very good.
If asked what are the main detrimental factors that cause us to
lag behind? I feel it is due to our lack of understanding in modern science, for
which I feel the need of studying science extremely important. The aim of studying
science is not to facilitate us with an opponent or an opposing view, but rather
for finding truth. If there are any contradictory views in science, they can be
taken as hypothesis for further study and analysis. For example, from the biography
of great master Dharmakirti, we learn how he became a disciple and served a heretic
master only to study their views and ideologies. We should also follow this uncommon
method when studying modern science.
Although the ancient philosophies are
valuable, some of these have disappeared and the remainings are irrelevant and
impractical. Instead of studying old philosophies void of any relevance it would
be wiser to study existing religion such as Christianity. The purpose of the study
should not be to criticize or find faults in other religions, but to understand
their differences. Understanding their differences strengthens and secures one's
faith and dewsvotion toward Buddha-dharma.
As mentioned earlier, if one could
study modern science, which in its search for truth, have certain affinities with
Buddhist philosophy and tenets, I feel they would start to generate a steadfast
and deep-rooted faith in the teachings of the Buddha. This would further contribute
in the preservation and dissemination of Buddha-dharma. Moreover, when introducing
Buddhist teaching to the new generation of Tibetans, if we are able to present
the views of both Buddhism and modern science by drawing their comparisons, I
am sure the teachings would be more valid, practically scientific, and easily
comprehensible. This is the best method of teachings that can generate belief
and conviction in the mind of people.
Our community shall not remain as it
is. There will be changes. Not only in the exiled community, but in future, when
the Tibetans in and outside Tibet gather, then also there will be changes. The
knowledge of science will be instrumental in the preservation, promotion and introduction
of Buddhism to the new generation of Tibetans. Hence, it is very necessary to
begin the study of science.
I feel it more proper if the initiatives are taken
by the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, Dharamsala, considering its relevance
and relatedness with the objectives of the institute. Rinpoche will inform you
of this in detail and you may indulge in discussions later. I have just mentioned
the general key points that are in my mind.
During the times when battles
were fought with the Chinese and the British in the Water-Bird and the Wooden-Dragon
year, we considered "the yellow-haired westerners" the enemy of Buddhism,
and had a very disgusting opinion of them. On the other hand, the Chinese emperors
were held in great veneration by praising them as "the divine emanation of
Lord Manjushri." Ultimately we are in the loss, having clung to this faulty
opinion for a long time. Now the time has come for us to place our hope to the
one whom we once referred to as "the enemy of Buddhism." No matter how
lowly "the enemy of the Dharma" be, they respect freedom and democracy.
They live in a state where the rule of law is supreme prevails. Contrary to this,
the land of "the divine emanation of Manjushri" no longer experience
freedom and democracy, nor the rule of law.
The modern science of today is
a universal science, rather than that of the West as it once used to be. If those
who have studied the Middle Way philosophy and teachings of Valid Cognition take
up modern science, with the unending positive doubts and constructive curiosities,
I am sure they can easily and swiftly gain a deeper understanding of the subject.
Conversely, if the class comprise of students who have studied the Middle Way
philosophy and teachings of Valid Cognition, I am certain that the teachers can
develop a deeper understanding of the subject he or she has specialized.
His
Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama
*********************
The
Monk That Went Forth
An interview
with Bhante Yatirawana Wimala
by Adam Rostoker
Twenty five hundred
years later, it is still traditional for monks to wander and teach but there is
probably no other monk who has wandered as far as Bhante Yatirawana Wimala, one
of the most unusual Theravadha monks. Bhante Wimala has been traveling full time
for twelve years covering more than 100,000 miles by air and over 15,000 miles
by car in the last year alone. He teaches, lectures and organizes peace and healing
programs in many nations and on nearly every continent. In addition to his travel
and teaching schedule, he publishes a quarterly newsletter, writes poetry and
philosophical articles, distributes a series of meditation cassettes, manages
international pilgrimages to sacred Buddhist sites and somehow finds time to visit
hospitals, help friends with their lives and keep on with his religious and scholastic
studies. And, instead of being exhausted by the pace of his life, Bhante Wimala
is known for his quick smile and easy going manner. He never seems to be hurried,
angry or depressed. In fact, his close students say he is one of the most peaceful
people they have met and that somehow just meeting Bhante Wimala is such a peaceful
experience that they recall it to restore their own inner peace at difficult moments
of their lives.
I first met Bhante Wimala five years ago when we shared a
large house in Boston with nearly a dozen other people. This was a cooperative
community of mostly computer professionals and Phd students of MIT. Bhante Wimala
had been a long term guest of the house for some time. Despite the enormous cultural
differences between a Sri Lankan monk and these assorted American technophiles,
Bhante Wimala made us feel relaxed and peaceful for his presence. His advice was
usually helpful regardless of the situation, and he pitched in on the household
chores better than some of the people who weren't guests. Most of us knew little
about Buddhism before we met Bhante Wimala, but we spent many nights talking about
religion and philosophy over cups of steaming tea, At least two of us are currently
practicing Buddhism today, and I personally learned much about meditation from
this charming philosopher.
Despite his many travels, sometimes for months at
a time, he was much a part of out household as any of us. Eventually, I moved
out of the house to begin my own full-time travels but Bhante Wimala still seems
a part of me. We somehow manage to meet each other in various places across North
America several times a year to work together on writing projects or to catch
up on our friendship. Last summer we met in the Colorado Rockies, the spring before
we met in Washington, DC. This time, we met in San Francisco to speak about the
strange and wandering life of this unusual monk.
AR: Tell me about your travels
and what you hope to accomplish with your wanderings.
BW: Unlike most monks
who wander in their homelands or live ascetically in monasteries, I spend my life
traveling over the world to teach and to heal and to bring peace to the people
of our planet. I have been traveling now for twelve years and have forged friendships
across the globe. I like to think that there is a friend of mine who is just waking
from a good sleep at every hour of my day.
Many monks, who mostly limit themselves
to their local Buddhist temples and congregations, consider my international work
in the thoroughfares and living rooms of non-Buddhist lands to be untraditional
at best, and even extravagant or heretical. still, the combined merits of exposing
people to new and helpful ideas while learning their traditions and beliefs has
provided an enormous benefit to everyone involved. My travels are spiritual as
well as physical and from the years and miles, I have seen the world inside me
and the world outside me grow more peaceful and whole.
It is a peculiar life
I have chose, by the judgment of my Buddhist brothers and the judgment of the
non-Buddhists I have come to know. I am always a stranger in a strange land, even
when I visit my most trusted friends or return to my homeland. Yet, for all the
discomforts and unfamiliarities, this is a life I deem necessary: for each time
I cross a nation's borders to share my thoughts with another group of strangers
or to work on a project to help those who unnecessarily suffer, I forge a trail
of peace and understanding and leave a path of open minds and tolerance behind
me for others to follow. It is said that we live in and impossible world and so
I have chosen to do the impossible to live in it.
As I think about this life
that I live, and the string of circumstances that have led me to travel the world
as a holy man among secularists, I can't help but smile when I remember that the
name for my homeland , Sri Lanka, means serendipity. Perhaps it all makes sense
when you think of serendipity as your starting point.
AR: Tell me about some
of this serendipity. Are their any stories that illustrate the magic of a world
traveling monk?
BW: There are many stories. I recently returned from leading
a meditation retreat for the staff at the Findhorn spiritual community in Scotland.
The night after the retreat I felt energized and full, but also eager to be alone.
Findhorn is a lovely place with beautiful, well-tended gardens but I wanted to
walk to the ocean, to experience freer side of Nature. But the beach was further
than I thought and it soon grew dark. I was half way to the beach and had started
to turn back when I met a young person who offered to walk with me to the beach.
Of course, we started to talk and soon I heard about the painful friction present
within the family. As we spoke our hearts, tears spilled out over the feeling
of lost familiar love. We had a truly intense exchange of thoughts and feelings
by the crashing sea, much was shared and we walked home in high spirits carrying
new hope.
It is an interesting thing that during our time together, my heart
was so clear, healing and soothing, offering comfort. Only afterwards did I realize
what an amazing story we were. Two strangers, born on opposite sides of a planet,
as different as two people can be, meet on a walk to the beach and wind up speaking
their most profound thoughts to each other in a healing, caring, very intense
conversation. Then, like a thunderstorm, the moment is over, and the two strangers
part again, perhaps forever, having been dynamically changed by the interaction.
There
is a special poetry to life that comes from allowing one's self to participate
completely in whatever adventure comes down the road. And I wonder how often brilliant
magic moments are lost to fear or ignorance. I hope that I always have the wisdom
to let my fear go and complete my walks in the dark to beaches unknown looking
for the good friend I haven't met.
AR: Are all of your interactions so positive?
BW:
Well, not every story is so splendid, but they are mostly positive. Recently while
waiting for a flight in Texas, I noticed an older man staring at me through squinted
eyes. With my dark skin, shaved head and orange robes, I must have seemed a bit
conspicuous in an airport filled with business suits. I smiled and nodded at him
and, after a few minutes he came over to me and said in a very loud voice, "You
look really strange." I smiled at him again, not quite knowing what to say,
Finally, I said, "Yes, I know" - "Well, " he snorted, somehow
satisfied with himself, "Why don't you change?"
I smiled yet again
and told him that I look like I do because I am a Buddhist monk, a representative
of one of the world's major religious, and that many people accept my appearance
as that of a clergyman. He seemed pleased with this explanation and we spoke for
a few minutes, shook hands and parted. It didn't occur to me for some time afterwards
that I never asked him why he wore such a big cowboy hat indoors or why he had
such a funny little string tie or why he needed to wear steel-toed boots made
from the skin of rattlesnakes or why he spoke so loud through a mouthful of tobacco.
I don't know that he would have given me as adequate and explanation for his appearance
as I did for mine, But I smile yet again and accept him.
I have noticed similar
feelings when I speak at elementary schools. The children are at first frightened
of my unfamiliar appearance. I can sense their nervousness as the teacher turns
the classroom over to me. I can feel their small fears as they first hear my accent.
But always it is the same-after half an hour the children are lined up to talk
with me and touch me. They want to be friends.
Very often the teachers ask
me before the class what it is I want to teach. And always I tell them that I
want children to know that there are people like me- many people-who have different
color hair, different color skin, different clothing, different beliefs, and a
different religious philosophy. I want them to see beyond my outward appearance
and to see the teacher and the friend I want to be for them.
As I travel around
the worlds teaching and counseling, it rarely occurs to me that one of my greatest
services to the planet and the people I meet is not only in my words but in the
fact that I am there to say them. By simply traveling I am helping people to become
less attached to appearance and more aware of their own prejudices. I also understand
more how important it is that we smile at one another.
AR: These interactions
sound so magical, but I imagine that constantly breaching cultural prejudice might
become tiresome after a while.
BW: It 's true that there is a lot of cultural
prejudice in the world, but overcoming these prejudices is a very satisfying process
for me. Throughout history, there have been rare individuals who have managed
to reach very strong and heartfelt cultural barriers through their clarity of
vision and the sincerity of their hearts. These rare, enlightened people are my
inspiration as I travel. I always imagine that through their placid wisdom, they
could see beyond cultural boundaries, above the ignorance and fear that create
dogmas of aggression and isolation, and focus on the core issues of any situation,
with careful words, a gentle smile and a heartfelt gesture, such persons are above
judgment, beyond language, and perpetually welcome. When such a person makes the
kind of cultural error that would be unforgivable for natives or other visitors-as
I sometimes do- most people just laugh softly to themselves, blaming the rigidity
of their own expectation, and consider the traveler with even greater warmth.
These are universal people and their home is with everyone.
When I meet people,
I am not meeting their religious, racial or ethnic labels-often I won't even know
what they are or what they mean. Instead, I am meeting a spiritual being with
consciousness, heart, intention, and important information to share concerning
universal concepts of living. When I travel I see no Buddhist, Christians, Jews,
or Jains or spiritualists; no Germans, Saudis, English, Thais or Israelis. I see
no colors, genders or ages. I see eager, caring, conscious people who are both
struggling and playing with the same issues as I am. There can be no place, in
such a world view, for breaches of etiquette or misplaced words. There are only
smiles, nods, questions and laughter.
Of course, it is not without effort
that I continue to travel among so many different people, and not every interaction
is as enlightened as I would hope. In Germany, I met a fine family of Christians
who pitied me since I must be lonely without God because I do not believe in Jesus
Christ. In America, I know people who feel that since I am not married and have
no wife or children I must be devoid of live. I even meet Buddhists who are not
used to such a traveling monk and criticize my ways. These people are sometimes
quite aggressive in the presentation of their views. And although I can occasionally
feel uncomfortable, I am also interested in these views--I am far from having
learned all that other people can teach me. I also return their energy with respectful
attention. I listen to them , ask questions, offer exchange and quietly go about
my own way. It is surprising to me how a second visit to these people often shows
that they remember my respectful attention to them and not strength of their disapproval
of me.
AR: What is the stated goal of your travel? Is it a missionary sort
of work, to create new Buddhists in the world?
BW: Not at all. Most of the
time I travel on invitations. My invitations come from universities, collages,
churches, or from certain individuals either to work on a project to help needy
or to give lectures, presentations or meditation retreats. In fact, I often begin
my presentations by reminding people that we all come from different backgrounds
with many wonderful, varied belief systems. Each of us is equipped with the truths
of our people and the truths of own making. I have only come to share my truths
and learn from others. Now, while it is certain that many of my truths derive
from Buddhism and the Sri Lankan culture, it does not necessarily mean the Sri
Lankan Buddhist culture is the one and only true and right way.
There are many
different paths that have value, truth and beauty. It is my stated goal to share
the values, truth and beauty of my path and learn something of value, truth and
beauty from other peoples. Beyond certain practices, like yoga, meditation and
creative acts, there is little that I can offer in the way of absolute truth.
Eventually we all need to meet on the peak of universal truth where we all will
be in prefect harmony. Until then, I encourage tolerance for all peoples and a
spiritual path that does not concern itself so much with assessing the truth of
other peoples, but one which stresses daily spiritual practice that will lead
one to discover their own best truths which is universal.
AR: This must create
quite a shock in the Western countries whose religious claim that the only truth
comes from one source and that personal investigation beyond this source is a
crime.
BW: there is something to this, some Western are shocked at the possibility
that they can achieve spiritual greatness without death. but then again, a good
half of my lectures in the West are sponsored by the same churches that once executed
people who believed in truths that were different than their holy books. These
same institutions are the people who most often ask me to come and visit. And
I find my work with them to be especially rewarding.
We live in times of great
change. The only thing we can be sure of at this time is that we can't be sure
of anything. This means great danger, as in the threat of terribly destructive
wars and environmentally damaging business practices. but this also means great
opportunities, such as can be found by a traveling holy man. I see that there
is an emerging sense of spiritual desire all over the world. The planet seems
filled with people who are looking at their most basic beliefs through new eyes.
