Ten things wherein one doeth good to oneself


(1) One doeth good to oneself by abandoning worldly conventions and devoting one- self to the Holy Dharma.
(2) One doeth good to oneself by departing from home and kindred and attaching oneself to a guru of saintly character.
(3) One doeth good to oneself by relinquishing worldly activities and devoting one- self to the three religious activities, - hearing, reflecting, and meditating [upon the chosen teachings].
(4) One doeth good to oneself by giving up social intercourse and dwelling alone in solitude.
(5) One doeth good to oneself renouncing desire for luxury and ease and enduring hardship.
(6) One doeth good to oneself by being contented with simple things and free from craving for worldly possessions.
(7) One doeth good to oneself by making and firmly adhering to the resolution not to take advantage of others.
(8) One doeth good to oneself by attaining freedom from hankering after the transitory pleasures of this life and devoting oneself to the realization of the eternal bliss of Nirvana.
(9) One doeth good to oneself by abandoning attachment to visible material things [which are transitory and un- real] and attaining knowledge of Reality.
(10) One doeth good to oneself by preventing the three doors to knowledge [the body, the speech, and the mind]
from remaining spiritually undisciplined and by acquiring, through right use of them, the Twofold Merit.

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Everything Is Cognition-Only

In the following passage from the Compendium of the Great Vehicle (Mahayana-samgraha), Asanga indicates that all objects of perception are cognition-only.
The reasoning [that the doctrine of cognition-only is proven by both scripture and reasoning] is also indicated by this scripture [i.e., the Sutra Explaining the Thought]. When the mind is in meditative equipoise, in terms of whatever images that are objects of knowledge--blue and so forth--that are seen, the mind is seen. Blue and so forth are not objects that are different from mind. By this reasoning, bodhisattvas should infer that all cognitions are cognition-only.

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'The Path to Happiness'
A Dhamma Talk by Sogyal Rinpoche


Presented by the RIGPA Fellowship (Melbourne)
Thursday 13 February 2003
Dallas Brooks Centre
300 Albert Street, East Melbourne 3001
This paper was written by:
Mr Julian Bamford BA AppRec
Director, Buddhist Discussion Centre (Upwey) Ltd.
President, Chan Academy Australia
Secretary, Standing Committee on Publication, Publicity, Education, Culture and Arts, World Fellowship of Buddhists
Assistant Editor, Longhair Australian News
Assistant Editor, Brooking Street Bugle
Presenter, Buddhist Hour Radio Broadcast
The paper was published on 3 March 2003.


It is from notes made of Sogyal Rinpoches talk and attempts to relate the main themes of the talk and where able capture as closely as possible the Rinpoche's words, anecdotes and stories.

The writer humbly apologises for any error or misinterpretation that he may have made in his note takings and requests the understanding of the Rinpoche, the great Teachers and the reader.

May the blessings of the triple gem bless you


1. An Introduction to Sogyal Rinpoche and the Dhamma Talk 'The Path to Happiness'

A representative from RIGPA Melbourne welcomed the guests and audience of over 850 persons to the Public Dhamma Talk by Sogyal Rinpoche at the Dallas Brooks Centre in Melbourne on 13 February 2003.

The Chan Academy Australia's Resident Practitioners and Buddha Dhamma Teachers John and Anita Hughes attended the talk as special guests of RIGPA Melbourne. Our Chan Academy Australia President Mr. Julian Bamford was their driver and attendant for the evening.

John and Anita met with fellow guests Sandup, and Dr. Ranjith Hettiarachi from the Buddhist Foundation (Vic) Australia, a Regional Centre of the World Fellowship of Buddhists. Also in the audience were our Centre's Members and friends Julie O'Donnell, Rani Hughes, Jocelyn Hughes and Lainie Smallwood.

As part of the introduction the Convenor spoke of Sogyal Rinpoche's work and his program of Buddha Dhamma teachings and meditation retreats at Centres around the world.

In a hands-up poll of the audience about 35% (approximately 280 persons) signalled that they had not heard a Dhamma talk before.

Sogyal Rinpoche's Dhamma teaching programs bring him to Australia each year. His first visit to Australia was in 1985 and our Teacher John D. Hughes recalls attending the Rinpoches first Melbourne talk with some of his students.


2.Buddha Dhamma Teacher, Translator and Aide to Great Masters

Born in Kham in eastern Tibet, Sogyal Rinpoche was recognised as the incarnation of Lerab Lingpa Terton Sogyal, a teacher to the 13th Dalai Lama, by Jamang Khyentse Chokyi Lodro, one of the most outstanding masters of the twentieth century,

Jamang Khyentse Chokyi Lodro supervised Rinpoche's training. Rinpoche has studied with many masters, of all schools, especially Kyabje Dudjom Rinpoche and Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche.

First as a translator and aide to these masters, and then teaching in his own right. He travelled to many countries, observing the reality of people's lives, and searching for how to translate the teachings of Buddha Dhamma to make them relevant to modern men and women, by drawing out their universal message while losing none of their authenticity, purity and power.

Rinpoche is the Teaching Holder of the Lineage of Dogzchen.

He has studied in both the University of Delhi India and the University of Cambridge UK.

His book The Tibetan book of Living and Dying has been published in 26 languages and sold over 1.5 million copies in 54 countries around the world.

It has been adopted by colleges, groups and institutions, both medical and religious, and is used extensively by nurses' doctors and health care professionals.

Sogyal Rinpoche teaches world wide, addressing thousands of people in his teaching programs and is a frequent speaker at major conferences.

There is an annual calendar of retreats and teachings at RIGPA Centres in France, Ireland, Germany, UK and major cities in Australia. Teachings are also provided through RIGPA's Australian 'bush telegraph' network of students.


3.'The Path to Happiness' and Practice of Dzogchen or "Great Perfection"

The practice of Dzogchen, or "Great Perfection", is the most ancient and direct stream of wisdom within the Buddhist tradition of Tibet. It is considered the very pinnacle of all teachings, and the most immediate path towards enlightenment.

As a way in which to realise the innermost nature of mind, Dzogchen is the clearest, most effective, and most relevant to the modern world. It is the path at once simple and profound, one that can be integrated with ordinary life and practise anywhere.

The Rinpoche explained to the audience in the first minutes of his talk that he was going to give the complete Buddha Dhamma path.

He began with the words:

Looking at the world today...and being human....the main purpose of life is to be happy. All people share that same goal.

Buddhism is all about ultimate happiness or enlightenment. Following the spiritual path. It is nothing more than practice to achieve enlightenment, to be completely free from suffering.

Whatever happiness we have now is only temporary.

Where do we find ultimate happiness within ourselves?

It cannot be found in anything external from ourselves. But unfortunately we spend most of our time looking outside.

As an old story tells: it is as if you have left your elephant at home and gone to look for its footprints in the forest'.

While there is a small percentage of happiness and suffering that comes from outside circumstances, ultimately happiness and suffering depend upon the mind.

The term Dhamma is what Buddhism (or Buddha Dhamma) is all about. It is not so much about religion.

Dhamma can be understood on many levels. At the highest level Dhamma is ultimate truth. It is the absolute, no characteristics, and no methodology, described as 'not even a hairs breadth of teaching'.

At the relative level it is the path leading to that truth. The realisation of the inherent nature of things. Dhamma at the relative level is the means to realisation.

At this point in his talk the Rinpoche asked the audience 'are you 'OK'. He then came down of the stage and stood at the front row of the audience and delivered the whole Dhamma talk from there.


4. The heart of the practice of Buddha Dhamma.

The Rinpoche commented that while his talk may be called a public talk, in reality he was giving a Dhamma talk. The most essential teaching...the heart of the practice of Buddha Dhamma.

Ultimate truth is the whole of dhamma.
Dhamma is the ultimate truth itself.

Relative truth or conventional truth is the path to realise the inherent nature of things.

The practise is to realise the inherent nature of everything.

Relative dhamma is to make it more accessible.

This is called ground path foundation.


5. What is the 'Ground' path foundation?

It is this, the original primordial teaching - Buddha nature.