Part of this new spiritual interest is due to the intellectual exchange caused
by travelers like myself, but most of this urgency arises because so much of the
underpinnings for every society have changed quite drastically in the last dozen
decades. Few of the ancient understandings will ever again be seen in the same
perspective and people are desperate to come to higher understandings. Many people
in western nations have turned to, for them, the non-traditional path of Buddhism,
for example, although Buddhism practiced by most of these Westerners would surprise
the average Sri Lankan.
There is something very wholesome about the emergence
of these new spiritual hybrids. so much value comes from the act of searching
for better ways. Didn't Gothama find enlightenment after trying many different
paths? Weren't his first disciples heretics in the eyes of older, more established
traditions? Today I know people who combine elements of ancient European nature
religions along with later American Indian traditions and swirl this together
with quotations from the Tao Te Ching, martial arts exercises and Buddhist chanting.
Perhaps it is more than our privilege to have so many traditions at our disposal,
perhaps it is our responsibility to learn the many possible paths to enlightenment.
Although it could be confusing at time, hopefully, eventually we will free ourselves
from all beliefs and religious concepts and open our hearts to know our own inner
truth. This is a grave difference between Buddhism and Western religions: we are
required to emulate the Gothama's quest for truth and enlightenment, not sit idly
by while others achieve enlightenment for us.
Finally there is no way that
I can create more Buddhists in the world--although I certainly teach Buddhism
and I know many people who have become attracted to Buddhism because of knowing
me. first of all, being a Buddhist is a personal choice for an individual, not
a club one can join by paying the entry fee. Secondly, the Buddhism I know is
a mix of scripture and culture which evolved on a small island near India. How
can someone from Sweden or Russia or Israel learn to be a Singhalese Bhante like
me? This is not an easy task. And the people from other lands who call themselves
Buddhist are very, very different from what my teachers in Sri Lanka might expect.
sometimes this difference is small and may seem amusing to me, but I have been
shocked at times by what some Westerners consider Buddhism to be, Even so, this
must be the way since we are literally a half a world apart. The best we can do
is learn from each other and find beauty and meaning in the harmony of our similarities
and differences.
AR: How is it that you manage to travel full time. I think
you are a mendicant and have no possessions.
BW: Actually, one time I was a
real mendicant. Things has changed a great deal since. Buddhist tradition allows
me a few possessions and teaches that I should accept what comes to me. In my
work, for example, I own some books and I recently was given a computer which
should help me to type stories for the newsletter--a task that burdens others
just now. You see, I too live my life as a hybrid of my times, and I value the
experience of learning new ways. Adam, how many times have you encouraged me to
learn new computer programs telling me "When ever you're in the middle of
a tsunami, it pays to know how to surf."
My travel expenses are paid by
the various institutions and individuals who invite me to come and lead workshops
or meditations or to bless their homes or businesses. Mostly I speak at churches
and for small or large groups of religious adventurers. I also work quite a bit
with small children in schools. I have lectured at universities throughout the
world and often speak at meetings of clergy or business leaders. A fair bit of
time is spent at holistic health centers like Findhorn and the Omega Institute,
where I counsel the staff and lead workshops in meditation and yoga. I usually
stay in the homes of friends when I travel, although I have been made welcome
at various monasteries across the world. Usually my needs are small and I find
very often that my friends derive great pleasure in hosting me and introducing
me to still more friends.
As full as my schedule gets, though, it is always
possible to find the time I need for meditation and reflection, to write, to practice
yoga, to read, to study, and again to meditate. I plan carefully to avoid the
stresses that hurt other travelers because I know that my greatest value to my
friends and students lies in my own peace, health and soundness of mind.
AR:
How often do you get a chance to return to Sri Lanka and what do you find when
you go there?
BW: Actually, I am just returning to Sri Lanka next month to
remember my father on the anniversary of his death and to lead a pilgrimage of
my students from America and Europe to various holy places in Sri Lanka and Thailand,
Later in Thailand I will participate in a leadership conference with more of my
students from Sweden and Russia.
There is always a blend of pleasure and pain
for me when I return to Sri Lanka and Kandy, in particular. There is so much that
is familiar to me--the sights, the smells, the sounds, the faces of my friends
and family, and a way of life that is at once ancient and modern, practical and
spiritual. I am so very lucky to have been born and raised on this island. And
then, there is such pain for me to see the changes that have come over time. I
have lost both my parents in the last few years and my village of Yatirawana continues
to change so quickly. and when I am only beginning to understated the changes
at home, I must again recognize the many changes in me. Sri Lanka and I feel like
fond strangers some times, always searching to understand each other.
Eventually,
I will hear an old chant or catch sight of an old teacher and suddenly, I will
remember why I have come home. I come home to reconnect with the land and the
ideals of my childhood, to renew my respect for tradition, to refound my love
for our life here and to bind myself again to my roots and beginnings. For a man
who is never sure where he will go next, it is so important to understand where
I started from.
Adam Rostoker is a well known writer, musician and lecturer
on issues ranging from computer science and technology to philosophy and economics.
He travels full time in a specially equipped motor home and is involved in the
international peace movement.
* This interview was done in Feb/ 1996
*********************
The
Monk in the Lab
By TENZIN GYATSO
DHARAMSALA, India
These are times when destructive emotions like anger,
fear and hatred are giving rise to devastating problems throughout the world.
While the daily news offers grim reminders of the destructive power of such emotions,
the question we must ask is this: What can we do, person by person, to overcome
them?
Of course such disturbing emotions have always been part of the human
condition. Some - those who tend to believe nothing will "cure" our
impulses to hate or oppress one another - might say that this is simply the price
of being human. But this view can create apathy in the face of destructive emotions,
leading us to conclude that destructiveness is beyond our control.
I believe
that there are practical ways for us as individuals to curb our dangerous impulses
- impulses that collectively can lead to war and mass violence. As evidence I
have not only my spiritual practice and the understanding of human existence based
on Buddhist teachings, but now also the work of scientists.
For
the last 15 years I have engaged in a series of conversations with Western scientists.
We have exchanged views on topics ranging from quantum physics and cosmology to
compassion and destructive emotions. I have found that while scientific findings
offer a deeper understanding of such fields as cosmology, it seems that Buddhist
explanations - particularly in the cognitive, biological and brain sciences -
can sometimes give Western-trained scientists a new way to look at their own fields.
It
may seem odd that a religious leader is so involved with science, but Buddhist
teachings stress the importance of understanding reality, and so we should pay
attention to what scientists have learned about our world through experimentation
and measurement.
Similarly, Buddhists have a 2,500-year history of investigating
the workings of the mind. Over the millenniums, many practitioners have carried
out what we might call "experiments" in how to overcome our tendencies
toward destructive emotions.
I have been encouraging scientists to examine
advanced Tibetan spiritual practitioners, to see what benefits these practices
might have for others, outside the religious context. The goal here is to increase
our understanding of the world of the mind, of consciousness, and of our emotions.
It
is for this reason that I visited the neuroscience laboratory of Dr. Richard Davidson
at the University of Wisconsin. Using imaging devices that show what occurs in
the brain during meditation, Dr. Davidson has been able to study the effects of
Buddhist practices for cultivating compassion, equanimity or mindfulness. For
centuries Buddhists have believed that pursuing such practices seems to make people
calmer, happier and more loving. At the same time they are less and less prone
to destructive emotions.
According to Dr. Davidson, there is now science to
underscore this belief. Dr. Davidson tells me that the emergence of positive emotions
may be due to this: Mindfulness meditation strengthens the neurological circuits
that calm a part of the brain that acts as a trigger for fear and anger. This
raises the possibility that we have a way to create a kind of buffer between the
brain's violent impulses and our actions.
Experiments
have already been carried out that show some practitioners can achieve a state
of inner peace, even when facing extremely disturbing circumstances. Dr. Paul
Ekman of the University of California at San Francisco told me that jarring noises
(one as loud as a gunshot) failed to startle the Buddhist monk he was testing.
Dr. Ekman said he had never seen anyone stay so calm in the presence of such a
disturbance.
Another monk, the abbot of one of our monasteries in India, was
tested by Dr. Davidson using electroencephalographs to measure brain waves. According
to Dr. Davidson, the abbot had the highest amount of activity in the brain centers
associated with positive emotions that had ever been measured by his laboratory.
Of course, the benefits of these practices are not just for monks who spend
months at a time in meditation retreat. Dr. Davidson told me about his research
with people working in highly stressful jobs. These people - non-Buddhists - were
taught mindfulness, a state of alertness in which the mind does not get caught
up in thoughts or sensations, but lets them come and go, much like watching a
river flow by. After eight weeks, Dr. Davidson found that in these people, the
parts of their brains that help to form positive emotions became increasingly
active.
The implications of all this are clear: the world today needs citizens
and leaders who can work toward ensuring stability and engage in dialogue with
the "enemy" - no matter what kind of aggression or assault they may
have endured.
It's worth noting that these methods are not just useful, but
inexpensive. You don't need a drug or an injection. You don't have to become a
Buddhist, or adopt any particular religious faith. Everybody has the potential
to lead a peaceful, meaningful life. We must explore as far as we can how that
can be brought about.
I try to put these methods into effect in my own life.
When I hear bad news, especially the tragic stories I often hear from my fellow
Tibetans, naturally my own response is sadness. However, by placing it in context,
I find I can cope reasonably well. And feelings of helpless anger, which simply
poison the mind and embitter the heart, seldom arise, even following the worst
news.
But reflection shows that in our lives much of our suffering is caused
not by external causes but by such internal events as the arising of disturbing
emotions. The best antidote to this disruption is enhancing our ability to handle
these emotions.
If humanity is to survive, happiness and inner balance are
crucial. Otherwise the lives of our children and their children are more likely
to be unhappy, desperate and short. Material development certainly contributes
to happiness - to some extent - and a comfortable way of life. But this is not
sufficient. To achieve a deeper level of happiness we cannot neglect our inner
development.
The calamity of 9/11 demonstrated that modern technology and
human intelligence guided by hatred can lead to immense destruction. Such terrible
acts are a violent symptom of an afflicted mental state. To respond wisely and
effectively, we need to be guided by more healthy states of mind, not just to
avoid feeding the flames of hatred, but to respond skillfully. We would do well
to remember that the war against hatred and terror can be waged on this, the internal
front, too.
*********************
The
Buddhist View toward Other Religions
Singapore
August 10, 1988
Revised excerpt from Berzin, Alexander and Chodron, Thubten.
Glimpse of Reality.
Singapore: Amitabha Buddhist Centre, 1999.
Question:
How does Buddhism view the existence of other religions?
Answer: Because not
everyone has the same inclinations and interests, Buddha taught various methods
to different people. Citing this example, His Holiness the Dalai Lama has said
that it is wonderful that so many different religions exist in the world. Just
as one food will not appeal to everybody, one religion or one set of beliefs will
not satisfy everyone's needs. Therefore, it is extremely beneficial that a variety
of different religions is available from which to choose. He welcomes and rejoices
at this.
Nowadays, there is a growing dialogue, based on mutual respect, between
Buddhist masters and leaders of other religions. The Dalai Lama, for example,
meets the Pope frequently. In Assisi, Italy, in October 1986, the Pope invited
the leaders of all the world religions to a large assembly. About one hundred
and fifty representatives were there. The Dalai Lama was seated next to the Pope
and was given the honor of making the first speech. At the conference, the spiritual
leaders discussed topics that are common in all religions, such as morality, love
and compassion. People were very encouraged by the cooperation, harmony and mutual
respect that the various religious leaders felt for each other.
Of course,
if we discuss metaphysics and theology, there are differences. There is no way
to get around the differences. However, that does not mean that we need to need
to argue with the attitude of "My daddy is stronger than your daddy."
That is very childish. It is more beneficial to look at the things that are in
common. All the world religions are seeking to improve the situation of humanity
and to make life better by teaching people to follow ethical behavior. They all
teach people not to become totally caught up in the material side of life, but
at least to strike a balance between seeking material progress and spiritual progress.
It is very helpful if all religions work together to improve the situation
of the world. We need not only material progress, but spiritual progress as well.
If we only emphasize the material aspect of life, then to make a better bomb to
kill everyone would be a desirable goal. If, on the other hand, we think in a
humanistic or spiritual way, we are aware of the fear and other problems that
come from the further buildup of weapons of mass destruction. If we only develop
spiritually and do not take care of the material side then people go hungry, and
that is not very good either. We need a balance.
One aspect of the interaction
between the world religions is that they are sharing with each other some of their
specialties. Consider, for instance, the interaction between the Buddhists and
Christians. Many Christian contemplatives are interested to learn methods for
concentration and meditation from Buddhism. Numerous Catholic priests, abbots,
monks and nuns have come to Dharamsala, India, to learn these skills in order
to bring these back to their own traditions. Several Buddhists have taught in
Catholic seminaries. I, too, have occasionally been invited to teach there on
how to meditate, how to develop concentration, and how to develop love. Christianity
teaches us to love everybody, but it does not explain in detail how to do it.
Buddhism is rich in methods for developing love. The Christian religion on its
highest level is open to learning these methods from Buddhism. It does not mean
that Christians are all going to become Buddhists -- nobody is converting anyone
else. These methods can be adapted within their own religion to help them to be
better Christians.
Likewise, many Buddhists are interested in learning social
service from Christianity. Many Christian traditions emphasize that their monks
and nuns be involved in teaching, in hospital work, caring for the elderly, for
orphans, and so on. Although some Buddhist countries have developed these social
services, not all of them have, for various social and geographical reasons. Buddhists
can learn social service from the Christians. His Holiness the Dalai Lama is very
open to this. It does not mean that the Buddhists are becoming Christians. Rather,
there are certain aspects from the Christians' experience that Buddhists can learn
from; there are also things from the Buddhists' experience that Christians can
learn from. In this way, there is an open forum among the world religions, based
on mutual respect.
Often the interaction among religions is at the highest
level, where the people are open and do not have prejudices. It is at lower levels
that people become insecure and develop a football team mentality: "This
is my football team and the other religions are opposing football teams!"
With such an attitude, we compete and fight. This is very sad, whether it occurs
among religions or among various Buddhist traditions. Buddha taught many varied
methods and they all work harmoniously to help a wide spectrum of different types
of people. Therefore, it is important to respect all traditions, both within Buddhism
and among the world religions.
*********************
Buddhism
and Science
Singapore, August
10, 1988
Revised excerpt from Berzin, Alexander and Chodron, Thubten. Glimpse
of Reality.
Singapore: Amitabha Buddhist Centre, 1999.
Question:
Could you speak more about the relationship between Buddhism and science, and
give some specific examples of points that they share in common?
Answer: The
dialogues between Buddhist masters such as His Holiness the Dalai Lama and scientists
have focused so far primarily on three areas. One is astrophysics, concerning
primarily how the universe developed. Does it have a beginning? Was it created
or is it part of an eternal process? Another topic is particle physics, regarding
the structure of atoms and matter. The third is neurosciences, about how the brain
works. These are the main areas.
One of the conclusions that both science
and Buddhism reach in common is that there is no creator. In science, the theory
of the conservation of matter and energy states that matter and energy can neither
be created nor destroyed, only transformed. Buddhists totally agree and extend
the principle to mind as well. "Mind" in Buddhism means awareness of
phenomena - either conscious or unconscious - and awareness of phenomena can neither
be created nor destroyed, only transformed. Thus, rebirth is simply a transformation
in the ongoing continuity of an individual's awareness of phenomena, but now with
the physical basis of another body.
Particle physicists emphasize the role
of the observer in defining anything. For example, from a certain point of view,
light is matter; from another point of view, it is energy. What type of phenomenon
light exists as depends on many variables, particularly on the conceptual framework
the investigator is using to analyze it. Thus, phenomena do not exist inherently
as this or that from their own sides, unrelated to the consciousness that perceives
them.
Buddhism asserts the same thing: what things exist as depends on the
observer and the conceptual framework with which the person regards them. For
example, whether a certain situation exists as a horrible problem or as something
solvable depends on the observer, the person involved. If somebody has the conceptual
framework, "This is an impossible situation and nothing can be done,"
then there really is a difficult problem that cannot be solved. However, with
the frame of mind that thinks, "This is complicated and complex, but there
is a solution if we approach it in a different way," then that person is
much more open to try to find a solution. What is a huge problem for one person
is not a big deal for another. It depends on the observer, for our problems do
not inherently exist as monstrous problems. Thus, science and Buddhism come to
the same conclusion: phenomena exist as this or that dependent on the observer.
Similarly, neurologists and Buddhists both note the dependently arising relationship
of things. For example, when the neurologists examine the brain in an attempt
to find what makes our decisions, they find that there is no separate "decision-maker"
in the brain. No little person called "me" sits inside the head, receiving
information from the eyes, ears and so on, as if on a computer screen, and makes
decisions by pushing a button so that the arm does this and the leg does that.
Rather, decisions are the results of complex interactions of an enormous network
of nerve impulses and chemical and electrical processes. Together, they bring
the result, a decision. This happens without there being a distinct entity that
is a decision- maker. Buddhism emphasizes the same thing: there is no "me"
which is permanent and solid sitting in our heads, which makes our decisions.
Conventionally, we say, "I'm experiencing this. I'm doing that," but
actually, what occurs is the result of a very complex interaction of many different
factors. Science and Buddhism are very close in this regard.
Question: What
is time? As students, we need to be on time for lectures and to have sufficient
time to prepare for our studies or fulfill our responsibilities at work. How can
we understand time in order to make life easier?
Answer: Buddhism defines
time as "a measurement of change." We can measure change in terms of
the motion of the planets or the position of the sun in the sky. We can measure
it in terms of how many lectures we go to in a semester ? we have gone to twelve
and two more are left ? or we can measure it in terms of physical, bodily cycles
? the menstrual cycle, the number of breaths we take, and so on. These are different
ways of measuring change and time is simply a measurement of change.
Time
does exist, but according to how we think of it, time affects us differently.
For example, we think, "I only have one day left before the exam!" Because
we are thinking of time in a small number, we get anxious because we do not have
enough time. If we think of it in a different way, "There are twenty- four
hours left," then there seems to be ample time to do some preparation. Psychologically,
it depends on how we look at it. If we view time as something solid and oppressive,
we will be overwhelmed by it and will not have enough time. However, if we look
at it openly, as how much time we have, we will try to use it constructively,
instead of becoming upset.
Question: Buddhism emphasizes logic and reasoning.
Is there a certain point, as in other religions, at which a leap of faith is necessary?
Answer: Buddhism does not require that. We can see this from the Buddhist
definition of what exists. What exists is defined as ? that which can be known.?
If it cannot be known, then it does not exist, for example, rabbit horns, turtle
hair, or chicken lips. We can imagine human lips on a chicken; we can imagine
a cartoon drawing of lips on a chicken; but we can never see chicken lips on a
chicken because there is no such thing. It does not exist because it cannot be
known.
This implies that everything that exists can be known. It is possible
for our minds - namely, our mental activity of awareness of phenomena - to encompass
everything. There are statements in the scriptures saying that the absolute is
beyond the mind and beyond words. Firstly, I do not like to translate the term
as "absolute" in English because it gives the connotation that it is
beyond us, as if it were something up in the sky. Instead, I prefer to translate
it as "the deepest fact about things." The deepest fact about things
does exist. It is beyond mind and beyond concepts and words in the sense that
it is beyond our usual ways of perceiving things. Language and conception imply
that things exist in black and white categories. Good person, bad person, idiot,
genius ? the implication of using language is that things actually exist in such
well-defined, independent categories: "This is a dumb person. He cannot do
anything correctly." "This is a great person." Perceiving reality
is seeing that things do not exist in these fantasized, impossible ways, in black
and white categories. Things are more open and dynamic. Someone may not be able
to do something now, but that does not mean that he or she is exclusively an idiot.
The person can be many other things - a friend, a parent, and so on.
Thus,
when we say that the deepest fact about things is that they exist in a way that
is beyond mind and beyond words, we are referring to the fact that things do not
exist in the ways that concepts and language imply they do. Our minds are capable
of encompassing that.
It is not that our minds cannot encompass certain things
so we must make a leap of faith to believe in them. Buddhism never demands us
to have blind faith. On the contrary, Buddha said, "Do not believe what I
say just out of respect for me, but test it out yourself, as if you were buying
gold." That is true on all levels.
The logic of a particular point may
not be immediately obvious to us. However, we do not reject something just because
initially we do not understand it. By patiently learning and investigating, something
that we previously did not understand can start to make sense.
*********************
Dalai
Lama takes message to arena
By
Michael Paulson, Globe Staff, 9/15/2003
The Dalai Lama yesterday brought his
message of nonviolence and religious tolerance to the FleetCenter, declaring to
a full house of 14,578 that "disarmament is our only hope."
But
he gave a mixed message on war, acknowledging that the Second World War and the
Korean War had made positive contributions to human society, and he said that
only time will tell whether the war in Iraq was justifiable.
And he sounded
notes of simultaneous pessimism and optimism on the situation in Tibet, his home
country, which is controlled by China. The Dalai Lama is not only the spiritual
leader of Tibetan Buddhists, but leads the Tibetan government-in-exile, and he
won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1989 for his advocacy of nonviolence as he leads
his people in a struggle for cultural autonomy.
"From my perspective,
I am optimistic," he said, speaking just days after meeting with President
Bush and Secretary of State Colin L. Powell in Washington. "But if you look
at the developments, sometimes it feels hopeless."
The Dalai Lama said
that a growing number of Chinese intellectuals are sympathetic to the plight of
Tibetans, who have little religious or political freedom under China, and that
the gradual increase in democracy in mainland China causes him to feel hopeful
that Tibet, too, will eventually benefit from such change. But the Dalai Lama
said he is worried about "cultural genocide," a loss of Tibetan language
and culture, as large numbers of ethnic Chinese move into Tibet, threatening to
make Tibetans a smaller minority in their own land.
The Dalai Lama, whose given
name is Tenzin Gyatso, spoke for about an hour, then fielded questions for another
25 minutes. He was greeted by a standing ovation when he began and ended, and
the crowd also rose as he entered and greeted him silently by bowing toward him
with their hands clasped in a traditional Tibetan greeting.
The venue provided
a somewhat surreal setting for the 68-year-old Buddhist monk, whose followers
believe he is the 14th incarnation of the Buddha of Compassion. Dressed in a sleeveless
red and saffron robe, he sat on a white lounge chair on a small stage at one end
of the cavernous sports arena. His image was beamed through the arena on overhead
video screens bearing logos for Dunkin' Donuts, McDonald's, and PCConnection.com;
the crowd of Buddhists, pacifists, and spiritual seekers sat quietly beneath rafters
decorated with the championship banners of the Celtics and the Bruins.
The
corridors of the FleetCenter were filled with an unusual array of vendors selling
books by and about the Dalai Lama, or products with names such as "Dharma
Crafts." Activists set up tables promoting Tibetan meditation centers and
organizations such as the MIT Buddhist Community, the Tibetan Nuns Project, and
Students for a Free Tibet. The International Campaign for Tibet collected signatures
on petitions urging a negotiated solution to the Tibet-China conflict, while the
Tibetan Association of Boston raised money for a proposed Tibetan Cultural Center
in Boston.
The Dalai Lama's message was to exhort people to pursue lives characterized
by compassion, forgiveness, contentment, tolerance, and self-respect, all of which,
he said, can lead to happiness. He said Westerners focus too much on material
acquisition, and not enough on internal satisfaction.
"We tend to be not
contented with what we possess in material objects -- we always want more and
more -- but with our inner qualities we remain quite complacent, and we don't
strive for better," he said.
He also encouraged the pursuit of nonviolence,
and said schools should teach dialogue as a method of conflict resolution. He
said many wars have been failures, and called for global demilitarization. But
he also said that some wars have provided benefits, citing the Second World War,
which he said "protected civilization, democracy, and decency," and
the Korean War, which he said "saved South Korea, not only for freedom but
for prosperity."
The Dalai Lama sprinkled his talk with humor. As he opened,
he warned that anyone who came expecting that he had special healing powers was
sure to be disappointed, and wiggling his fingers in the air, he said, "If
someone really has healing power, then I would like to call them about my knees."
Many
of those who attended last night's speech are not Buddhists, but said they were
interested to hear the Dalai Lama because of his philosophy of nonviolence.
"We
support world peace, and we like his methods," said Ashley Bryant, a 15-year-old
high school student from Marblehead.
The FleetCenter talk was one of several
steps the Dalai Lama has taken during this trip to reach out to American Buddhists
and to Americans interested in Buddhism. On Friday, he consecrated a Tibetan Buddhist
temple in Medford, the Kurukulla Center, which is shared by Buddhists of American
and Tibetan origin. And yesterday, he met privately with the Rev. William G. Sinkford,
president of the Boston-based Unitarian Universalist Association, to discuss the
high number of Unitarian Universalists who either identify themselves as Buddhists
or who have adopted some Buddhist practices.
Also over the weekend, the Dalai
Lama engaged in an unusual public discussion with scientists about what Buddhists
and scientists can learn from one another. As that discussion ended yesterday,
the Dalai Lama said that science until now has focused on the study of the external
and physical, but now must more intensely examine emotion and the way the mind
works in order to prevent humans from harming each other and to shed light on
the internal path to peace.
"We must understand the nature of reality
to overcome suffering and achieve happiness," he said. Buddhists believe
in opposing forces, he said, and believe that the weakening of one force, such
as hatred, will cause the strengthening of its opposite, love.
The Dalai Lama
is to spend today at Harvard University, meeting with a variety of scholars associated
with the school's Asia Center. His one public event, a 4 p.m. talk with the Harvard
community in Memorial Church, is sold out, but it will be simulcast in the Harvard
Science Center and webcast on the Harvard University Asia Center's Internet site.
Michael
Paulson can be reached at mpaulson@globe.com. Globe correspondent Ron DePasquale
contributed to this report.
© Copyright 2003 Globe Newspaper Company.
********************
Emotional
Reactions During Yoga
By Sarah
Powers
Lately during my yoga classes, I find myself feeling very emotional.
Several times I have felt my eyes fill up with tears during a pose. This has happened
even on good days. Why is this, and is it normal?
-June
Sarah Powers'
reply:
Emotional reactions during yoga sessions are very common. When we commit
to the yogic path through the physical asana practice, we are doing much more
than just exercising our bodies. Although it is slowly becoming more accepted
in the West, it is much more common in Asian thought to recognize the inseparability
of the body, mind, and emotions. Chinese doctors insist that our organs are linked
to our emotions, which affects our overall health, while Indian Ayurvedic doctors
and yogis inform us of the interconnection between our state of mind, our breath,
and our bodies. So, it naturally follows that the emotional impact of our experiences
are imprinted into our bodies, affecting the balance of our vital energy and the
harmony (or disharmony) of our whole system.
Both our inherited constitution
and all that we have digested in the manner of food and life experience is continually
forming and reforming in our ever-changing bodies. During a yoga session, as we
stretch and strengthen our muscles, organs, joints, and bones, we release blocked
or stagnant energy--both physical/energetic and emotional. The body's energy is
in constant motion, but through habitual protection, unaware living, trauma, or
disposition, this constant flow stagnates in certain areas of the body. Without
a practice to supplement this deficiency of flowing vital energy, we can end up
physically sick or become closed off to deeper feeling tones, leaving us unable
to access the immediacy of life in its moments.
In addition to the physical
and energetic impact of yoga practice, it is also an awareness discipline that
is not merely focused on moving the body with a physical goal in mind as in sports,
dance, or calisthenics. Our willfulness when playing sports may override our emotions,
but in yoga asana we have a precious opportunity to welcome in all states, uncensored
and free of expectations or analysis. For this reason, you may notice a release
of emotional energy seemingly unrelated to the specific moment at hand. As you
become mindful of your emotions, you will be able to include a broader range of
feeling states to be metabolized as they are happening, which is called spontaneous
mindfulness.
But this is a process, and we have developed conditioned patterns
that remain held in the body. Yoga is a great way of moving these patterns through
you. I suggest neither blocking nor seeking to mentally figure out these feelings
as they emerge during your practice. Simply stay with the feeling-tone itself
and notice the way it affects your experience in your body.
Depending on the
shade of the emotion, you might experience sensations like a change in breath
rhythm, tightness in the belly or restrictions in the chest. You might also feel
waves of chills through the spine, contraction in the shoulders, or a heaviness
of heart with tears in the eyes. Often accompanying these experiences are uninvestigated
beliefs and assumptions going on in the mind.
We may be playing out a story
in our heads about ourselves or someone else that we assume to be true. Awareness
practice teaches us to diminish feeding the story line, which greatly stimulates
the emotional tenor, creating a whole chemical reaction in the body. This can
then cycle us into more fragmented thoughts, wild emotions, and further disconnection
from our bodies. There is nothing wrong with emotional release during our yoga
poses--this is healing.
The problem occurs when we either unskillfully indulge
in or ignore what is arising for us presently. The best way to practice is to
stay with what is true this moment and to let go of holding on or pushing away
any aspect of your experience. Stay curious of the process, while relaxing any
expectation that something other than what is happening should be happening. Whenever
you are persistently overwhelmed by these emotions, I suggest you seek out a spiritual
friend or mentor with whom to process the storm.
Sarah Powers blends the insights
of yoga and Buddhism in her practice and teaching. She incorporates both a Yin
style of holding poses and a Vinyasa style of moving with the breath, blending
essential aspects of the Iyengar, Ashtanga, and Viniyoga traditions. Pranayama
and meditation are always included in her practice and classes. Sarah has been
a student of Buddhism in both Asia and the U.S. and draws inspiration from teachers
such as Jack Kornfield, Toni Packer, and Tsoknyi Rinpoche. Sarah also draws inspiration
from the Self Inquiry (Atma Vichara) of the Advaita Vedanta philosophy. She lives
in Marin, California where she home schools her daughter and teaches classes.
For more information go to www.sarahpowers.com.