What it speaks of is our potential seed, the seed for enlightenment in all of us.

One ground is that there is not the slightest difference between the Buddha and ourselves.

The second ground is that the Buddha recognised the adventitious stains, the temporary obscuration.

Ground is often represented by the primordial Buddha Sammanthabhadra Buddha.

Always well, always good. Forever unchanging fundamental nature which is unchanging, beyond words and thought.

As an example of primordial nature think of the sky.

In the sky the sun is shining this is like the Buddha.

Even though the sky and the sun may be obscured by cloud they are still there. The sky is still there; the sun is still shining.

The Great Perfection speaks of this very nature. Buddha nature is unstained and pure. At the highest level sooner or later you will get it. By hearing this dhamma teaching just once plants the seed.

There are three qualities: essence, nature and compassion.

Essence is the clear sky

Nature is the clear sun

Compassion is the shining of the sun - outwardly in all directions this is what compassion is like.

The whole point or purpose for following this path is to become like this.

Every being has the Buddha nature.

But our minds are rooted in ignorance - and the destructiveness of emotions brings negative kamma. Being like this, clouds our original nature our true nature.


6. Following a means of realising your true nature.

Buddha Dhamma is not about dogma - it is about following a means of realising your true nature.

There are three qualities or grounds. They are true nature, nature of truth, and the nature of Lord Buddha.

Essence is empty
Nature is cognisant
Compassion is confidence

Essence is sometimes described as shunyatta - great openness.

In mathematics if there were no 'zero' there would be nothing. The origin of zero is a topic that India's past Prime Minister Nehru talked about in his book.

Emptiness or shunyata.

As an example it could be described as teaching or study in a very scholarly way. It is so rich. When we practise it has to become essential. Practice is experiential.

Way of teaching: da (permanence) che (non existence) brahva (real).

Truth is nature is the whole of nihilism and externalism.

The trouble is that because something exists we think it is permanent. An example is this glass of water.

You look at it, you see it here in my hand, you think it must be permanent. But what if it drops to the floor and breaks. Then breaks into smaller and smaller bits down to the size of an atom. And even atoms can be broken down until there is just light and energy.

It is not permanent even though it appears so.

Nothing is independently existing. If you and I would be permanent we wouldn't die.

We are nature and nature is impermanent. Then we might say its nothing.

But it is not nothing either.

It appears because of many causes and conditions that each being creates for himself or herself.

This is what is called dependant origination.

In the Heart Sutra and the Prajna Paramita it is noted that form is emptiness - emptiness is form.


7. The practical benefits of discovering impermanence

What then is the practical benefit of this?

When you realise impermanence it helps us to let go of our attachments and grasping.

When a person has ignorance they believe that things are permanent, so then they grasp at them.

When they realise that things are impermanent then they will stop their attachment.

Love is not attachment. When a person grows more in freedom and letting go, from this action comes real love.

When you destroy an atom it releases tremendous energy.

When we destroy attachment it releases compassion.

When we realise impermanence we can let go and become free.

At the same time knowing that things are not permanent and not nothing.

Because of inter-dependence whatever words we say or think the resulting kamma is our own.

Nagajuna said: we are our own past.

Buddha said if you want to know your past, then look at your present.

Whatever we say or do, we have to be responsible, particularly what we think.

The Buddha's words in the Dhammapada stated: we are what we think.


8. Mind is not just mind, it is also heart.

We are what we think - all that we are, misery and happiness, is the outcome of our own actions in the past.

When we do something noble it is a good thing, but if our motivation is screwed up the resulting kamma can be not so good.

Mind is free of permanence and non-existence.

The Buddha said commit not one single unwholesome action, avoid negativities and unwholesome harmful actions.

About unwholesome actions Shantideva said all the suffering there is in this world comes from thinking of oneself. All the happiness in the world comes from thinking of others.

While the essence of mind is emptiness, its nature is cognisant.

At a certain level everything breaks down to light and energy - clear light is cognisant nature. Awareness equals knowing of emptiness.


9. The usefulness of words as indicators of meaning

The basis or root of the problem is at the moment that light is misused by the ego.

We need to understand that words are only indicators of meaning.

To explain this another way, think of a movie projector.

The projector sends light onto a screen to light all our senses.

The phenomenon housed inside the projector is a light bulb that enables images resident on the film to projected onto a screen. But the bulb is not involved in the outcome, not at all.

Another example that explains this is a piece of rope on the ground.

The person fails to see the rope where it is, or what it is, but instead mistakes it for something else that is not there - a snake.

Ego is the nature.

Cognisance is cognition.

We use cognisance to get awareness of cognition.

The manifestation of energy of the enlightened mind.

There are three equal parts.

Wisdom that knows
Compassion that loves
Power that is able to conquer.

When you see the sky, the sun shines bright in it.

This an analogy for the enlightened mind

The tremendous light is wisdom
The tremendous warmth is compassion
Together they give life tremendous power - light - warmth - power - luminosity.


10.What is our real nature?

How can we show people their real nature?

Who are we?

When we are happy - that's who we are
When we are sad - that's who we are

We end up not only believing but becoming as well.

But this is only temporary.

Everything around us, everything we associate with ourselves is impermanent.

If you really look all these talks, stories come because of causes and conditions, were these to cease the stories would end.

If you look with your mind, if you exercise your good thoughts it is already past.

Because whatever arises when you start thinking, it is already gone.

A great master once said you can never have a thought in the present.


What is the essence or the nature of our mind? Clarity, cognisance, fundamental nature of mind is awareness.

With our mind is also that of our wants, feelings and understanding.

Our purest mind, purest feeling, purest heart. It is always with us, it always has been, it always will be with us.

The mind is there at all times, whether we are happy, high or low, sick or well.

Pure consciousness will continue until enlightenment.

The Dalai Lama said this consciousness is mind most conscious.

The Prajna Paramita and Heart Sutra speak of this.

Nagajuna said that it is beyond words, beyond thought, beyond description. The fundamental innate mind of Buddha is the ordinary mind - it is the most natural in the sense that it is nature.

Wisdom is ordinary whereas delusion is extraordinary.

It is simply your flawless present awareness, cognisance awakened.

When we come to discover this fundamental grounded mind then we discover ourselves.


11. Finding the antidote to suffering

The greatest source of suffering is not knowing who we really are.

People are under a great amount of stress, so much pressure on keeping morality. The new morality is not about good or bad but it is about whether living is fun or boring.

When you really practice meditation you can discover this incredible joy, compassion, love, in fact we discover ourselves.

Everything is with you, what the masters give is incredible love, wisdom, they show us but they cannot liberate us.

In order to realise, how to realise is to go straight there. There are some extraordinary beings, when they realise; they are liberated there and then.

We view and we see. With meditation we confirm and maintain the view as reality. Then we take action.

There is a direct approach.

Meditation on peace.

In order to remove distraction and mindlessness - the antidote is mindfulness - being in the present.

One is lightly mindful focussing on breathing, in and out, but not 100%. Place 25% on mindfulness of breathing.

Breathe in and breathe, knowing that you are breathing in and breathing out, no other analysis or commentary.

Pure attention for 5 to 10 minutes - this is anapannasati, meditation on the breath.

Thinking about this and that.

Another 25% is on our senses, whenever you feel your mind being distracted you bring your mind back to the breath.

Meditation is still purist. Breath is the object. Pure attention, pure attention. Slowly the mind will settle.

Breathing in breathing out. One pointedness is the foundation meditation. Shamatha meditation.

Now the preliminary. Now what is the essence, heart foundation of meditation? It is the state of non-state, this is the reality the goal.


12. Arousing bodhicitta for the sake of others

The state of non-distraction is simply knowing, nothing to meditate on. You are undistracted, undisturbed. Bodhicitta - compassion.

Stay in that meditation, and wait for a few moments, it has the power to purify much negative kamma.

You come closer and closer to the true state.

Bodhicitta - enlightenment
Heart of - enlightenment
Mind of - enlightenment

What is it?

Arousing bodhicitta for the sake of others is wanting to attain enlightenment.