*********************
Following
the Dharma and Avoiding Suffering
Tsenzhab
Serkong Rinpoche
New Delhi, India, December 7, 1979
translated by Alexander
Berzin, edited by Nicholas Ribush
lighted revised by Alexander Berzin, 2003
Originally
published as
Tsenshab Serkong Rinpoche. "Renunciation." In Teachings
at Tushita,
ed. Glenn Mullin and Nicholas Ribush. New Delhi: Mahayana Publications,
1981
Recognizing Suffering
The
Sanskrit word Dharma, chö (chos) in Tibetan, means to hold or to uphold.
What is upheld or maintained? The elimination of suffering and the attainment
of happiness. Dharma does this not only for us, but for all beings.
The sufferings
we experience are of two types: those immediately visible to us as humans and
those we cannot see without extrasensory powers. The former include the pain involved
in the birth process, the unpleasantness of occasionally becoming sick, the misery
experienced with growing old and aging, and the terror of death.
The sufferings
that come after death are not visible to an ordinary person. We might think that
after we die, we will probably be reborn as a human being. However, this is not
necessarily the case. There is no logical reason for us to assume that such an
evolution will occur. Nor is it the case that after we die we will not take rebirth
at all.
As for the particular type of rebirth we will take, this is something
very difficult to know, something not presently within our sphere of knowledge.
If we generate positive karma during this life, it will naturally follow that
we will take happy forms of rebirth in the future. Conversely, if we create mostly
negative karma, we will not take a happy rebirth, but will experience great difficulties
in lower states of being. This is certain. Rebirth functions that way. If we plant
a seed of wheat, what grows is a wheat plant. If we plant a seed of rice, a rice
plant is produced. Similarly, by creating negative karma we plant seeds of rebirth
in one of the three lower states as a hell creature, a hungry ghost, or an animal.
There
are four different states or realms of hells (joyless realms): hot, cold, neighboring
and occasional hells. To further subdivide these, there are eight different hot
hells. The first of these is known as the Reviving Hell. This is the one of least
suffering, relatively speaking. To understand the extent of the misery experienced
here, the pain of a person caught in a great fire would be very slight in comparison
with that of beings in the first hot hell. Each hell below the Reviving Hell has
an increasingly intense degree of misery.
Although the sufferings of hell creatures
and hungry ghosts may not be visible to us, those of the animals can be seen with
our eyes. If we wonder what would happen if we ourselves were to be reborn as
animals, we can just look at the street animals and beasts of burden around us
here in India and think what it would be like to have their conditions. Dharma
is what holds us back and protects us from experiencing the suffering of these
lower rebirths.
The entire wheel of rebirth, the whole of uncontrollably recurring
existence (samsara), has the nature of suffering. Dharma is what safeguards us
from all samsaric suffering. Moreover, the Mahayana Dharma, the teachings of the
Great Vehicle, brings protection not only to us, but to all limited beings (sentient
beings).
Taking the Safe Direction of Refuge
In Buddhism, we hear a lot
about the Three Jewels of Refuge - Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. The first of these
includes all the fully enlightened beings, who teach the Dharma. Buddha Shakyamuni,
who first turned the wheel of Dharma at Varanasi by teaching the four noble truths,
is most significant to us. The last of these four truths - true paths - is the
Dharma to be practiced in order to achieve liberation. This is the refuge object
of safe direction called the Dharma Gem.
Dharma practice entails two things:
recognizing the root of samsaric suffering and eradicating this root. What is
the root of recurring existence? It is the grasping for a truly existent self
and for the true existence of phenomena. We need to develop a repulsion for this
grasping which brings us all our sufferings. We must develop an understanding
of the antidote to grasping at true existence. This antidote is the wisdom (discriminating
awareness) of selflessness or identitylessness. It is this understanding of selflessness
that will bring us liberation from suffering.
The sufferings we experience
in samsara do not occur without a cause. They are caused by the disturbing emotions
and attitudes (delusions) and by the karma created by them. The root of all disturbing
emotions and attitudes and of karma is the grasping for a self. When we understand
this, we aspire to obtain the antidote to this grasping for a self. Why have we
not yet developed the antidote in our mental continuums? Why don't we understand
selflessness? One reason is that we are not sufficiently aware of death and impermanence.
Death
and Impermanence
The only possible outcome of birth is death. We are inevitably
going to die. There is no living being whose life did not end with death. People
try many methods to prevent death's occurrence, but it is impossible. No medicine
can cure us of death.
Just to think, "I'm going to die," isn't really
the correct way to contemplate death. Of course, everyone is going to die, but
merely thinking about this fact is not very powerful. It is not the proper method.
In the same way, just thinking of the fact that we are going to disintegrate and
degenerate, that our bodies are going to decompose, is not enough. What we have
to think about is how to prevent our downfall.
If we think about the fear that
comes at the time of death and about how to eliminate that fear, then our meditation
on death will be effective. People who have accumulated a great deal of negative
karma during their lives become very frightened at the time of death. They cry,
tears run down their cheeks, their mouths dribble, they excrete in their clothing,
and are completely overwhelmed. These are clear signs of the suffering that occurs
at the time of death because of fear caused by negative actions performed during
life.
Alternatively, if during our lifetimes we refrain from committing negative
actions, the time of death is very easy for us to face. The experience is one
of joy, like that of a child going home to its parents. If we have purified ourselves,
we can die happily. By refraining from the ten negative ways and cultivating their
opposites, the ten constructive actions, our deaths will be easy and as a result
we won't have to experience rebirth in a condition of suffering. We can be assured
of rebirth in more fortunate states. By planting the seeds of medicinal plants
we obtain trees with medicinal powers, by planting the seeds of poisonous trees
we produce only harmful fruits. If we plant the seeds of constructive actions
on our consciousness, we will experience happiness in future rebirths. We will
have fortunate situations both mentally and physically. This basic teaching of
the Dharma - avoid destructive deeds and cultivate constructive ones - is given
not only in Buddhism, but also in many other religions, including Christianity.
How do we contemplate death and impermanence? As mentioned previously, just
thinking, "I'm going to die," is not very beneficial. We need to think,
"If I have committed any of the ten destructive actions, at death I will
have a great deal of fear and suffering to face, and as a result I will devolve
to a rebirth of intense misfortune. On the other hand, if during my life I have
created positive force (merit), at death I will not experience fear or suffering
and will be reborn in a more fortunate state." That is the correct way to
contemplate death.
This meditation need not be merely the gloomy, pessimistic
thought, "I'm going to die and there is nothing I can do about it."
Rather, we need to think in terms of what will happen when we die. "Where
will I go after death? What sort of causes have I created? Can I make my death
a happy one? How? Can I make my future rebirths happy? How?"
When contemplating
future rebirths, we need to remember that there is no place in samsara that is
reliable. No matter what body we take, it must eventually pass away. We read in
history of people who have lived for a hundred or even a thousand years. Yet,
no matter how fantastic these accounts are, there is no case of a person who did
not eventually have to die. Any type of samsaric body that we gain is subject
to death.
Nor is there a place to where we can go in order to escape death.
No matter where we are, when the time comes, we will have to die. Then no amount
of medicine, mantras, or practice will help. Surgical operations may cure certain
types of diseases within our bodies, but there are none that can prevent death.
No
matter what type of rebirth we gain, it will be subject to death. The process
is ongoing. Contemplating the long-range effects of our actions and how the process
of birth, life, death, and rebirth is continuous will help us generate much positive
karma.
Although we sometimes plan to practice the Dharma, we usually plan to
do so tomorrow, or the day after. However, none of us can tell when we will die.
If we had a guarantee that we definitely had one hundred years left to live, we
would have free space in which to arrange our practice. But there is not the slightest
certainty when we will die. To put off our practice is very foolish. Some humans
die in the womb even before they are born, others die as small babies before they
learn to walk. It doesn't follow that we are going to live a long life.
Our
bodies are very fragile. If they were made of stone or iron, perhaps they might
give some feeling of stability. But if we investigate, we will see that the human
body is very weak. It is very easy for something to go wrong with it. It is like
a delicate wristwatch made from countless tiny fragile parts. It is not something
to be trusted. There are many circumstances that can cause our death: food poisoning,
the bite of a tiny insect, or even the prick of a poisonous thorn. Such small
conditions can kill us. The food and liquid that we use to extend our lives can
become the circumstances that end it. There is no certainty at all as to when
we will die, or what circumstances will cause our death.
Even if we feel certain
that we will live for a hundred years, many years of that span have passed already
and we haven't accomplished much. We approach death like a man sleeping in a railway
carriage, constantly getting closer and closer to the destination, yet unaware
of the process. There is little we can do to stop this process. We just constantly
come ever-closer to death.
No matter how much money, jewelry, houses or clothes
we have accumulated during our lives, it will make no difference whatsoever at
the time of our deaths. When we die, we will have to go empty-handed. Not even
the tiniest material object can be taken with us. The body itself must be left
behind. The body and the mind separate and the mind-stream continues by itself.
Not only is it impossible to take a possession with us, we cannot even take our
bodies.
Karma
What accompanies the consciousness after death? If we have
to leave our bodies, our friends, and all our possessions, is there any helper
or anything that accompanies our consciousness to a future life?
There is something
that follows the consciousness after death: the karmic legacies (seeds) that we
have built up during this lifetime. If we have committed any of the ten negative
karmic actions, a negative karmic legacy or karmic debt will accompany our mental
continuums as they go on into our future rebirths. By killing other beings, stealing
others' possessions, or indulging in sexual misconduct, negative karmic legacies
from these destructive actions of the body are placed on the mind-stream. By lying,
slandering others and causing disunity among people, harming others with words,
or speaking meaninglessly, the negative karmic debts of these negative actions
of speech will travel with us at the time of death. If we have had many covetous
thoughts, often wishing to have the possessions of others; if we have had ill-will
toward others, wishing that they be harmed or that something bad would happen
to them; or if we have thought in a distorted antagonistic manner, such as "there
are no past or future lives," "there is no such thing as cause and effect,"
"there's no such thing as the safe direction of refuge," these destructive
actions of mind will generate negative karmic legacies that travel with and direct
our minds into future rebirths.
The reverse is also true. If we have performed
positive actions and turned away from creating negativity, the karmic legacies
of such positive energy will travel on our mind-streams and produce better circumstances
in our future lives.
When we really think about the situation we are in, we
will resolve to try in every way to generate positive karma and eliminate its
opposite. We need to try to cleanse ourselves of as much negativity as possible,
not leaving even the smallest karmic debt to be repaid in our future lives.
We
need to look at what type of reactions can happen within the law of cause and
effect. There is the account of a person who had very many good qualities, but
was harsh in his speech. He abused another, saying, "You talk like a dog."
As a result, he himself was reborn as a dog five hundred times. A seemingly small
action can have a very large result.
Similarly, a very small positive action
can produce a great result. There is the account of a young child who made a humble
offering to the Buddha and, as a result, was reborn as the great king Ashoka,
who built thousands of Buddhist monuments and performed countless sublime activities.
Renunciation
and Compassion
Contemplating the various types of destructive actions that
we have committed and their results is a very effective way of ensuring our welfare
and happiness. If we think of the suffering we ourselves will have to experience
as a result of our negativity and thus give birth to a very strong wish not to
have to experience this type of misery, we have developed what is called "renunciation."
Acquainting
ourselves with this type of thinking in itself is a form of meditation. First,
we need to develop mindfulness of our own suffering; then we need to extend this
mindfulness to all living beings. Consider how all beings do not wish to have
any suffering, yet are caught in a suffering predicament. This type of thinking
leads us to compassion. If we do not develop the wish to be free from all our
own suffering, how can we develop the wish for other beings to be free from theirs?
We can put an end to all our own suffering, yet this is not ultimately beneficial.
We need to extend this wish to all living beings, who also desire happiness. We
can train our minds and develop the wish for everyone to be completely parted
from their sufferings. This is a much wider and more beneficial way of thinking.
Why
do we need to be concerned with other living beings? Because we receive so much
from others. For instance, the milk that we drink comes from the kindness of the
cows and the buffaloes, the warm clothing that protects us from the cold and wind
comes from the wool of sheep and goats, and so forth. These are just a few examples
of why we need to try to find a method that can eliminate their sufferings.
No
matter what type of practice we do - the recitation of mantra or any kind of meditation
-we need always to retain the thought, "May this benefit all limited beings."
This will naturally bring benefit to us as well. Our ordinary life situations
can give us an appreciation of this. For example, if someone is very selfish and
always works for his own gain, he will not really be liked by others. On the other
hand, someone who is kind and always thinks of helping others is usually liked
by everybody.
The thought to be developed in our mental continuums is, "May
everybody be happy and may nobody suffer." We must try to incorporate this
into our own thinking through recollecting it again and again. This can be extremely
beneficial. Beings who in the past have developed this type of thinking are now
great Buddhas, bodhisattvas, or saints; all the truly great men and women of the
world based themselves on it. How wonderful if we could try to generate it ourselves!
The Karma of Harming Others to Protect Our Loved Ones
Question: Are we
advised not to defend ourselves when somebody tries to harm us?
Rinpoche: This
question introduces a very extensive subject. If someone hits you over the head
with a club or stick, the best response is to meditate that you are experiencing
this because of your own past negative actions. Think how this person is allowing
this particular karmic legacy to ripen now, rather than sometime in the future.
You need to feel gratitude that he has eliminated this negative karmic debt from
your mind-stream.
Question: What if someone attacks my wife or child, who
are under my protection? Do I defend them? Would it be a negative action to do
so?
Rinpoche: As it is your duty and responsibility protect your wife and child,
you must try to do so in as skillful a manner as possible. You need to be clever.
Best is to protect them without harming the attacker. In other words, you need
to find a method of protecting them whereby you do not inflict any harm.
Question:
He can harm my children, but I cannot harm him? Isn't it our duty to defend our
children against barbarous and cruel acts? Shall we just lay down our lives?
Rinpoche:
In order to handle this situation skillfully you need a great deal of courage.
There is an account about a previous life of the Buddha, in which he was a navigator
who went to sea with a group of five hundred people in search of a buried treasure.
There was one man in this party who had very greedy thoughts and, in order to
steal all the jewels for himself, was plotting to murder the five hundred. The
bodhisattva (Shakyamuni Buddha in a previous life) was aware of this and thought
that to let the situation develop was incorrect, as one man would kill five hundred.
Therefore, he developed the very courageous thought to save the five hundred by
killing this one man, willingly accepting upon himself the full responsibility
of killing. If you are willing to accept having to be reborn in a hell in order
to save others, you have a greatly courageous thought. Then you can engage in
these acts, just as the Buddha himself did.
Question: Under such circumstances
is killing still considered a negative action?
Rinpoche: Nagarjuna wrote in
his Friendly Letter that if one commits negativity in the name of protecting one's
parents, children, Buddhism, or the Three Jewels of Refuge, one will have to experience
the consequences. The difference is in whether or not you are aware of the consequences
and are willing to take them upon yourself in order selflessly to protect your
wife and child. If you harm the enemy, you are going to experience a suffering
rebirth. However, you need to be willing to face this by thinking, "I will
take that suffering on myself and then my wife and child won't suffer."
Question:
Then according to Buddhism, it would still be a negative act?
Rinpoche: To
protect your wife and child is a positive constructive act, but to harm the enemy
is negative and destructive. You have to be willing to accept the consequences
of both.
Question: You said that if one creates negative karma one will suffer
in the future, but if one does good, happiness will follow. Can these good actions
lead to complete salvation, in the sense of not having to experience rebirth?
Rinpoche:
If you wish to achieve salvation, you have to follow the teachings completely
and precisely. For instance, if you are following the Christian path, you must
follow the teachings of Christ perfectly. Then Christian salvation is possible.
Jesus alone cannot save us from our sins; we ourselves have to do something. Otherwise,
why would Jesus have said not to sin? If we ourselves follow correctly what Jesus
taught, I think that Christian salvation is possible. If we follow correctly the
teachings of Buddha, Buddhist "salvation" - liberation - is possible.
*********************
How
to Wake Up from Fear and Worry
- Advice from a Tibetan Lama in Response to September 11
A Talk by Kilung Tulku
Tsultrim Rinpoche, Head of the Kilung Monastery in Eastern Tibet
Presented
on November 11, 2001
Sponsored by Kilung Foundation and Travelers
Most
people of the earth felt the events of September 11. I was in Singapore and heard
the news on television. At the same time, I received a phone call from Tibet with
the news that on exactly the same day a very kind and high lama in Tibet had passed
away. That created an additional connection for me. How interesting to think about
coincidences like this. These events underscore the teaching of impermanence,
how everything is changeable.
Looking outside at the fall weather, we can see
impermanence and change. One moment it's warm, then cold, then windy, then warm
again. Like autumn weather, the human condition is very changeable. We can be
very happy one moment and very sad the next, then happy again. Yet, we need and
want to continue living without being so reactive or subject to changing emotions.
Tibetans have a lot of experience since the 1950's about change and impermanence.
The Tibetan people lost homes, belongings, family and friends. It can be helpful
to us now, considering the events of September 11, to look at how the Tibetan
people dealt with these losses. Some Tibetan people, especially the older ones,
still suffer. They have never re-engaged with their interests of daily life. Other
people have rebounded and become active in life again. There are so many different
ways of dealing with the feelings. It's best to be able to shake off the feelings
of loss, like shaking dirt off of clothes, and appreciate what life offers in
the present. Otherwise, the loss becomes a great obscuration to us.
It might
seem like the September 11 tragedy was felt only in the United States, but this
is not true. Thinking globally, people in the United States, especially younger
people, do not have much experience with such tragedy. In this way, it is easy
to feel alone with the pain. However, the greater part of the world has experience
with tragedy and loss. With the events of September 11, many people came together
with help and prayers. In Nepal, where I was, everyone was talking about what
happened. The monks at Kilung Monastery did prayers as did many monks and lamas
at other locations. It's like the world came together with a single mind, one
of aspiring to the good.
It's easy to consume our minds with asking how something
as awful as September 11 could have happened. It's easy to be angry. It's best
not to create so much anger, disappointment, and sadness. In the face of tragedy,
there is a moment of great sadness, true. However, even in the face of great tragedies
it's better to think about how to create benefit. Different persons will have
different views of how to create this benefit-it won't be the same for two persons.
This is not to ignore the tragedy, rather to remember that for those of us remaining,
we are still alive. We can do many great things.
After a tragedy, sometimes
the shock is like being asleep. For example, in Tibet in the 1950's, the people
had much sleepy energy. They could not think clearly. People felt unable to practice
[the Dharma]. Everything slowed down and many things stopped. It's important to
wake up, though to participate in life.
After a tragedy, it's best to invoke
the stronger aspect of ourselves to help ourselves think of the best things for
helping and not to be so sleepy. There are so many things we can do:
"
Pray. We can pray for everyone in those buildings [that were attacked] and on
those airplanes. We can extend those prayers for all beings to have happiness.
I was in Nepal at the time and was fortunate to be able to contact my monastery
in Tibet. The people there offered a great number of prayers.
" Wake up.
We can make sure we wake up
" Become aware of what's important. What is
important? What can lead to benefit? Think of children quarreling over a piece
of candy. The piece of candy seems more important than it really is. As adults,
we have our versions of quarreling over a piece of candy. Thinking of what's important
can help us direct our energy to healing rather than quarreling. What would really
benefit? Maybe we can share the piece of candy.
" Speak up or write letters.
In the United States, people have the freedom to talk, to write letters to the
government. People in the U.S. 4. Speak up or write letters. In the United States,
people have the freedom to talk, to write letters to the government. People in
the U.S. are fortunate to be able to do this. This is not possible in all countries.
It does take time to heal. We don't expect these tragedies. We are not prepared
and the shock is great when tragedies like this occur. So, the feelings stay.
To start, do an everyday activity that interests you. You may feel like that everyday
activity is too small and doesn't help the world. The point is that it helps you
become active again, to wake up from the sleepiness.
It's better not to have
so much anger. In our Bainbridge group, one woman responded that it's difficult
not to have so much anger. When we get angry, we need to ask ourselves, "Why
am I angry?" "What is the source of the anger?" In the Buddhist
concept, karma (cause and effect) is involved. Maybe it's our karmic turn to receive
this tragedy. Responding with anger just keeps the karma of anger in motion. So,
it's better not to respond with anger. It's important to consider what this country
[the U.S.] has done to receive this tragedy.
No doubt, there's great suffering
with the type of tragedy that occurred on September 11th. This type of tragedy
happened to large extent in Tibet during the 1950's during the Chinese invasion.
I didn't experience the Chinese invasion directly as I was not born yet. I have
seen photos and heard the stories from family and friends. There was so much suffering.
For many, there still is. There is much suffering in Afghanistan today many people
have no food or shelter. That's why it is important to ask ourselves how we can
benefit the situation and what the truth is. If we think how the whole world is
"like me," the separation decreases, there's less anger and more room
for benefit. Having great anger keeps suffering alive.
It's interesting in
the U.S. because the country is so big and powerful. On the one hand, the country
is helping with food and relief. On the other hand, bombing.
Let's consider
what comes up in the personal mind. When strong emotions come up, they tend to
get stronger. The emotion can be peaceful, angry, or neutral. Whatever the emotion,
it tends to get stronger. That's why it's important for us to ask ourselves what's
best for human beings, for the earth. This helps counteract angry thoughts and
moves our energy and activity in a beneficial direction.
When sad, it's better
to be a bit active than lethargic. So, again, it's important to keep doing daily
activities. Let yourself feel completely open and gently ask, "What's important?"
This helps the healing. Start small and in the moment. For example, listen to
music if that helps. Go for a walk. In days gone by, when kings were bored, they'd
have dancers entertain them. Then they could "wake-up" and think more
clearly. If you follow a spiritual tradition, this is a good time to pray and
do practices of your tradition. Prayer and dedication of the merit of prayer are
very powerful ways to transform a situation. Then, you can let go of the situation
mentally. Otherwise, the situation seems like a big backpack on the mind heavy!
If you can take off the backpack, you can feel yourself get lighter. You can think
lightly.
We are lucky. We are still alive. It's our turn to do good things.
We can shake off the sleep and wake up. That's important to wake up! Then it's
easier to do some prayers. Otherwise, with we may feel that it's difficult to
pray without hesitancy. We can work into thinking of compassion equally for all,
not this side or that side. We can think of the whole earth undivided. This can
be difficult, because we often think of the "big I" and "big You,"
which results in much separation. Instead, think intelligently of everyone on
this earth being brothers and sisters. Think of Mother Earth and all her children,
that we are all related as human beings. There's so much we can dedicate in prayer!
This is just one example. That's not physical. Physically, we can think of no
differences between "my" country and other country.
If we have understanding,
awareness that is strong enough, intelligent enough, we can balance our thoughts
without wanting to hurt those "on the other side" and taking care only
of ourselves on "this side." That is one way to start thinking. Each
of us can wake up our mind and clearly see how best to help and think. There's
not so much difference between sides. Having an equal balance of feelings helps
decrease pressure. We can be more balanced in our thoughts and actions. One's
feelings and life are not so involved then with great disaster.
When the mind
is sad, the body cannot respond. Then we get mentally involved. In Tibet, many
people became mentally ill. They could not forget. Some people are still holding
on to the suffering. The feelings are strong and powerful. It seems like big actions
are needed to respond to the largeness of the tragedy, so we feel helpless. It's
too much. Thinking and being involved mentally with the violence creates and holds
negative emotions. This can make the situation worse and lead to ill health. So,
it's important not to be so involved mentally.
After thousands die, it's important
to make sure that we, who remain, are strong and happy. But if the mind is asleep
and keeping negative thoughts, it's difficult. We need to think more strongly
healthily. This is most important! We can be part of our own healing we can do
prayers and we can wake up.
Again, I want everyone to know how personally sorry
I am. The whole world is feeling this. Sometimes we think only two countries are
involved, the U.S. and Afghanistan. But the whole world is involved. In Nepal,
on the 49th day after the tragedy (November 1 in Nepal, a full moon), we offered
2,000 candle lamps at the Great Stupa in Boudanath. I continue to do prayers.
Comments/Questions
Question:
I felt very sleepy after September 11. I felt very alone, then stuck and unable
to do things, like I was falling into a pit of depression. Four days ago, I was
able to start moving again.
Response from Rinpoche: This is very good. You
are coming back from this sleepiness very fast. You are healing quickly. Hopefully,
you will continue to be happy.
Question: It seems like individuals need different
amounts of time to wake up. How can we wake up without forcing it or going too
fast?
Response from Rinpoche: Yes, it's important not to fight the sleepiness,
not to push too hard. Thinking that one shouldn't have these thoughts doesn't
help it adds negative thoughts. If that happens, try to think about the situation
less and less. Give yourself space. Try to be open and compassionate with yourself
to wake up. If you're fighting with yourself, it's like your mind is split into
two with each part fighting.
Question: I feel a lot of anger toward the U.S.
now because of all the money spent on bombing Afghanistan when so many Afghani
refugees need food and shelter.
Response from Rinpoche: Consider that everyone
is thinking that they're doing the best activity. We probably can't stop everything.
If we can write letters, that's very good. As a person, we can each still do something.
But, if worry strikes again and again, that's not good. That creates unhappiness
in one's mind. If there's a chance to say something, that's a good option. Otherwise,
let the thought come up and let it go don't hold onto the negativity.
Question:
Practically, it comes to how to donate my $10. Should I give the money to Afghanistan
or to the monastery to help rebuild it?
Response from Rinpoche: Afghanistan
needs so much help now. There's so much suffering.
Question: How can I handle
the fear, fear of the unknown? The fear of what's going to happen to world. What's
the world going to be like in one year? Six months? Two years?
I'm not fearful
of more attacks, but how the world's going to reaction and how the world will
appear in the future? Will we be more united or separated? How can we be sure
that our diversity doesn't separate us?
Response from Rinpoche: Yes, there's
so much changing in the world. Many countries are used to this, but as a country,
the U.S. may not have felt such a large tragedy since World War II. Especially
the young people, they don't have experience of such change. All they know is
freedom. This may be the first time to hear and feel fear. There's a saying in
Tibet, that a spark on one's clothing makes one a bit sad, but when the spark
burns through to the skin, ouch! So now, in the U.S., the feeling, the pain, is
stronger. The tragedy really hit home. The spark has burned through to the skin.
I think it's going to be OK, though. All people are looking to find benefit now.
Question:
What if you find yourself in an immediate short-term situation of facing death?
You find yourself realizing the truth of impermanence. For example, I was on an
airplane the day before September 11 and realize that I could have been on one
of the fateful airplanes on September 11. I have a spiritual practice and still
wonder what thoughts should I have in this type of situation.
Response from
Rinpoche: Try not to have so much fear. Focus on your spiritual path and what's
dear to you, such as your family. Send love to your family. It's good if you don't
fear dying; you'll probably have an easier time when you die. If you're fearful
when facing death, it's important to decide to let go of what's in this life.
You must decide that now is my time to die. Now, death is my journey, so it's
time to focus on this journey. That will help you be more peaceful and comfortable.
The truth is that we will die. It's very helpful not to have fear.
Question:
How should I act when someone I know is dying?
Response from Rinpoche: It's
almost the same way as dealing with your own death. Understand that person is
dying; recognize that it's her time. There's nothing you can do to change that.
Focus on helping that person be happy and peaceful. Be gentle and compassionate
with your friend. These are such gifts. If you are far away and can't be present
with the person, send prayers and positive thoughts to the person. Keep your mind
clear and free of fear and worry.
Question: I'm a teacher working with 10-year
old children. How can I best help them with the events of September 11?
Response
from Rinpoche: Children can feel what the adults feel even without hearing comments.
Children don't seem to carry as much anger as adults, but they can have fear.
It's good for you, as a teacher, to respond to their questions in a calm way.
You can bring up the topic and gently explore the children's reactions to decide
whether to talk more or drop the subject. This gentle acknowledgment of the events
can help the children relax.
END
Transcribed and edited by Lesley Tinker
********************
Sharing
What You Love
An Interview with
Trudy Goodman
From the Spring 2004 Insight Journal of the Barre Center for
Buddhist Studies
Insight: Trudy, in addition to being a long-time dharma
practitioner and teacher, you are also a trained psychotherapist. What do you
think of the recent confluence of these two traditions?
Trudy: I'm interested
in the ways these two different traditions are already enriching one another.
For years now my colleages at IMP and I have been working with questions like,
"Can we put the dharma into the language of evidence-based psychology, or
psychoanalytic theory, without losing the spirit and intention of the ancient
teachings?" If we can use professional language and methods to integrate
the field of psychotherapy with the vast knowledge of conciousness arising from
Buddhist meditation, this will help people. And the good news for dharma teaching
is that, with the training in psychotherapy (or judicious referral to psychotherapists),
we have a much wider range of skillful means for meeting the deeply rooted emotional
obstacles people often encounter in their practice.
Which came first, dharma
or therapy?
In my life? It was always dharma first -- meditation -- and then
therapy. I never set out to do therapy initially. Already a dharma practioner
for some time, I found myself the director of a little nursery school at the Massachusetts
Mental Health Center. It was a lab school for the residents in child psychiatry,
and by being part of their regular seminars I was learning about how psychiatrists
looked at children
The psychiatrist who ran that seminar for the residents
invited me (and two friends) to start a school with him for severely emotionally
disturbed children in the greater Boston area. In the course of working with these
children I had to learn to do therapy, because they were wildly disturbed and
could not do nursery school activities with any sustained attention or cooperation.
We worked with the children no one else wanted. The had been kicked out of every
other child care program around.
It was while working with these children and
their families that I became interested in the emotional, affective life of people.
Before I that I was seeking to understand how humans know, and I had studied cognitive
development with Jean Piaget in Switzerland. I was looking for the dharma, really,
but didn't know where to look in those days. So I looked in the field of epistemology,
the study of how we know perception and reality, but I didn't find there what
I wanted to know. I couldn't name it at the time, but I was transfixed by the
mystery of consciousness.
Dr. Piaget was not much help here?