What you really want to do is awaken them from suffering.

Bodhicitta - is love and compassion. It is wanting to free beings from suffering - wanting all beings to be free suffering and the causes of suffering.

It is wanting all beings to reach this state of enlightenment. Only this lasting happiness is the state of enlightenment.

Wisdom - love - enlightenment. There are two aspects:

Aspiration aspect
and
Action aspect.

Aspiration aspect is the goal. That you want all beings to be free from suffering.

Action aspiration is practising. Meditation, dana, patience, wisdom and the six paramitas.

You dedicate that course of action to all beings enlightenment.

By this power and the merit of this action may this become the causes for all beings to become enlightened.

That is the teaching, that is the practice.

If this practise is held for a few moments it has the power to purify many eons of negative kamma.

With the heart and wisdom of bodhicitta - you connect with it forever.

It is incredibly powerful. All that is needed is to pray very strongly for the peace and sanity of the world.

You must not sacrifice long term benefits for short-term gain.

Because in the long term you will suffer more pain.


13. The practise of calm abiding

Some persons are not able to remain in a state of undisturbed meditation. For those persons there is another method.

Use the five sense doors, because they are the source of negative emotions. For example:

Eye - beauty - desire
Eye - ugliness - abhorrence

If we really look deeply at something arising we see that there are many causes.

Objects of blame or anger are from many causes. To understand this we can become free of much suffering.

Even though negative emotions may arise, grasping has not yet arisen. It is only when you act on the negative emotion that is does become dangerous.

Many emotions can arise but it is how we respond to them.

Realise that the essence of mind is empty - from that emotion are empty. For example: as soon as you awake you are liberated.

It is when you start thinking why? It is then that problems, stresses begin to arise.

When you remain undisturbed and negative emotions clear. Our restless thinking subsides into peace.

This is the practise of calm abiding.

Our restless thinking mind subsides into a mind of peace.

Negativity and aggression are disarmed, unkindness removed, revealing our true happiness from a state of calm abiding. The confusion evaporates and gives peace from our emotions.

The more we purify and come in touch with our true nature the more our compassion can arise.

Knowing the quality of mind. This goodness is who we really are.

Buddha nature.
Skylight nature.

Wisdom and loving compassion radiate out.

Ego has dissolved and we simply rest in this nature of mind, a quiet state of confidence and peace we can ever imagine.

When we keep in this state of mind, we become more at peace.

Mind is peaceful.

By the power and the merit of this dhamma talk may it become the causes for all beings to become enlightened.

May you cultivate all the blessings from this talk

May you aide Buddha Dhamma Teachers, Translators and Great
Masters.

May you dedicate the blessings of reading this dhamma talk to
finding ultimate happiness within yourself.

May you practice to achieve enlightenment, to be completely free from suffering

May you come to realise your true nature, Buddha nature.

May you find peace within yourself

May you be well and happy


References:

RIGPA Melbourne, Centre for the Study and practice of Tibetan Buddhism. Program 2003 brochure.
Public Talk 'The Path to Happiness'. Sogyal Rinpoche. Australian Tour 2003 brochure. RIGPA Melbourne Centre.

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The Paradox of Happiness
By John Tarrant