No, and that
was so disappointing. Piaget studied children as a means of understanding the
birth of intelligence, but his definition of intelligence was cognitive development,
not consciousness per se. He even said, "If I could interview prehistoric
man, (he did not say 'prehistoric people,') that's what I would do. But since
they are not available I have to study children." He believed that a child's
development recapitulated at the ontology of intelligence, and that he could somehow
go back in history by studying children and how their minds unfold as they learn.
He did want to know how they come to know things in reality, but his reason for
wanting to know was very different from mine. He was interested in learning about
the functioning of intelligence, but I had an eye out for something bigger that
I found missing in his program.
But I went on to learn a lot about the emotional
lives of children and families by working with multiplu-challenged inner-city
families, and by dealing with intensities of suffering and poverty that I couldn't
even imagine. It was incredible, right in Boston, people living in filth and crowding
and crazy loneliness. That was a whole other education. This is when I started
meditating and practicing dharma more intensively, when my first teacher came
to Cambridge and started a Zen Center.
The Zen model was pretty monastic in
those days, was it not?
My first teacher, Zen Master Seung Sahn, was a monk.
He urged people to become monks and nuns and, short of that, to live in the Zen
Center. That was his training and he believed in it. But I was a single mother
by then, and the Zen Centers were not particularly healthy place to raise a child
in those days. Most people were trying to be monastic, but they weren't really,
and most had little tolerance for kids.
I practiced for a few years in that
contextx and then met Kobun Chino Roshi and Maurine (Stuart, Roshi), who both
live a family life and understood how living together and raising children can
be a part of spiritual training. It affirmed what I knew from experience. I also
practiced vipassana [insight meditation] in the early years. This was before IMS
got started in Barre [in 1976]. The used to rent a place in Great Barrington,
and I sat vipassana, too, in those days.
I found out about the vipassana retreats
through my friend Jon Kabat-Zinn, who practiced Zen with me. He said "These
people can really sit!" So I went to see. After that I would go on retreats
whenever my circumstances allowed. Occasionally friends, or my parents would take
care of my daughter, or I would do trades with other single parents I trusted,
and we would help each other that way.
Were there any issues for you about
practicing in the two different traditions?
You know in those days, it was
no problem. My teacher Seung Sahn, Soen Sa Nim, encouraged my going to the retreats,
but said of the vipassana meditators, "They fall into emptiness. If you go
to a retreat with them, you will have more samadhi [concentration] on the retreat,
but when you come out it will be 'more worser'." And there was definitely
more samadhi in the retreats. But it was more difficult to return to ordinary
life when I came out -- the emphasis then was not on mindfulness in everyday life.
I would emerge in these profound stages, and everything would be an impingement
-- including my own child. I would be painfully sensitive for days.
Whereas
when I would sit at the urban Zen Center, in Providence, there would be people
with boom boxes walking outside, and neither the sitting nor the sessions were
long. You could never really sink in to any particular state. You'd be up and
down, up and down, working with a koan, meeting with the teacher. And when you
came home it seemed a more natural extension of that -- meeting with life's circumstances
as your teacher. But I learned things about stillness on the vipassana retreats
that I did not learn on those Zen retreats. There was no conflict. The teachings
seemed consistent and similar to me. Of course, the relationships with the teachers
was quite different, but neither would say you could not practice with the other.
Can
you say more, from your own experience, about some of the differences between
practicing vipassana and practicing zen?
I feel each has something to offer
that the other doesn't. The vipassana teachings were more accessible, in the sense
that there was a map you could follow. The instructions follow the four foundations
of mindfulness. You are given techniques for how not to get lost in your thoughts,
how to cultivate loving kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity, and for what
to do, rather, how to be in the sitting. You're not busy, busy, like in the Tibetan
tradition, but there is something to hang your mind-hat on. Especially with the
practice of noting and labeling, it's possible to connect mindfulness with named,
and accurately known, emotions that may have been repressed. This can be a profound
way to offer ourselves the acceptance we seek outside of ourselves -- being seen
and known completely, including psychologically. Vipassana has contributed in
this way. There are also very explicit dharma talks about what the Buddha actually
taught. So you hear about the four noble truths, the three characteristics, the
factors of enlightenment, and the eightfold path. The Buddhist way is liad out
in a very methodical and accessible manner, suffused with metta [lovingkindness].
Much
of that was missing in Zen. I was a Zen student for years, and we would sit intensively
and work with our teacher, but study was not much emphasized. What was valued
was looking into your own don't-know mind, your self, your life, the mystery of
it all. That was considered to be alive, and true. It was what I had been seeking
all my young life.
What I loved about Zen, and did not find in vipassana, was
an emphasis on direct experience, pure presence, the spontaneous expression of
the immediate moment. Now you are free! What do you do? Free to do what? How do
you manifest your understanding? The meetings with my teacher Mauring were like
that, too: "Okay, so you understand this. Now, what? What do you do? How
can you help? Show me!" That was always the emphasis.
With Zen you manifest
what you know by being it -- fully. If you are giving a dharma talk you don't
talk about the dharma. You sit in presence, body, breath, mind, fully present,
and you speak from that, moment-to-moment. It's not that you can't have an outline
of what you want to say, but you don't read a prepared talk. As Kobun Chino Roshi
said to me once, "Would you want to go around the table and eat the garbage
off everybody's plate when they were done eating?" I was taught that a prepared
talk is life leftovers, not fresh from the pot or the oven. This is a more challenging
way of teaching, less consistent sometimes, but it can carry great vitality. It
involves trusting our knowing at a seep level.
Another thing about the Zen
tradition I think is very useful is that you are working closely with the teacher.
Now, obviously, there are things that can go wrong in this close relationship,
but we are talking here about strengths, not weaknesses. The point is to have
that meeting be as unclouded as possible by expectation, longing for approval,
showing off -- all the things we habitually bring to our encounters with people.
There
is something remarkable about seeing and being seen by another, about being so
naked and clear and present. It's such an intimate acceptance. It almost takes
your breath away!! To come to that pure presence and see: It's just this! Nothing
else! Everything falls away! All your illusions, your idealizations, your longing
for love, your paranoia about your teacher not liking you, or finding you're not
enough -- all those projections just have to stop, at least for a moment!
In
Zen interviews you are facing this person sitting there in the power seat who
is the authority. Depending on the teacher, you find yourself trying to answer
an unanswerable question they've asked you, or you're trying to come up with something
to say or do that demonstrates your understanding, your willingness to be fully
present and open to what is. The Zen choreography is used to cultivate mindfullness
and try to dislodge people from their comfort zeon and encourage them to step
out of their mind-house and see what's there. It draws out whatever poisons come
up for you in intimate relationship. Whatever you are carrying will come up in
that situation.
When the teach is wise, balanced, b and mature, it can be an
unparalleled chance to trust someone and be completely without artifice or pretense.
In those moments you realize that your mind and your teacher's mind are just one
big mind that you are both inhabiting. You're not caught by the particularities
of anyone. To me, this sort of mind-to-mind direct transmission of understanding
is a huge strength of Zen.
And the teacher encounter in a vipassana retreat?
In
the beginning, the interviews were the least satisfying element of sitting vipassana.
I loved being on retreat, I loved the dharma talks, the long sitting and walking,
the stillness -- all of it, except for the interviews. I would go and talk about
my practice and then be told I was doing fine. I couldn't simply trust my teachers
then, as I learned to do when I returned to intensive vipassana retreats a dozen
years ago.
As a female, and I don't think this is unique, I had difficulty
trusting my own realization. It was difficult to trust that just hearing is enough,
just seeing, just tasting, just this thought, just this feeling in the body --
is enough. The mind likes to search for more, for something deeper... Although
the teaching is clear: "Zen mind is enough mind," Zen practice sometimes
reinforced a sense of never doing enough. I find that can be a beautiful spirit
if it keeps us from fixating and being complacent, or to understanding how the
way is infinite and there is always more to learn. But so often our fears inform
our beliefs, such as, whatever I'm doing can't possibly be it. So, if a teacher
tell you, "You're doing fine, just continue," You think, "Well,
he must not really know." (Laughter)
Have you worked recently with vipassana
teachers?
I have felt Joseph [Goldstein], Sharon [Salzber], Sarah [Doering]
and Jack [Kornfield]'s b caring and support for years now, and have benefited
hugely from the teaching -- and friendship -- of other vipassana teachers, too.
After the teacher retreat at the Forest Refuge at IMS last year, I stayed for
the month with Sayadaw U Pandita. U Pandita's commitment to sila [virtue] is palpable.
The
morning after he arrived at the retreat, there was a rainbow over the whole entrance
to the Forest Refuge. It was raining light. And when he walked in the meditation
hall that morning, it was like a wave of that fragrance just rolling into the
room. Such a wave of purity I felt in his presence, it made me cry. Being one
of the people hurt by unethical behavior, I can say: Sila is the best medicine!
We
are given a very clear protocol on what our report to the teacher was to include
and, especially, what it was not to include. The report was to focus primarily
on the rising and falling of the abdomen. We could name certain mind states, or
describe what the mind might be trying to do, but not in any way that was personally
indentified with the experience. For example, we could say "There was sadness
arising." But we would not say, "I got so sad because..." We were
given strict instructions on how to report most clearly to the Sayadaws, and that
is all they would talk to us about.
It was a matter of using impersonal language,
speaking without the identification 'I', 'me', 'mine', and focusing on a very
tiny segment of experience. But we know reality is holographic. If you focus on
any one piece and bring all of your attention to it, you are going to discover
the dharma truths that are universal. So you might be just looking at rising and
falling, for example; but you're going to start experiencing just pulsations,
and then you're going to start seeing how some disappear and others take their
place, and then you're going to start having your focus on how they disappear
all together as soon as they are perceived. Through the microcosm of the rising
and falling and the sensations that accompany that -- because that's what you're
reporting and focusing on -- you actually come to experience their true nature.
And yet, to learn in this way, you are leaving out huge amount of your life and
your experience.
Does this kind of precisely concentrated mindfulness play
any role in therapy, where you also track and report on experience?
The level
of concentration is different outside of retreat. But the more care and attentiveness
the partnership of the therapist/client can bring to exploring experience, the
more compassion and connection there will be. And then people begin to trust their
own capacity to slow into experience and see what's there. Noting, labeling the
felt sense of things, can help there too.
Both as a dharma teacher and as a
therapist, I am passionate about awareness and have empathy for who we are in
all our manifestations! We have all seen what happens when people compartmentalize
parts of their lives. When we disavow and deny aspects of who we are by projecting
them on to an enemy, or try to be a 'spiritual' person, we wind up at the mercy
of the very forces we reject, without the protection of mindfulness and compassion.
I think the best way for us to learn to live in peace with each other is to be
able to know that, with a little mindfulness and metta and karuna [compassion],
all the different parts of who we are -- even the crazy parts -- can peacefully
coexist in our own hearts.
To wake up, to be fully alive, most of us have to
include the wider range of emotional experience along with body-based, sensation-based
awareness. High levels of energy and aliveness come through the emotions when
they are approached skillfully and can transform into wisdom. I say transform,
rather than be transformed, because it's something that just happens when we are
willing to be present and trust our experience. And having the wise company of
a skilled therapist (or teacher) can help people find the courage and strength
to trust even their painful losses as truth.
Discovering how to do that came
from practicing with my own intense suffering. We can find what lies on the other
side of suffering -- what's left when you've had insight into how you came to
be this way through your parents being the way there were, in part because your
grandparents brought them up this way, and their parents' lives were this way,
and so on. The view of human life gets very, very big. Bigger than you or me or
them! And what's naturally left when our suffering falls away? A vast peace and
freedom that has always been there.
Might this be one of the ways these traditions
of Zen and vipassana are complementary?
Everything is complementary for me.
I don't get into conflicts or confusion with different practices, because I can
see how they're all expressing dharmic truth. I spent two years studying Vajrayana
Buddhism, doing ngondro practices, doing a Dzogchen retreat in the mountain jungles
of Bhutan, then continuing to practice in India for a couple of months in Bodh-Gaya,
doing prostrations at the stupa. I could see that each practice was just drawing
on different paramis [moral perfections] and developing different qualities. And
they were all so clearly and deeply rooted in the dharma, in the teachings of
the Buddha. They were just coming at it from different upaya [skillful means].
It seems to me it is the creativity of human culture developing all of these skilful
means of waking up and expressing our gratitude and love of life. Such an abundance
of imagination, creativity, and cultural diversity! 50 ways to love the dharma!
Thank you India, Korea, Japan, China, Burma, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Tibet, Bhutan!
United States, Switzerland, France, England, Thank you too!
What about the
differing notions of selfhood and identity, East and West?
There is a lot of
conversation about this. It gets confusing for the therapists when they hear "no
self." Then people start talking about "no self" or "emptiness"
as if they were things, reified (thing-afied) experiences. There is also a lot
of confusion in dharma circles about therapy. Many people jump on Freud's phrase
about returning his patients to ordinary human unhappiness, and view therapy as
simply a way of adjusting to dukkha [suffering] without much spiritual value.
I
remember hearing a Rinpoche [Tibetan Buddhist teacher] at a conference on psychotherapy
and Buddhism in the early eighties say in his opening talk to an assembly of professionals
something like, "I suppose some poor, unfortunate individuals might need
some psychotherapy before they can practice dharma." That was his understanding
of what we were doing. So there are misunderstandings on both sides.
In my
experience, there are places in practice where personality is uncovered as illusory
and unnecessary. These insights can be vivid and on-going if you are on a retreat,
and maybe for some people they are on-going when not on retreat. Some of those
dimensions of experience are not ordinarily accessible through psychotherapy,
and they're not usually accessible to psychotherapists unless they've practiced.
How
do you feel about combining the professions of dharma teachers and psychotherapists?
You
see alot of dharma teachers who become therapists, and some are not necessarily
well trained as therapists. And there are therapists who learn dharma, but then
continue to think in therapy terms. Not everyone makes the shift.
For me beginning
to teach dharma was very humbling, because I realized it wasn't about me. It was
really about just performing a service. People need to hear the dharma, for the
same reasons I did. It saved my life over and over. If you've been blessed with
being given the chance to practice a bit and work usefully with suffering, it
is a service to pass on the teachings about how to do this to others.
I don't
think I have a b teacher identity. I've seen too many hurtful things arise out
of that, so I'm really careful. I think of myself like a French teacher or a piano
teacher. I have a way of being with people (and myself) that I've practiced a
lot because it's something I love. And if you share what you love, it's contagious.
People can catch that spark. And it's profoundly healing to love you life; this
is where the two paths intersect for me.
What brought you from Cambridge, Massachusetts,
where you lived for so many years, to Los Angeles?
I left Cambridge after a
tough divorce that tore away deeply rooted illusions I'd had for years. It felt
like dying, and I had to jump into the unknown and live a gypsy life on the dharma
trail for a few years.
I landed in Los Angeles for family reasons. My elderly
mom lives there, and needed help in a way that she hadn't before. She is showing
me what it is to be old. It truly is a different stage of development, with its
own cognition and ways of perceiving things. It's not just rhythm and pace that
slow down; there are also subtle changes in perception. Understanding this has
allowed me to be patient with her in ways that did not come easily at all. She
wasn't a very patient parent, and I wasn't a very patient daughter. She has sweetened
and mellowed, and only speaks her gratitude and support now. I just can't imagine
living far away from her during these years. I'm learning a different kind of
love, her dharma of old age.
My daughter also lives in the area, and got pregnant
before I went to India. She had been off on her own quite happily for a long time,
but wanted me nearby because of the baby. I was in transition in my life, so I
thought I would spend a little time while the baby is young and help my daughter.
But I fell in love, head over heels, with that child, and did not want to live
far away from her. She is almost three now, and she has a new baby brother! So
my family life now turns around the evolving relationship with my mother, siblings,
daughter, and watching my grandchildren grow.
So you are fully embedded in
the life of a householder now?
Oh no! I'm in it, but not of it -- that's the
beauty of being a grandparent. When I came to LA a teacher said to me, "Well,
being so involved with your family is going to be very bad for your spiritual
life." I knew what he meant, because I was always getting triggered by my
family. I felt a lot more kilesas [imperfections], such as impatience and aversion.
Yet
I began to think, "Wait a minute, what is this practice if it doesn't work
around my family of origin? Isn't that a training ground? Don't they push my buttons
the most? Why do I have to go a monastery to seek out situations that push my
buttons? I have them right here: endless changes to cultivate my least favorite
virtue, patience! Countless opportunities for renunciation! It's been very humbling,
like going backwards in time and bringing the practice to ancient family dynamics
that I'd been able to bypass for a long time.
So how did you get started teaching
in LA?
Out of appreciation for the intensity of my own family path, I started
Growing Spirit, a family practice program in LA that meets once and a while on
Sunday mornings. We sit, and the kids do meditations that are geared towards kids
and play. In my new life, I just created a practice situation I knew to be valuable
and offered it to the community. We started with two people and now have a regular
Thursday sitting group, monthly retreats, weekly classes, visiting teachers, and
a growing sangha: Insight LA.
I'm truly grateful to the people in Los Angeles
who have come to sit with me. They are so devoted to waking up and being compassionate
in this life, caring about each other and the dharma. When I talk about what's
happening with Insight LA, I immediately think of them. They are, we are, what's
happening with Insight LA.
*********************
The
Appeal of Buddhism in the Modern World
Singapore
August 10, 1988
Revised excerpt from Berzin, Alexander and Chodron, Thubten.
Glimpse of Reality.
Singapore: Amitabha Buddhist Centre, 1999.
Question:
This year you have been on a teaching tour to twenty-six countries. Please share
with us your observations of how Buddhism is spreading to new places.
Answer:
Buddhism is spreading rapidly around the world now. There are Buddhist centers
in many European countries, North America, South America, South Africa, Australasia,
and so on. We find Buddhists in Europe not only in the Western capitalist countries,
but also in the socialist countries of the East. For example, Poland has about
five thousand active Buddhists.
Buddhism appeals very much to the modern world
because it is reasonable and scientifically based. Buddha said, "Do not believe
in anything that I say just out of respect for me, but test it for yourself, analyze
it, as if you were buying gold." Modern-day people like such a nondogmatic
approach.
There are many dialogues between scientists and Buddhist leaders,
such as His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Together they are discussing and investigating
what is reality. Buddha said that all problems come from not understanding reality,
from being confused in this regard. If we were aware of who we are and how the
world and we exist, we would not create problems out of our confusion. Buddhism
has an extremely open attitude in examining what is true. For example, His Holiness
the Dalai Lama has said that if scientists can prove that something Buddha or
his followers taught is incorrect or just superstition, he would be happy and
willing to drop it from Buddhism. Such an approach is very attractive to Western
people.
Since learned masters of the past have adapted Buddhism to the culture
of each society to which it has spread, it is only natural that teachers today
need to present Buddhism in different modern countries in slightly different ways.
In general, Buddhism emphasizes a rational explanation. Within this context, however,
different points and approaches need more emphasis depending on predominant cultural
traits.
Buddha taught such a variety of methods, simply because people very
so much. Not everyone thinks in the same way. Consider the example of food. If
there were only one type of food available in a city, it would not appeal to everyone.
If, on the other hand, different foods could be had with varied flavors, everyone
could find something appealing. Likewise, Buddha taught a large variety of methods
for people with a wide spectrum of tastes to use to develop themselves and grow.
After all, the objective of Buddhism is to overcome all our limitations and problems
and to realize all our potentials so that we can develop ourselves to the point
at which we can help everyone as much as is possible.
In some Western countries
that emphasize psychology, such as Switzerland and the United States, teachers
usually present Buddhism from the point of view of psychology. In other countries
where people prefer a devotional approach, such as many Southern European lands
and in Latin America, teachers tend to present Buddhism in a devotional manner.
People there like to chant very much, and one can do that in Buddhist practice.
People in Northern European countries, however, do not enjoy chanting as much.
Teachers tend to emphasize an intellectual approach to Buddhism there.
Many
people in Eastern Europe are in a very sad situation. The Buddhist teachings appeal
to them greatly because many find their lives empty. Whether they work hard at
their jobs or not seems to make no difference. They see no results. Buddhism,
in contrast, teaches them methods for working on themselves, which do bring results
that make a difference in the qualities of their lives. This makes people unbelievably
appreciative and enthusiastic to throw themselves fully into practices such as
making thousands of prostrations.
In this way, Buddhism adapts itself to the
culture and the mentality of the people in each society, while preserving the
major teachings of Buddha. The principal teachings are not changed -- the aim
is to overcome our problems and limitations and to realize our potentials. Whether
practitioners do this with more emphasis on the psychological, intellectual, scientific,
or devotional approach depends on the culture.
Question: How is Buddhism adapting
to the twentieth century in general?
Answer: Buddhism is adapting by emphasizing
a rational scientific approach to its teachings. Buddhism gives a clear explanation
of how life's experiences come about and how to deal with them in the best manner
possible. Then it says do not accept anything on blind faith; think for yourself,
test it out and see if it actually does make sense. This resembles science asking
us to verify the results of an experiment by repeating it ourselves, and only
then to accept the results as fact. Modern people do not like buying something
without examining it; they would not buy a car without testing it. Likewise, they
will not turn to another religion or philosophy of life without checking it first
to see if it really makes sense. That is what makes Buddhism so appealing to many
people of the twentieth century. Buddhism is open to scientific investigation
and invites people to examine it in that way.
*********************
The
reason we practice meditation
By
The Venerable Thrangu Rinpoche
In
the spread of Buddhism in America, the Kagyu lineage was in the forefront of the
sending of lamas to America. Of these lamas, the three great progenitors of the
dharma in America were His Holiness the Gyalwa Karmapa, His Eminence Kalu Rinpoche,
and the Vidyadhara Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. It was very unfortunate that in the
1980s we lost all of these great beings, but in the aftermath, there were a number
of remarkable lamas in the lineage who stepped forward to fill their places and
to bring great benefit to sentient beings. Amongst these, in the forefront of
them, was The Very Venerable Khenchen Thrangu Rinpoche, abbot by appointment of
His Holiness Karmapa of Rumtek Monastery in Sikkim. He is also abbot of his own
monasteries in Nepal and Tibet, and by appointment of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche,
of Gampo Abbey in Nova Scotia. In addition he has been very generous and kind
to Western students, teaching the dharma extensively in retreats and seminars
throughout the world. Rinpoche taught in Seattle for the first time in May 1996.
This transcript is from his teachings the evening of May 24.
I'd like to begin
by welcoming all of you here tonight. I recognize that you've come here out of
your sincere interest in, and wish to practice, genuine dharma, and out of your
respect for my teaching. And this is all delightful to me, and I thank you for
it. I consider myself fortunate to have such an opportunity to form such a connection
with you. To begin, I would like to recite a traditional supplication to the teachers
of my lineage, and while doing so, I invite you to join me in an attitude of confidence
and devotion. (Chants)
The essence of the buddhadharma, the teachings of the
Buddha, is practice. And when we say practice, we mean the practice of meditation,
which can consist of either the meditation known as tranquillity or that known
as insight. But in either case, it must be implemented in actual practice. The
reason we practice meditation is to attain happiness. And this means states of
happiness in both the short term and the long term. With regard to short-term
happiness, when we speak of happiness, we usually mean either or both of two things,
one of which is physical pleasure and the other of which is mental pleasure. But
if you look at either of these pleasant experiences, the root of either one has
to be a mind that is at peace, a mind that is free of suffering. Because as long
as your mind is unhappy and without any kind of tranquillity or peace, then no
matter how much physical pleasure you experience, it will not take the form of
happiness per se. On the other hand, even if you lack the utmost ideal physical
circumstances of wealth and so on, if your mind is at peace, you will be happy
anyway.
We practice meditation, therefore, in part in order to obtain the
short-term benefit of a state of mental happiness and peace. Now, the reason why
meditation helps with this is that, normally, we have a great deal of thought,
or many different kinds of thoughts running through our minds. And some of these
thoughts are pleasant, even delightful. Some of them however, are unpleasant,
agitating, and worrisome. Now, if you examine the thoughts that are present in
your mind from time to time, you will see that the pleasant thoughts are comparatively
few, and the unpleasant thoughts are many - which means that as long as your mind
is ruled or controlled by the thoughts that pass through it, you will be quite
unhappy. In order to gain control over this process, therefore, we begin with
the meditation practice of tranquillity, which produces a basic state of contentment
and peace within the mind of the practitioner.
An example of this is the great
Tibetan yogi Jetsun Milarepa, who lived in conditions of the utmost austerity.
He lived it utter solitude, in caves and isolated mountains. His clothes were
very poor; he had no nice clothes. His food was neither rich nor tasty. In fact,
[for a number of years] he lived on nettle soup alone, as a result of which he
became physically very thin, almost emaciated. Now, if you consider his external
circumstances alone, the isolation and poverty in which he lived, you would think
he must have been miserable. And yet, as we can tell from the many songs he composed,
because his mind was fundamentally at peace, his experience was one of constant
unfolding delight. His songs are songs that express the utmost state of delight
or rapture. He saw every place he went to, no matter how isolated and austere
an environment it was, as beautiful, and he experienced his life of utmost austerity
as extremely pleasant.
In fact, the short-term benefits of meditation are
more than merely peace of mind, because our physical health as well depends, to
a great extent, upon our state of mind. And therefore, if you cultivate this state
of mental contentment and peace, then you will tend not to become ill, and you
will as well tend to heal easily if and when you do become ill. The reason for
this is that one of the primary conditions which brings about states of illness
is mental agitation, which produces a corresponding agitation or disturbance of
the channels and the energies within your body. These generate new sicknesses,
ones you have not yet experienced, and also prevent the healing of old sicknesses.
This agitation of the channels and winds or energies also obstructs the benefit
which could be derived from medical treatment. If you practice meditation, then
as your mind settles down, the channels and energies moving through the channels
return to their rightful functioning, as a result of which you tend not to become
ill and you are able to heal any illnesses you already have. And we can see an
illustration of this also in the life of Jetsun Milarepa, who engaged in the utmost
austerities with regard to where he lived, the clothes he wore, the food he ate,
and so on, throughout the early part of his life. And yet this did not harm his
health, because he managed to have a very long life, was extremely vigorous and
youthful to the end of his life, which indicates the fact that through the proper
practice of meditation, the mental peace and contentment that is generated calms
down or corrects the functioning of the channels and energies, allowing for the
healing of sickness and the prevention of sickness.
The ultimate or long-term
benefit of the practice of meditation is becoming free of all suffering, which
means no longer having to experience the sufferings of birth, aging, sickness
and death. Now, this attainment of freedom is called, in the common language of
all the Buddhist traditions, buddhahood, and in the particular terminology of
the vajrayana, the supreme attainment, or supreme siddhi. In any case, the root
or basic cause of this attainment is the practice of meditation. The reason for
this is, again, that generally we have a lot of thoughts running through our minds,
some of which are beneficial - thoughts of love, compassion, rejoicing in the
happiness of others, and so on - and many of which are negative - thoughts of
attachment, aversion, jealousy, competitiveness, and so on. Now, there are comparatively
few of the former type of thought and comparatively many of the latter type of
thought, because we have such strong habits that have been accumulating within
us over a period of time without beginning. And it's only by removing these habits
of negativity that we can free ourselves from suffering.
You cannot simply
remove these mental afflictions, or kleshas, by saying to yourself, "I will
not generate any more mental affliction," because you do not have the necessary
freedom of mind or control over the kleshas to do so. In order to relinquish these,
you need to actually attain this freedom, which begins, according to the common
path, with the cultivation of tranquillity. Now, when you begin to meditate, [when]
you begin to practice the basic meditation of tranquillity meditation, you may
find that your mind won't stay still for a moment. But this is not permanent.
This will change as you practice, and you will eventually be able to place your
mind at rest at will, at which point you have successfully alleviated the manifest
disturbance of these mental afflictions or kleshas. On the basis of that, then
you can apply the second technique, which is called insight, which consists of
learning to recognize and directly experience the nature of your own mind. This
nature is referred to as emptiness. When you recognize this nature and rest in
it, then all of the kleshas, all of the mental afflictions that arise, dissolve
into this emptiness, and are no longer afflictions. Therefore, the freedom, or
result, which is called buddhahood, depends upon the eradication of these mental
afflictions, and that depends upon the practice of meditation.
The practice
of tranquillity and insight is the general path which is common to both the paths
of sutra and tantra. In the specific context which is particular to the vajrayana,
the main techniques are called the generation stage and the completion stage.
These two techniques are extremely powerful and effective. Generation stage refers
to the visualization of, for example, the form of a lineage guru, the form of
a deity or yidam, or the form of a dharma protector. Now, initially, when first
encountering this technique, it's not uncommon for beginners to think, what is
the point of this? Well, the point of this is that we support and confirm our
ignorance and suffering and our kleshas through the constant generation of impure
projections or impure appearances which make up our experience of samsara. And
in order to transcend this process, we need to transcend these impure projections,
together with the suffering that they bring about. A very effective way to do
this is to replace these gradually, replace these projections of impurity with
pure projections based on the iconography of the yidam, the dharmapala, and so
on. By starting to experience the world as the mandala of the deity and all beings
as the presence of that deity, then you gradually train yourself to let go of
mental afflictions, let go of impure projections, and you create the environment
for the natural manifestation of your own innate wisdom.
Now, all of this
occurs gradually through this practice of the generation stage. The actual deities
who are used can vary in appearance. Some of them are peaceful and some of them
are wrathful. In general, the iconography of the wrathful deities points out the
innate power of wisdom, and that of the peaceful deities the qualities of loving-kindness
and compassion. Also, there are male deities and female deities. The male deities
embody the method or compassion, and the female deities embody intelligence or
wisdom.
For these reasons, it's appropriate to perform these practices of
meditation upon deities. And because these practices are so prevalent in our tradition,
if you go into a vajrayana practice place or temple, you will probably see lots
of images of deities - peaceful deities, wrathful deities, and extraordinarily
wrathful deities. And you'll see lots of shrines with some very eccentric offerings
on them. Initially, if you're not used to all this, you might think, "What
is all this?" And you might feel, "Well, the basic practices of tranquility
and insight make a lot of sense, and are very interesting; and all these deities,
all these rituals, and all these eccentric musical instruments are really not
very interesting at all." However, each and every aspect of the iconography,
and each and every implement you find in a shrine room, is there for a very specific
reason. The reason in general is that we need to train ourselves to replace our
projection of impurity or negativity with a projection or experience of purity.