Everyone knows happiness is A Good Thing, more desirable than say, vacuum cleaners or eye shadow, and right up there with fame, fortune and the love of beautiful women (or men). The founding fathers of the United States offered happiness as part of the mission statement for a people coming together as a nation, encouraging them to pursue-and perhaps to go so far as to chase, harry, hunt down, subdue and corral-happiness. Even the Dalai Lama has said that happiness is the point of Buddhism.
At the same time, happiness is, as quarry, elusive. Happiness is a unicorn. Everyone wants to find it, yet, just when you are hoping for its company, it has a way of disappearing into the leafy shade of its forest. Then the family barbecue or job interview or visit to the hospital just has to stumble along with ordinary human skills and no special blessing.
While a lot of time is spent pursuing happiness, the evidence is compelling that if you plunge toward this unicorn directly, you will miss it by miles, and therefore won't receive its famous kindnesses. Doesn't everyone know this already? Yes. Does that stop anybody from chasing happiness? No.
Mostly, if a method for achieving happiness is not successful, people think something like, She should have loved me more. Or, I wasn't trying hard enough. Or, I wasn't holding my mouth right. Or, If only I had bought a different car. Whether the needle on the blame meter points to yourself or to others, that particular machine will always seem to be malfunctioning, since it never gives a diagnosis that is useful for fixing the problem. You try to do the method better, rather than looking at whether the method works. So let's look at the method.
The Approach Direct
The direct approach to happiness is splendid in its simplicity. It comes down to a bold slogan: Get the Loot. This is the basic happiness-is-a-warm-gun or diamonds-are-a-girl's-best-friend tactic. There is an endless quest to store happiness in objects from which it will seep out like golden light in the winter of any sadness that may come upon you. Variant and popular forms of Get the Loot are: Get the Girl and Get the Prince. More subtle variations are Get the Spiritual Transformation and Get the Psychological Adjustment to a Difficult Childhood-"I'll take a nice enlightenment to go with my espresso please."
The obvious problem with the Get-the-Loot approach is that loot doesn't last. My really cool linen jacket from last year looks, well, so last year, and my nice, new Volvo has become my mechanic's friend. It doesn't seem that happiness can be stored in any stable way-it's even worse than electricity in this regard. You might try to make things last a little longer. You could buy an extremely reliable car. You might extract a promise that your partner will always love you, but would you believe such a promise? Aren't there some Monday mornings when you don't love even your dog? And if you did believe such a promise, would it work? Would you really get happiness?
The Approach Indirect
The ancient authorities, including the Buddha, are convinced that you cannot just waltz right up to the unicorn of happiness. The unicorn disappears if you even look straight at it. You have to take an interest in the rosebushes or the child playing with dolls, and then you might see the unicorn out of the corner of your eye. At first nearly everyone thinks you can just pretend an interest in the rosebushes or the child, but you can't fake out the unicorn. Pretending an interest in the rosebushes happens when you say to yourself, "I'm meditating to get healthy, to grow kinder, to get enlightened, to pick stocks better and be happy." Though some of these purposes might be noble, this approach doesn't work; you can't manipulate yourself into changing any more than you can manipulate other people into changing. A unicorn is like a human being in that relations with it are fatally compromised by coercion and demands. You can't make a unicorn come to you; it has to want to.
The Approach Without Guile
A spiritual practice is different from many human endeavors in that it does not have a pre-designed goal. You have to just do the spiritual practice without guile and be a courteous host to whatever comes. That's when unicorns appear. The nakedness of this practice makes you unicorn-prone. The unicorn of happiness is not elusive because it is an illusion. It is real. It just inhabits a different dimension from getting and losing and good and evil and pleasure and loss, which are the places we usually look for it.
The legend of the unicorn says that it is attracted to virgins; indeed, virgins are its only known weakness. Before you despair, it might be interesting to take this bit about virgins as an image of what goes on in the mind. The virginal mind is innocent in the positive sense. The innocent mind is not thinking about itself and what it can get. It isn't thinking, "How do I look as unicorn bait?" "No unicorn could ever be interested in me." "I'll be famous if I catch a unicorn." "How do I construct the best unicorn-catching machine?"
Instead, the innocent mind is just hanging out, living its life. It attracts the unicorn because it is like the unicorn, who is also just hanging out, living its life. The innocent mind is the meditation mind, the mind before the world was built and populated with stories about what to think and do. It is sometimes called beginner's mind. It exists before enlightenment and before theology and theology's argument with human desire. The innocent mind is not spending all its time scheming to get others to do what it wants or policing its own impulses. It's open to something new, something that it hasn't thought of. It's the person at the party who doesn't network or try to impress you.
In the legend, the unicorn has another property: its horn stops the action of poisons. This image refers not just to the openness of the meditation mind but also to the way it actively undermines unhappiness and delusion.
The Chinese unicorn is sighted even more rarely than the European one. It is said to have appeared at the time of Confucius' birth and to have a taste for wisdom. One sage had the interesting thought that if a unicorn is so seldom seen, you might not know for certain what it looked like. It might be capable of changing shape. In fact you might meet one and not realize it. How can you be sure that a unicorn is not present on a given occasion? You might be sitting with the unicorn of happiness at this very moment and not know it. Perhaps when you are unhappy, you are just not paying attention.
Security & Insecurity
The strategy of running straight at the Unicorn And Getting the Loot has another serious drawback, which is that it is asking for too little. When you are unhappy, you look for a remedy that is in the range of what you already know. Yet what you already know might be precisely what is obscuring your vision of the unicorn. There is a Hindu story about a person who prayed to see Krishna. She meditated hard and it so happened that the blue god was meandering along the woodland path and noticed her. He bent over and tapped her on the shoulder. She did not open her eyes. "Please don't distract me," she said, "I am meditating with a sacred goal in mind." "Oh, O.K. then," thought Krishna, "I wouldn't want to interfere with that," and wandered on down the path.
This is a version of the map-and-territory problem. When you rely on what you know you are always relying on a map which, as soon as it is drawn, has begun to diverge from the territory it intended to describe, which is life. You make adjustments to fit the map, you stand on your head to fit the map. Yet happiness adheres to the territory. Happiness is rooted in what we do not know; otherwise everyone would already be happy. No one knows what a unicorn is before they meet one, and no one can know what their life will look like after they have met one. The unicorn won't change the stuff in your life; it will change you.
If the unicorn is pursued through the getting of things and experiences, the basic idea is that something from outside will make you happy. Then the hidden assumption is that what is inside is pretty pathetic or at least not worth considering in the happiness stakes. Yet what is inside is the only source of happiness.
The big secret is that the unicorn already lives inside you. If the unicorn is already here, the unicorn comes. If it is not here, it will never come. Zen teachers sometimes carry a carved stick as an accoutrement, an indicator that they are important in case no one otherwise notices. One old teacher said, "If you have a stick, I'll give you a stick. If you don't have a stick, I'll take it away."
The desire for loot is usually in some way a hunger for security. A dedicated collector learns quickly that another pair of shoes or another epiphany will not be the final and necessary contribution to happiness. This is why collecting has a melancholy, poignant air. The quest for security is doomed, and its failure is what makes it interesting. It's like taking certain drugs, say, or skipping classes at university or gambling in casinos-it's so bad for you that it feels cool; it gives you a sense of wealth since you are squandering life as if you were immortal. Seeking security is a rebellion against the unpredictability of reality and also against its demanding fascination.
The deep reason things coming in from the outside are not ultimately consoling is that there is a bigger question going on- security for whom, happiness for whom? You might have an idea about who you are, and the security is a support structure for that idea. Security is always for an idea that you are "a someone." Yet it is hard to prove that you really are "a someone." If you check your thoughts out, they come and go, they change radically overnight or according to the state of your digestion, and you may find that you often don't even believe them. If you look, you can't find who is thinking your thoughts.
Bodhidharma, who brought Zen to China from India, is meditating when a student says to him, "My mind is not at peace. Please put it to rest."
Bodhidharma says, "Bring me your mind and I will set it to rest."
"But I've searched for my mind and can't find it."
"There, I have put it to rest."