And you can't simply fake this, you can't simply talk yourself into this, because
you're trying to replace something that is deeper than a concept. It's more like
a feeling. So, therefore, in the technique by which you replace it, a great deal
of feeling or experience of the energy of purity has to be actually generated,
and in order to generate that, we use physical representations of offerings, we
use musical instruments in order to inspire the feeling of purity, and so on.
In short, all of these implements are useful in actually generating the experience
of purity.
That is the first of the two techniques of vajrayana practice,
the generation stage. The second technique is called the completion stage, and
it consists of a variety of related techniques, of which perhaps the most important
and the best known are mahamudra and dzogchen or "The Great Perfection."
Now, sometimes, it seems to be presented that dzogchen is more important, and
at other times it seems to be presented that mahamudra is more important, and
as a result people become a little bit confused about this and are unsure which
tradition or which practice they should pursue. Ultimately, the practices in essence
and in their result are the same. In fact, each of them has a variety of techniques
within it. For example, within mahamudra practice alone, there are many methods
which can be used, such as candali (see footnote) and so forth, and within the
practice of dzogchen alone there are as well many methods, such as the cultivation
of primordial purity, spontaneous presence, and so on. But ultimately, mahamudra
practice is always presented as guidance on or an introduction to your mind, and
dzogchen practice is always presented as guidance or introduction to your mind.
Which means that the root of these is no different, and the practice of either
mahamudra or dzogchen will generate a great benefit. Further, we find in The Aspiration
of Mahamudra by the third Gyalwa Karmapa, Lord Rangjung Dorje, the following stanza:
It does not exist, and has not been seen, even by the Victors.
It is not
non-existent, it is the basis of all Samsara and Nirvana.
This is not contradictory,
but is the great Middle Way.
May I come to see the nature which is beyond
elaboration.
And that is from the mahamudra tradition. Then, in The Aspiration
for the Realization of the Nature of the Great Perfection by the omniscient Jigme
Lingpa, an aspiration liturgy from the dzogchen tradition, we find the following
stanza:
It does not exist, it has not been seen, even by the Victors.
It
is not non-existent, it is the basis of all Samsara and Nirvana.
It is not
contradictory, it is the great Middle Way.
May I come to recognize dzogpa
chenpo, the nature of the ground.
In other words, these two traditions are
concerned entirely with the recognition of the same nature.
So both short-term
and ultimate happiness depend on the cultivation of meditation, which from the
common point of view of the sutras (the point of view held in common by all tradition
of Buddhism) is tranquillity and insight, and from the uncommon point of view
of the vajrayana is the generation and completion stages.
Meditation, however,
depends in part upon the generation of loving-kindness and compassion. And this
is true of any meditation, but it is especially most true of vajrayana meditation.
The reason is that the specific vajrayana practices - the visualization of deities
or meditation upon mahamudra and so on - depend upon the presence of a pure motivation
on the part of the practitioner from the very start. If this pure motivation or
genuine motivation is not present - and, since we're ordinary people, its quite
possible that it might not be present - not much benefit will really occur. For
that reason, vajrayana practitioners always try to train their motivation, and
try to develop the motivation that's known as the awakened mind, or bodhicitta.
Now, as an indication of this, if you look at the liturgies used in vajrayana
practice, you'll see that the long and extensive forms of vajrayana liturgies
always begin with a clarification of, or meditation upon, bodhicitta, and that
even the short and shortest liturgies always begin with a meditation upon bodhicitta,
loving-kindness and compassion, the point of this being that this type of motivation
is necessary for all meditation, but especially for vajrayana practice.
The
only real meaning that we can give to our being born on this planet - and in particular
being born as human beings on this planet - and the only really meaningful result
that we can show for our lives is to have helped the world: to have helped our
friends, to have helped all the beings on this planet as much as we can. And if
we devote our lives or any significant part of our lives to destroying others
and harming others, then to the extent that we actually do so, our lives have
been meaningless. So if you understand that the only real point of a human life
is to help others, to benefit others, to improve the world, then you must understand
that the basis of not harming others but benefiting others is having the intention
not to harm others and the intention to benefit others.
Now, the main cause
of having such a stable intention or stable motivation is the actual cultivation
of love and compassion for others. Which means, when you find yourself full of
spite and viciousness - and it is not abnormal to be so - then you have to recognize
it, and be aware of it as what it is, and let go of it. And then, even though
you may be free of spite or viciousness, and you may have the wish to improve
things, you may be thinking only of yourself; you may be thinking only of helping
or benefiting yourself. When that's the case, then you have to recollect that
the root of that type of mentality, which is quite petty and limited and tight,
is desiring victory for yourself even at the expense of the suffering and loss
experienced by others. And, in that case, you have to gradually expand your sympathy
for others, and therefore this cultivation of bodhicitta or altruism in general
as a motivation is an essential way of making your life meaningful.
The importance
of love and compassion is not an idea that is particular to Buddhism. Everyone
throughout the world talks about the importance of love and compassion. There's
no one who says love and compassion are bad and we should try and get rid of them.
However, there is an uncommon element in the method or approach which is taken
to these by Buddhism. In general, when we think of compassion, we think of a natural
or spontaneous sympathy or empathy which we experience when we perceive the suffering
of someone else. And we generally think of compassion as being a state of pain,
of sadness, because you see the suffering of someone else and you see what's causing
that suffering and you know you can't do anything to remove the cause of that
suffering and therefore the suffering itself. So, whereas before you generated
compassion, one person was miserable, and after you generate compassion, two people
are miserable. And this actually happens.
However, the approach (that the
Buddhist tradition takes) to compassion is a little bit different, because it's
founded on the recognition that, whether or not you can benefit that being or
that person in their immediate situation and circumstances, you can generate the
basis for their ultimate benefit. And the confidence in that removes the frustration
or the misery which otherwise somehow afflicts ordinary compassion. So, when compassion
is cultivated in that way, it is experienced as delightful rather than miserable.
The way that we cultivate compassion is called immeasurable compassion. And,
in fact, to be precise, there are four aspects of what we would, in general, call
compassion, that are called, therefore, the four immeasurables. Now, normally,
when we think of something that's called immeasurable, we mean immeasurably vast.
Here, the primary connotation of the term is not vastness but impartiality. And
the point of saying immeasurable compassion is compassion that is not going to
help one person at the expense of hurting another. It is a compassion that is
felt equally for all beings. The basis of the generation of such an impartial
compassion is the recognition of the fact that all beings without exception really
want and don't want the same things. All beings, without exception, want to be
happy and want to avoid suffering. There is no being anywhere who really wants
to suffer. And if you understand that, and to the extent that you understand that,
you will have the intense wish that all beings be free from suffering. And there
is no being anywhere who does not want to be happy; and if you understand that,
and to the extent that you understand that, you will have the intense wish that
all beings actually achieve the happiness that they wish to achieve. Now, because
the experience of happiness and freedom from suffering depend upon the generation
of the causes of these, then the actual form your aspiration takes is that all
beings possess not only happiness but the causes of happiness, that they not only
be free of suffering but of the causes of suffering.
The causes of suffering
are fundamentally the presence in our minds of mental afflictions - ignorance,
attachment, aversion, jealousy, arrogance, and so on - and it is through the existence
of these that we come to suffer. Now, through recognizing that there is a way
to transcend these causes of suffering - fundamentally, through the eradication
of these causes through practicing meditation, which may or may not happen immediately
but is a definite and workable process - through this confidence, then this love
- wishing beings to be happy - and the compassion of wishing beings to be free
from suffering, is not hopeless or frustrated at all. And, therefore, the boundless
love and boundless compassion generate a boundless joy that is based on the confidence
that you can actually help beings free themselves.
So boundless love is the
aspiration that beings possess happiness and the causes of happiness. Boundless
compassion or immeasurable compassion is the aspiration that beings be free of
suffering and the causes of suffering. And the actual confidence and the delight
you take in the confidence that you can actually bring these about is boundless
joy. Now, because all of these are boundless or immeasurable or impartial, then
they all have a quality, which is equanimity. Which is to say that if these are
cultivated properly, you don't have compassion for one being but none for another
, and so on. Now, normally, when we experience these qualities, of course, they
are partial; they are anything but impartial. In order to eradicate the fixation
that causes us to experience compassion only for some and not for others, then
you can actually train yourself in cultivating equanimity for beings through recognizing
that they all wish for the same thing and wish to avoid the same thing, and through
doing so you can greatly increase or enhance your loving-kindness and compassion.
This has been a brief introduction to the practice of meditation, and how
to train in and generate compassion. If you have any questions, please ask them.
Question: Rinpoche, can you speak a little bit about the difference between
pure projection and impure projection, and in particular, where do pure projections
actually come from?
Rinpoche: First of all, impure projections are how we
experience because of the presence in our minds of kleshas or mental afflictions.
Because we have kleshas, then we experience friend and enemy - that to which we
are attached and that towards which we have aversion - we experience delight and
disgust and so on. And all of these ways we experience the world - all these ways
we experience are fundamentally tinged with, at least tinged with unpleasantness.
Now, what is called pure appearance or pure projection is based on the experience
of the true nature or essential purity of what, in confusion, we experience to
be five types of mental affliction, or the five kleshas. The true nature of these
five kleshas is what are called the five wisdoms. For example, when you let go
of fixation or obsession on a self, or with yourself, then the fundamental nature
of the way you experience is a sameness, a lack of preference or partiality, which
is called the wisdom of sameness. And, when you recognize the nature of all things,
then that recognition which pervades or fills all of your experience is called
the wisdom of the dharmadhatu. And so on.
Now, when you experience the five
wisdoms rather than the five kleshas or five mental afflictions, then instead
of projecting all of the impurity which you project on the basis of experiencing
the kleshas, you project purity, or you experience purity, which is the actual
manifestation of these five wisdoms as realms, as forms of buddhas, and these
are what are called the pure appearances which are experienced by bodhisattvas
and so forth. Now, in order to approach this, in order to cultivate the experience
of these wisdoms and the external experiences which go along with the experience
of these wisdoms, we meditate upon the bodies of these buddhas, the realms, palaces
and so on. By generating clarity of these visualized appearances and stabilizing
that, then gradually we transform how we experience the world.
Question: In
practicing compassion, there's the practice of tonglen, which is the sending and
receiving, taking the suffering from all sentient beings and giving them the happiness
and merit that we have. And, in this practice, I've practiced it before, and it
seems to go well for a while, but then there's a subtle sense of "I"
that creeps in that says, "I don't really want to take the suffering,"
or its, "I can't deal with too many people having cancer, I just can't take
it all on myself," and so one kind of loses a little courage in the practice.
So, could you illuminate us on this practice, and how to overcome these obstacles
and really develop heroic mind?
Rinpoche: What you say is very true, especially
in the beginning of undertaking this practice. And, in fact, its okay that it
be experienced that way. Even though there is a quality of faking it about the
degree to which you actually really are ready to take on the suffering of others
in the beginning, there's still benefit in doing the practice, because up until
you begin this practice, you've probably been entirely selfish. And, to even attempt
to fake altruism is a tremendous improvement. But it doesn't remain insincere
like that, because eventually the habit starts to deepen and starts to counteract
the habit of selfishness.
Now if, when you began practicing tonglen, you already
had one hundred per cent concern with the welfare of others and no concern for
your own welfare, then you wouldn't need to practice tonglen in the first place.
So, it is designed to work for a practitioner who's starting from a place of selfishness
and to lead them into this place of concern for others. And, gradually, by using
the practice, you will actually cultivate the sincere desire to take suffering
away from others and experience it yourself; you will cultivate real love and
compassion for others. But on the other hand, you don't really do the practice
in order to be able to, at that moment, take on the suffering of others and experience
it yourself; you're really doing it in order to train the mind. And by training
your mind and developing the motivation and the actual wish to free others from
suffering, then the long-term result is that you have the ability to directly
dispel the suffering of others.
Question: Rinpoche, you said that we may not
be able to - one person may not be able to directly affect or remove short-term
unhappiness or suffering of another person, but that we can learn to generate
the basis of another's happiness, ultimate happiness. So could you say more, please,
about how one person can generate the basis of ultimate happiness for another
person?
Rinpoche: Well, the direct basis of establishing another being in
a state of freedom or happiness, long-term or ultimate happiness, is being able
to show them how to get rid of their mental afflictions and to teach them how
to recognize and therefore abandon causes of suffering. And, through doing so
in that way, then you can establish them gradually in ultimate happiness. But
even in cases where you can't, for whatever reason, do that, by having the intention
to benefit that being, then when you yourself become fully free, then you will
be able to actually help them and gradually free and protect them as well.
Question:
Rinpoche, can you say a little more about the practice of letting go when the
mind is agitated, as you described, as used in mahamudra and dzogchen? I experience
my mind when I sit as being agitated. And there's the practice of letting go.
And I'm wondering if you can just say more about that in a practical way?
Rinpoche:
In general, the main approach that is taken in the mahamudra and dzogchen traditions
is applied when you are looking at the nature of your mind. Now, kleshas or mental
afflictions are thoughts, and thoughts are the natural display of the mind. Thoughts
may be pleasant, neutral, or unpleasant, they may be positive or negative, but
in any case, whatever type of thought arises, you deal with it in exactly the
same way. You simply look directly at it.
Now, looking at the thought, or
looking into the thought, or looking at the nature of the thought, is quite different
from analyzing it. You don't attempt to analyze the contents of the thought, nor
do you attempt to think about the thought. You just simply look directly at it.
And when you look directly at a thought, you don't find anything. Now, you may
think that you don't find anything because you don't know how to look or you don't
know where to look, but in fact, that's not the reason. The reason, according
to Buddha, is that thoughts are empty. And this is the basic meaning of all the
various teachings on emptiness he gave, such as the sixteen emptinesses and so
on.
Now, to use anger as an example of this, if you become angry, and then
you look directly at the anger - which doesn't mean analyze the contents of the
thoughts of anger, but you look directly at that specific thought of anger - then
you won't find anything. And, in that moment of not finding anything, the poisonous
quality of the anger will somehow vanish or dissolve. Your mind will relax, and
you will, at least to some extent, be free of anger.
Now, you may or may not,
at this point, understand this, but in any case, you'll have opportunity to work
with this approach tomorrow and the next day, and over the next couple of days
you may come to have some experience of this.
So, we're going to conclude
now with a brief dedication. But I would also like to thank you for demonstrating
your great interest in dharma, and listening and asking questions.
footnote:
gtum-mo in Tibetan, meaning fierce or wrathful and referring to a kind of psychic
heat generated and experienced through certain meditative practices of the vajrayana.
This heat serves to burn up all types of obstacles and confusion. Included in
the Six Doctrines of Naropa, the Six Doctrines of Niguma, and the Six Doctrines
of Sukhasiddhi.