Being unable to find your mind when you look for it might be thought of as a moment of massive uncertainty, yet this is exactly what frees you. Uncertainty makes happiness possible because it stops certainty from interrupting happiness. Happiness is the natural state of things; the unicorn is already here.
Nothing Is Too Good For Little Me
When the mind and heart are at rest, they are not important or unimportant, secure or insecure, and this natural state is happiness. Security, on the other hand, is the cause of unhappiness. It is in the service of a character called "Me," as in "What about Me?" who is always worried what will happen to her. There is "Poor Little Me" and "Nothing Is Too Good For Little Me," and both are based on the longing for security.
When I was three or four I had an imaginary playmate who was the foreman on an imaginary construction site. His name was Bill and I'd ring him up on an imaginary phone next to the black wall phone in the front hall. I used to give him orders. I'd say, "Bring the bulldozer." We would also have conversations at lunchtime. "Another bloody jam sandwich," I would complain to him enthusiastically, flinging it over my shoulder. Having a self is a bit like keeping Bill with you for the rest of your life, and setting your life up to assure him that he is real.
"Little Me" is a hypothesis to explain where thoughts come from. Yet no one knows where thoughts come from. Sometimes they don't even seem to belong to anyone. The next line of the poem just arrives, the way the next moment of the world does. This is good news for you because it leaves the door open for the unicorn, who also appears out of nowhere, but bad news for Little Me, who likes you to think that she is the source of your thoughts and therefore essential.
So many of your thoughts are for the sake of preserving Little Me. When you were a child she entered your employ as a governess who promised to be a help. As you grew she became your faithful retainer, general secretary and assistant. Yet her main purpose seems to be to make herself feel secure. She exists to make sure that she continues to exist. An idea is trying to maintain itself, a phantom who asks that you serve her. Yet security for Little Me is not security for you. She is so fascinating to herself that she is uninterested in other people, including you. You have to run around and Get the Loot to assuage this phantom's anxiety. You have to build pyramids because she is frightened of dying. The Sufis have a story about a donkey who persuades his rider to carry him. Little Me is like that donkey. She did seem to be a help at first, but pretty soon she started impersonating you and writing checks.
Little Me fields all your calls. Meanwhile she gives you the sort of plausible and utterly useless advice that Polonius offered Hamlet. The advice is useless because it is not about you, it's just designed to hold your attention on her.
There is nothing truly wrong with Little Me other than that she, or he, doesn't exist. The secret to happiness is that Little Me is not necessary. When you discover this you may find it a great relief.
This is why happiness is simpler than suffering, which is always working so hard. The unicorn of happiness is allergic to advice and Little Me's complicated schemes are not interesting to her. She is a free wanderer with no fixed destination or shape; her hooves are in the Tao.
Trying Too Hard Is Always a Good Idea
When I first took up meditation I struggled a lot. I really, really, really wanted an experience of enlightenment, so I dashed straight at the unicorn of happiness. When I sat, I was consumed by physical pain, and so naturally I sat up all night. I experimented with breathing in special ways. Basically I tried to concentrate and stay alive for the next five minutes of sitting. Condemning my own states of mind-"This is not a unicorn, and neither is this"-was a lonely path and my own lack of inner kindness wore me down. Perhaps it was a way to convince myself that I was worthy of a visit from the unicorn. Yet all that effort was for the sake of an idea-wisdom will be hard for me, it will take a long time and I will have to suffer to earn it-and this idea was just a prejudice: Little Me's opinion.
When you think that you need something to navigate by, you might cling to a bad or unverifiable idea, which might take you in some other direction than the one you hoped to go in. I was willing to change everything about my life except my ideas. In this way spiritual work which can look so sincere and revolutionary can become at bottom just another quest for security. You could make an argument that shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue is more spiritually sincere. I thought that the unicorn would appear and show me something completely surprising, and at the same time it would say to me, "Yes, John, that's the way to meditate, steady as she goes, you're getting it now. And as a reward, I'll share a few additional secrets with you."
This is the poignant situation of the one who sets off to seek wisdom. I thought happiness would change my world completely and at the same time it would still be my world. In this way, I thought that happiness would confirm my map of the world. Actually, happiness does the opposite: it steals your map so that you can't use it any more. And when there is nothing to navigate by, you are in Unicorn World.
In a certain kind of Zen training, the opening in which you see through your illusions is called kensho, which means, more or less, seeing your true nature. At the zendo where I practiced in the early days, we had a little kensho factory and would encourage each other to sit unmoving through pain. The meditation hall was very noisy, leaders would be yelling, and the sound of the Zen stick whacking people would cut through the air. It was either surprisingly interesting or seemed like a medieval hell, according to your point of view. For me it was both.
When I began to teach, I did more or less the same thing as I'd been taught. The method was tuned toward the direction whence unicorns were expected to appear. I noticed, though, that unicorns did not seem to come from such places, and when, on occasion, they did appear, they seemed indifferent to our methods. People didn't seem to have spiritual openings when the system was tight and pure. The openings came when the system broke down.
Perhaps people wore out and couldn't try any harder and then just felt their lives for a while and were amazed at the spaciousness that opened inside and out. Perhaps their minds escaped their control moves and they saw something-say a tree-as if for the first time. Looking at a tree with such purity they might have noticed a kinship with the tree and have been grateful to be alive, a gratitude that seemed irreversible. The unicorn does not come from the direction you might be expecting it to.
After a while, I began to change my teaching method. Mainly this meant not chasing the unicorn directly and, instead, being interested in what showed up in people's psyches. Then unhappiness became interesting rather than evidence of failure; unhappiness itself became a gate to happiness.
Here's an example. Year after year, on the last day of a retreat, a man fell into despair believing that he had missed another opportunity for enlightenment. It was as if it was his job to sit around and be the one who failed. His mood was compounded when others seemed to be glowing and illuminated. His inner narrative went something like, "I haven't accomplished anything or made myself admirable to myself or others. I've worked so hard, yet I'm really not sincere enough."
This is the sort of thing only a sincere person would think. But he was bereft. Then one time, mysteriously, a Patsy Cline song arrived in his mind and just stayed. "I fall to pieces" repeated itself over and over like a koan or a mantra. This didn't seem orthodox to him, but there was nothing he could do about it. Gradually he began to notice that falling to pieces could be a positive thing. The mind's prison could fall to pieces. He was amused and touched, and a thoughtless compassion for life began to grow in him, a glimpse of a luminous animal moving through the trees. Things didn't go further for the moment and when the retreat ended the old blues came back.
"I feel so discouraged," he thought. "I just feel so discouraged." This phrase began repeating itself also, many times. "I feel so discouraged." His internal voice grew more and more depressed, and then a change occurred. Gradually the voice became energetic. "I feel so discouraged," grew louder. He began to have fun with it. He was shouting to himself, "I feel so discouraged!" as if in triumph, and laughing. "And what's wrong with that?" he thought, embracing his one life. Even discouragement became funny and marvelous. How good to be alive and discouraged. That was his moment of spiritual transformation.
So what is the take-away point about the unicorn?
Everyone wants to use happiness as a fix for problems, yet happiness is its own, very big thing, and it is selling happiness short to make it a fix for problems. To be happy is to experience life not as a series of struggles but as a gift, one that has no known limit. This doesn't mean ignoring your difficulties: it means not assuming that they are what you think they are. If you throw away everything you believe about your difficulties you will notice that many of them disappear and the rest become interesting.
When you get the hang of being more interested in life than in agreeing with your thoughts, then you will get the life you get. And you will be able to have as much happiness as you want with almost no effort whatsoever. When you stop believing your thoughts, you look around just for you, just because it is interesting to look around. Some people call that enlightenment. But you won't call it that. You'll be too interested in the new view. And you'll notice that wherever you look there will be nothing but those damned unicorns.
John Tarrant is the author of The Light Inside the Dark: Zen, Soul, and the Spiritual Life (HarperCollins) and the director of Pacific Zen Institute, which conducts retreats devoted to koans, inquiry and the arts.

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The Purpose and Importance of Philosophical Studies
Loppon Jamyang Lekshey

One who can bless the mind into Dharmakaya just by remembering him,
One who can bestow the accomplishment and blessings like stream of water,
One who is the excellent saviour during the bardo, present and future lives,
May my Guru with such qualities remain on my crown forever.
General speaking, it is an attribution of a scholar to learn every field of knowledge. But the aim of study are different, in the sense that some long for the well-being of this life, some aim at life hereafter, and yet some particular people just do not aim for any of the above. Their aim is to attain liberation from samsaric problems. In any case, the actual goal of all these sections of people is happiness. Nevertheless, due to one's ignorance people are mistaken in recognising the actual happiness and the cause of that happiness. Therefore, out of attachment and hatred they seek happiness, but instead create miserable circumstances. For this reason, Buddha Shakyamuni, out of compassion, gave teachings of three vehicles in order to dispel our ignorance and lead us to the right path towards liberation. These teachings explain what is the actual happiness and how to achieve it.
Therefore, it is a unique opportunity to avail of such circumstances and facilities for learning the teachings of three vehicles. Despite having such an opportunity, if one is caught in laziness and distraction, it will be an unrecoverable loss. It is like walking with golden-soled shoes. One will never recover the lost gold during that walk. Besides, the role of motivation becomes very important in order to make the Dharma study meaningful.
As the 21st century approaches people seem to trust more on modern age. At the same time the effect of the degenerate age becomes more evident among the religious people. The reason why I say this is because more and more religious people ignore the conditions of past and future lives as well as the law of karma. The Tibetan scholar Gyalsay Thogme said, "With the physical form of religion one may create the non-religious act." I would say that this is now becoming true as we find several people who, while working hard in the name of Dharma, aspire to gain wealth, high position, large following and reputation etc. without any sense of shame and hesitation. One should rather do business or become a politician.
The value of the Dharma is immeasurable and so is its fruit. It is clearly stated in the Pramanavarttika of Dharmakirti that the teaching of Buddha Shakyamuni is undeceivable. It is ironic that even some of the Buddhists doubt the efficacy of the Dharma just because they do not find results immediately. Such a thought arises on account of the lack of proper understanding and confidence in the law of karma. The karma, in general, is of three types depending on the strength of the karma; the karma that ripens in this life, that which ripens in the life hereafter and that which ripens in the other following lives. If one expects the results of one's meritorious act immediately, as in the case of eating food and getting rid of hunger, then he or she does not have a proper knowledge of how the inter-dependence of cause and result works.
However, the virtuous deeds can never be wasted. It also depends on how purely one is committed to virtuous deeds. It must be done according to the Buddha's teachings, otherwise it will not result in benefit. If one is not able to practise Dharma purely, motivation-wise etc., one should not blame the Dharma.
In order to practise pure Dharma, of course one must be free from the eight unfavourable conditions and be endowed with the ten obtainments plus the renunciation thought. But these are not enough. Apart from the above things, one must have the right opportunity of learning and concentration on Buddha Dharma. With such an opportunity one must also have the right motivation. To the real Buddha's followers, the purpose of learning Dharma is how to relinquish the Samsaric problems and how to attain Nirvana. Buddhism is not a way to acquire worldly contentment. The purpose of learning Buddha Dharma is to be able to practise the right path and to teach the right path to other sentient beings.
It appears to be quite common these days for some people to jump into a particular practice without doing enough studies. Later they claim to have accomplished as great meditators or realisers of the perfect view. In fact it is not as easy as it is made out to be. Sakya Pandita said, "A meditator without hearing (Dharma) is like a maimed perso trying to climb up a rock." Of course it is not possible for an ordinary person to judge the inner qualities of other persons. Nevertheless, one must be able to judge the physical gestures and signs of inner attainment which are mentioned in both the Sutra and Tantra. Yes, there are occasions, such as during the fourth consecration or through the Guru's blessings, that one may recognise the true view or reality, but this is very rare. This is possible only for extraordinarily fortunate people.
Therefore it is important for ordinary people to clear the wrong view, to cut doubts on view and to clarify the right view before going for meditation. So before one goes to meditate on view, one must first be able to confirm what the right view is. For that, one must go through the study of Buddhism or Buddhist philosophy. The right view is the view of the Madhyamika School. It was accepted by the past qualified scholars that there is no difference in terms of the view between Sutrayana and Vajrayana. Though the Madhyamika view is interpreted differently by the scholars, it is not wise to praise one and criticise the others. One must analyse which is more reasonable with one's own wisdom. Having analysed intensely, one must then meditate on that view. Some of today's scholars, who are so by name only, do write criticial books, but they do not possess even a fragment of the knowledge of the past scholars. I find that these books reflect their ignorance, hatred, pride, etc. and also ultimately result in giving a discriminatory tendency to one's followers and readers. However, I do not mean that today's scholars should not write books. It is important for them to research thoroughly on the subject they are going to write on.
Again, if one thinks that one can first study and practise later, then it is a big mistake. Fundamentally, all compounded things are impermanent. There is no certainty that one will live on as planned. Practising Dharma can never be too early because we have been roaming in Samsara from beginningless time. So the present birth is not the first one in this Samsara. Since this is the case, one should engage in the practice of Dharma from right now. What I mean here by 'practice of Dharma' is meditation on compassion and Bodhicitta (altruistic thought). When one's mind becomes absorbed with the nature of compassion and Bodhicitta, then it becomes the source of Buddha's qualities.
Sarva Mangalam

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The Practice of Looking Deeply
by Thich Nhat Hanh

All authentic practices of the Buddha carry within them three essential teachings called the Dharma Seals. These three teachings of the Buddha are: impermanence, no self and nirvana. Just as all-important legal documents have the mark or signature of a witness, all genuine practices of the Buddha bear the mark of these three teachings.
If we look into the first Dharma Seal, impermanence, we see that it doesn't just mean that everything changes. By looking into the nature of things, we can see that nothing remains the same for even two consecutive moments. Because nothing remains unchanged from moment to moment it therefore has no fixed identity or a permanent self. So in the teaching of impermanence we always see the lack of an unchanging self. We call this "no self," the second Dharma Seal. It is because things are always transforming and have no self that freedom is possible.
The third Dharma Seal is nirvana. This means solidity and freedom, freedom from all ideas and notions. The word "nirvana" literally means "the extinction of all concepts." Looking deeply into impermanence leads to the discovery of no self. The discovery of no self leads to nirvana. Nirvana is the Kingdom of God.
Impermanence
The practice and understanding of impermanence is not just another description of reality. It is a tool that helps us in our transformation, healing and emancipation.
Impermanence means that everything changes and nothing remains the same in any consecutive moment. And although things change every moment, they still cannot be accurately described as the same or as different from what they were a moment ago.
When we bathe in the river today that we bathed in yesterday, is it the same river? Heraclitus said that we couldn't step into the same river twice. He was right. The water in the river today is completely different from the water we bathed in yesterday. Yet it is the same river. When Confucius was standing on the bank of a river watching it flow by he said, "Oh, it flows like that day and night, never ending."
The insight of impermanence helps us to go beyond all concepts. It helps us to go beyond same and different, and coming and going. It helps us to see that the river is not the same river but is also not different either. It shows us that the flame we lit on our bedside candle before we went to bed is not the same flame of the next morning. The flame on the table is not two flames, but it is not one flame either.
Impermanence Makes Everything Possible
We are often sad and suffer a lot when things change, but change and impermanence have a positive side. Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible. Life itself is possible. If a grain of corn is not impermanent, it can never be transformed into a stalk of corn. If the stalk were not impermanent, it could never provide us with the ear of corn we eat. If your daughter is not impermanent, she cannot grow up to become a woman. Then your grandchildren would never manifest. So instead of complaining about impermanence, we should say, "Warm welcome and long live impermanence." We should be happy. When we can see the miracle of impermanence our sadness and suffering will pass.
Impermanence should also be understood in the light of inter-being. Because all things inter-are, they are constantly influencing each other. It is said a butterfly's wings flapping on one side of the planet can affect the weather on the other side. Things cannot stay the same because they are influenced by everything else, everything that is not itself.
Practicing Impermanence
All of us can understand impermanence with our intellect, but this is not yet true understanding. Our intellect alone will not lead us to freedom. It will not lead us to enlightenment. When we are solid and we concentrate, we can practice looking deeply. And when we look deeply and see the nature of impermanence, we can then be concentrated on this deep insight. This is how the insight of impermanence becomes part of our being. It becomes our daily experience. We have to maintain the insight of impermanence in order to be able to see and live impermanence all the time. If we can use impermanence as an object of our meditation, we will nourish the understanding of impermanence in such a way that it will live in us every day. With this practice impermanence becomes a key that opens the door of reality.
We also cannot uncover the insight into impermanence for only a moment and then cover it up and see everything as permanent again. Most of the time we behave with our children as though they will always be at home with us. We never think that in three or four years they will leave us to marry and have their own family. Therefore we do not value the moments our child is with us.
I know many parents whose children, when they are eighteen or nineteen years old, leave home and live on their own. The parents lose their children and feel very sorry for themselves. Yet the parents did not value the moments they had with their children. The same is true of husbands and wives. You think that your spouse will be there for the whole of your life but how can you be so sure? We really have no idea where our partner will be in twenty or thirty years, or even tomorrow. It is very important to remember every day the practice of impermanence.
Seeing Emotions Through the Eyes of Impermanence
When somebody says something that makes you angry and you wish they would go away, please look deeply with the eyes of impermanence. If he or she were gone, what would you really feel? Would you be happy or would you weep? Practicing this insight can be very helpful. There is a gatha, or poem, we can use to help us:
Angry in the ultimate dimension
I close my eyes and look deeply.
Three hundred years from now
Where will you be and where shall I be?
When we are angry, what do we usually do? We shout, scream, and try to blame someone else for our problems. But looking at anger with the eyes of impermanence, we can stop and breathe. Angry at each other in the ultimate dimension, we close our eyes and look deeply. We try to see three hundred years into the future. What will you be like? What will I be like? Where will you be? Where will I be? We need only to breathe in and out, look at our future and at the other person's future. We do not need to look as far as three hundred years. It could be fifty or sixty years from now when we have both passed away.
Looking at the future, we see that the other person is very precious to us. When we know we can lose them at any moment, we are no longer angry. We want to embrace her or him and say, "How wonderful, you are still alive. I am so happy. How could I be angry with you? Both of us have to die someday and while we are still alive and together it is foolish to be angry at each other."
The reason we are foolish enough to make ourselves suffer and make the other person suffer is we forget that we and the other person are impermanent. Someday when we die we will lose all our possessions, our power, our family, everything. Our freedom, peace and joy in the present moment is the most important thing we have. But without an awakened understanding of impermanence it is not possible to be happy.
Some people do not even want to look at a person when they are alive, but when they die they write eloquent obituaries and make offerings of flowers. But at that point the person has died and cannot smell the fragrance of the flowers anymore. If we really understood and remembered that life was impermanent, we would do everything we could to make the other person happy right here and right now. If we spend twenty-four hours being angry at our beloved, it is because we are ignorant of impermanence.
"Angry in the ultimate dimension/I close my eyes." I close my eyes in order to practice visualization of my beloved one hundred or three hundred years from now. When you visualize yourself and your beloved in three hundred years' time, you just feel so happy that you are alive today and that your dearest is alive today. You open your eyes and all your anger has gone. You open your arms to embrace the other person and you practice: "Breathing in you are alive, breathing out I am so happy." When you close your eyes to visualize yourself and the other person in three hundred years' time, you are practicing the meditation on impermanence. In the ultimate dimension, anger does not exist.
Hatred is also impermanent. Although we may be consumed with hatred at this moment, if we know that hatred is impermanent we can do something to change it. A practitioner can take resentment and hatred and help it to disappear. Just like with anger, we close our eyes and think: where will we be in three hundred years? With the understanding of hatred in the ultimate dimension, it can evaporate in an instant.
Let Impermanence Nurture Love
Because we are ignorant and forget about impermanence, we don't nurture our love properly. When we first married our love was great. We thought that if we did not have each other we would not be able to live one more day. Because we did not know how to practice impermanence, after one or two years our love changed to frustration and anger. Now we wonder how we can survive one more day if we have to remain with the person we once loved so much. We decide there is no alternative: we want a divorce. If we live with the understanding of impermanence we will cultivate and nurture our love. Only then will it last. You have to nourish and look after your love for it to grow.
No Self
Impermanence is looking at reality from the point of view of time. No self is looking at reality from the point of view of space. They are two sides of reality. No self is a manifestation of impermanence and impermanence is a manifestation of no self. If things are impermanent they are without a separate self. If things are without a separate self, it means that they are impermanent. Impermanence means being transformed at every moment. This is reality. And since there is nothing unchanging, how can there be a permanent self, a separate self? When we say "self" we mean something that is always itself, unchanging day after day. But nothing is like that. Our body is impermanent, our emotions are impermanent, and our perceptions are impermanent. Our anger, our sadness, our love, our hatred and our consciousness are also impermanent.
So what permanent thing is there which we can call a self? The piece of paper these words are written on does not have a separate self. It can only be present when the clouds, the forest, the sun, the earth, the people who make the paper, and the machines are present. If those things are not present the paper cannot be present. And if we burn the paper, where is the self of paper?
Nothing can exist by itself alone. It has to depend on every other thing. That is called inter-being. To be means to inter-be. The paper inter-is with the sunshine and with the forest. The flower cannot exist by itself alone; it has to inter-be with soil, rain, weeds and insects. There is no being; there is only inter-being.
Looking deeply into a flower we see that the flower is made of non-flower elements. We can describe the flower as being full of everything. There is nothing that is not present in the flower. We see sunshine, we see the rain, we see clouds, we see the earth, and we also see time and space in the flower. A flower, like everything else, is made entirely of non-flower elements. The whole cosmos has come together in order to help the flower manifest herself. The flower is full of everything except one thing: a separate self or a separate identity.
The flower cannot be by herself alone. The flower has to inter-be with the sunshine, the cloud and everything in the cosmos. If we understand being in terms of inter-being, then we are much closer to the truth. Inter-being is not being and it is not non-being. Inter-being means at the same time being empty of a separate identity; empty of a separate self.
No self also means emptiness, a technical term in Buddhism which means the absence of a separate self. We are of the nature of no self, but that does not mean that we are not here. It does not mean that nothing exists. A glass can be empty or full of tea, but in order to be either empty or full the glass has to be there. So emptiness does not mean non-being and does not mean being either. It transcends all concepts. If you touch deeply the nature of impermanence, no self and inter-being, you touch the ultimate dimension, the nature of nirvana.
Who Are We?
We think of our body as our self or belonging to our self. We think of our body as me or mine. But if you look deeply, you see that your body is also the body of your ancestors, of your parents, of your children, and of their children. So it is not a "me"; it is not a "mine." Your body is full of everything else-limitless non-body elements-except one thing: a separate existence.
Impermanence has to be seen in the light of emptiness, of inter-being, and of non-self. These things are not negative. Emptiness is wonderful. Nagarjuna, the famous Buddhist teacher of the second century, said, "Thanks to emptiness, everything is possible."
You can see no non-self in impermanence, and impermanence in non-self. You can say that impermanence is no self seen from the angle of time, and non-self is impermanence seen from the angle of space. They are the same thing. That is why impermanence and non-self inter-are. If you do not see impermanence in non-self, that is not non-self. If you do not see non-self in impermanence, that's not really impermanence.
But that is not all. You have to see nirvana in impermanence and you have to see nirvana in non-self. If I draw a line on one side there will be impermanence and non-self, and on the other side there will be nirvana. That line may be helpful, although it can also be misleading. Nirvana means going beyond all concepts, even the concepts of no self and impermanence. If we have nirvana in no self and in impermanence, it means that we are not caught in no self and impermanence as ideas.
Nirvana
Impermanence and no self are not rules to follow given to us by the Buddha. They are keys to open the door of reality. The idea of permanence is wrong, so the teaching on impermanence helps us correct our view of permanence. But if we get caught in the idea of impermanence we have not realized nirvana. The idea of self is wrong. So we use the idea of non-self to cure it. But if we are caught in the idea of non-self then that is not good for us either. Impermanence and no self are keys to the practice. They are not absolute truths. We do not die for them or kill for them.
In Buddhism there are no ideas or prejudices that we kill for. We do not kill people simply because they do not accept our religion. The teachings of the Buddha are skillful means; they are not absolute truth. So we have to say that impermanence and no self are skillful means to help us come toward the truth; they are not absolute truth. The Buddha said, "My teachings are a finger pointing to the moon. Do not get caught in thinking that the finger is the moon. It is because of the finger that you can see the moon."
No self and impermanence are means to understand the truth; they are not the truth itself. They are instruments; they are not the ultimate truth. Impermanence is not a doctrine that you should feel you have to die for. You would never put someone in prison because they contradict you. You are not using one concept against another concept. These means are to lead us to the ultimate truth. Buddhism is a skillful path to help us; it is not a path of fanatics. Buddhists can never go to war, shedding blood and killing thousands of people on behalf of their religion.
Because impermanence contains within itself the nature of nirvana, you are safe from being caught in an idea. When you study and practice this teaching you free yourself from notions and concepts, including the concept of permanence and impermanence. This way, we arrive at freedom from suffering and fear. This is nirvana, the kingdom of God.
Extinction of Concept
We are scared because of our notions of birth and death, increasing and decreasing, being and non-being. Nirvana means extinction of all notions and ideas. If we can become free from these notions we can touch the peace of our true nature.
There are eight basic concepts that serve to fuel our fear. They are the notions of birth and death, coming and going, the same and different, being and non-being. These notions keep us from being happy. The teaching given to counteract these notions is called "the eight no's," which are no birth, no death, no coming, no going, not the same, not different, no being, no non-being.
Ending Notions of Happiness
Each of us has a notion of how we can be happy. It would be very helpful if we took the time to reconsider our notions of happiness. We could make a list of what we think we need to be happy: "I can only be happy if..." Write down the things you want and the things you do not want. Where did these ideas come from? Is it reality? Or is it only your notion? If you are committed to a particular notion of happiness you do not have much chance to be happy.
Happiness arrives from many directions. If you have a notion that it comes only from one direction, you will miss all of these other opportunities, because you want happiness to come only from the direction you want. You say, "I would rather die than marry anyone but her. I would rather die than lose my job, my reputation. I cannot be happy if I don't get that degree or that promotion or that house." You have put many conditions on your happiness. And then, even if you do have all your conditions met, you still won't be happy. You will just keep creating new conditions for your happiness. You will still want the higher degree, the better job and the more beautiful house.
A government can also believe that they know the only way to make a nation prosper and be happy. That government and nation may commit itself to that ideology for one hundred years or more. During that time its citizens can suffer so much. Anyone who disagrees or dares to speak against the government's ideas will be locked up. They might even be considered insane. You can transform your nation into a prison because you are committed to an ideology.
Please remember your notions of happiness may be very dangerous. The Buddha said happiness can only be possible in the here and now, so go back and examine deeply your notions and ideas of happiness. You may recognize that the conditions of happiness that are already there in your life are enough. Then happiness can be instantly yours.

Thich Nhat Hanh is a Zen teacher, poet and leader of the engaged Buddhist movement. A well-known anti-war activist in his native Vietnam, he was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by Martin Luther King, Jr. The author of more than forty books, he resides at Buddhist practice centers in France and Vermont.
Reprinted from No Fear, No Death: Comforting Wisdom for Life, by Thich Nhat Hanh, with permission of Riverhead Books, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 2003 by Thich Nhat Hanh.

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The Role of Beliefs in Relation to the Concept of Liberation.
by Venerable Traleg Rinpoche
First talk in a series of seven at the annual November Retreat,
held at Maitripa Contemplative Center, Victoria, Australia on 27th November 1999

Many people who come to meditation want to learn about Buddhist meditation but are often very skeptical and uneasy about the Buddhist philosophies that come with it, about certain aspects of the religious elements. People have the notion that Buddhist practice and meditation experiences can be separated from the belief systems in which these practices are embedded. When we come to a Buddhist retreat, people may be afraid of getting converted and they feel that would be seen as a terrible thing. In this day and age many people have this idea that a belief system in general, and religious belief systems in particular, are dangerous. As if someone who believes is dogmatic, not innovative or progressive, is a traditionalist, a conservative, someone with blinkers on and is someone whose mind is shut off from new thoughts and ideas, or that they simply believe but do not actually know, as if a believer is someone who remains a prisoner in their own tradition.
That is highly questionable. As soon as we embark on the practice of meditation we have to make use of certain Buddhist concepts in order to make sense of what we are doing. For example, when we do meditation we already have concepts of enlightenment, spiritual liberation, nirvana, ignorance, defilements and obscurations of the mind that inhibit the realization of our spiritual goal. As soon as we embark on practice, we are already making use of certain Buddhist conceptual tools. This is important to understand.
It is also true that because of what we believe in we may become dogmatic, opinionated and fundamentalist in holding or propounding one's beliefs. But that does not mean we can embark on the spiritual path without believing anything at all. We have to believe in certain fundamentals of spirituality. If we have no orientation we would have no idea about what we are trying to achieve, where we are going ,what kind of personal predicaments we are trying to overcome, or what psychological and spiritual conflicts we need to grapple with and understand. One has to have orientation according to a spiritual approach. We cannot say we should learn to dispense with all of our belief systems. We cannot approach our spiritual practices without approaching it from a particular perspective, a viewpoint.
When we discuss Buddhist meditation, Buddhist practice and Buddhist meditation experiences, we are discussing things from a particular perspective. We are not saying these things because we are Buddhists. We don't think Buddhism is the only way, or superior to all other religious or spiritual traditions. But the Buddhist approach to spirituality and Buddhist way of realizing ultimate truth or even discovering the sacredness of spiritual reality - all of these things can be attained only by adopting a particular viewpoint. This is why in Buddhism we talk about developing proper view - a Noble view - things that we believe in, must come from having adopted the proper noble view. The term in Pali is Samadhiti, in Sanskrit is Samardirshti and in Tibetan Yongpati dawa - meaning the proper noble view.
Instead of believing in nothing, one has to learn to see what should be discarded, jettisoned. We learn what we should stop believing in, spiritual things that may need to be discarded, and what we need to believe in, things can't be abandoned in, order to advance on the spiritual path. This is how we lean how to orient ourselves on the spiritual path. Liberation and our belief systems are intimately related. What we believe in has the ability to lead us to liberation, because having the proper view can steer us in the right direction. Improper view on the other hand, leads us to distortion of our spiritual goals and would only increase our delusions of the mind instead of overcoming our delusions. Improper view can increase our anger, our sense of superiority and pride and our delusions. So it is possible to believe in spiritual matters in a way which encourages our delusory mental states. It is important, therefore, that we overcome our delusions as part of our practice of meditation.
When we embark on the path we need to have proper orientation - which comes from having the correct view. The correct view is the opposite of having the incorrect view or ignoble view. To have the noble view is seen as the same as one's spiritual vehicle. It is the transport that we need to lead us from our samsaric condition, to liberate us, and finally, lead us to nirvana. There's no separation between the vehicle required to arrive at our spiritual destination and the views we need to inculcate. Instead of old views inhibiting us, and as a consequence, tying us to the limited condition of samsara, if we are able to cultivate and inculcate correct views then we find liberation. The views in themselves have the capacity to lead us to our ultimate spiritual destination. So views and liberation are not only compatible and complimentary, but having correct views will produce liberation.
So it is only incorrect views that we need to overcome. We should not be thinking meditation is all about getting rid of views. We do not have to transcend all viewpoints. If we have the idea that in order to achieve liberation we need to overcome all views because they are limiting, we cannot reach spiritual liberation, we cannot make progress on the spiritual path. Even if someone doesn't want to become a Buddhist, and only wants to practice meditation, they already think their life is incomplete. They already think their current situation lacks fulfillment, and that fulfillment can be found in spirituality, and spirituality will uplift them from their present state of being. To see like that already requires a lot of conceptual categories and that person already believes in varieties of things. It is not possible to simply drop what we believe in just like that.
It is possible to make use of our viewpoints in order to have better meditation experiences. When we are doing meditation we may think meditation experiences are independent from what we believe or independent of a viewpoint. Simply because a meditation experience is independent of our viewpoint and our beliefs, does not mean beliefs can be discarded. Beliefs can help us orient ourselves in the way that we can experience the things that we do. Beliefs can infact steer us in the right direction in order that we have the appropriate meditation experience. In that way you can see how closely these two are connected. And it is because of them, from them, through them, that we can make sense of experience. Otherwise how do we understand what is going on? Otherwise everything would be totally incomprehensible. At the same time, I am not saying that with use of viewpoints we can fully comprehend what is going on. It is just that without them we cannot make sense of experience at all.
For example, How do we try to understand meditation?
We understand it by reading literature that describes meditation experience. We are told meditation is about emptying the mind. Mind becomes agitated because of discursive thoughts and it is because of discursive thoughts that mind is trapped in the world of appearance, and that leads to us being separated or divorced from reality.
Without making use of conceptual tools we cannot attempt to make sense of meditative experience. We would not know what sort of mind-state is conducive to appropriate meditation experiences, the sort of mind-state which should be seen as confirming ones spiritual progress, or inappropriate experiences when one has gone astray. Some experiences have the appearance of being genuine meditative experiences but are infact false, mislead the meditator into confusion and produce false confidence about attainments. Here, in reality the meditative experience may have led the person astray.
In order to understand what is going on, we have to make use of our conceptual tools, to steer ourselves in the right direction and continue with our spiritual practice more purposefully. The noble view is connected to liberation because it leads to proper understanding, to insight, and from insight arises wisdom. Unless one has a correct view one does not have a proper understanding of spiritual matters.
First we have to have correct our conceptual understanding instead of thinking all concepts are defiling by nature and therefore have to be overcome. Via a proper understanding, proper concepts and thoughts, the correct framework, one is able to do meditation.
The correct understanding comes from becoming familiar with the teachings. We cannot separate Buddhist doctrine from Buddhist meditation experiences. Because Buddhist teachings have four characteristics:

1. The teachings have the quality of having the content of leading sentient beings to enlightenment
2. The words which express the meaning are devoid of any linguistic imperfections
3. The function of the teachings is to eliminate mental afflictions
4. The purpose of the teachings is the pacification of the suffering of beings.
By familiarizing oneself with the teachings which have these four characteristics, one progresses. Then these teachings don't remain abstract and are appropriated in the continuum of ones own experience. They become inseparable. Outer expressions of the teachings refer to written or spoken and inner expressions of the teachings refer to our own experiences.
That's why in Buddhism we have to practice meditation by trying to understand the teachings and by placing one's own experiences in the context of the teachings themselves and appreciate that they cannot be separated. The understanding that one develops from inculcating the teachings in one's own being is liberating in itself. It's not that one practices and then finds liberation, but digestion of the teachings is in itself the same as liberation.
This means that the teachings are important to us not because they were given by the Buddha, but because he realized the significance of the teachings and passed them on. The authority of the teachings pre-exists. It does not come from the fact that Buddha gave and endorsed those teachings, but because he realized the full content and significance of the teachings. He was not in a privileged position, and we, disadvantaged to access the content of the teachings, as if we have a distance from the direct teachings of the Buddha in terms of time and of our nature. But by developing the proper view, by developing proper understanding through the practice of meditation, we learn the significance of the content of the teachings. And as a consequence we become liberated. The teachings themselves represent liberation. When the teachings are fully understood, they do not remain on a conceptual level. Oneself and the teachings become inseparable and that is the goal - enlightenment.
Therefore, we have to appreciate the importance of developing the correct view in relation to meditation and the importance of having a comprehensive world view, of human nature, of our place in the scheme of things, and in terms of life, and one's own relations with the world we live in. All these things have to be taken into account in meditation, otherwise we only deal with one aspect of our life, otherwise our world will be fragmented - bits of this and that. Then we become confused.
There are competing world views and without being a Buddhist chauvinist and believing that Buddhism has the only truth, there doesn't have to be one worldview that is true and all others wrong. We approach it from a Buddhist point of view. Teachings are a raft across the river, the finger pointing at the moon - once you see the moon you don't have to look at the finger. But don't use this example as a reason to get rid of views. The necessity of the boat and the finger, the teachings, have become assimilated into one's being. They are there to remind oneself of the fact that these conceptual tools that we use, are like transport and as soon as one is in the vehicle one is on the journey. Then the effect has already taken place and one has already been liberated.

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The Wisdom in the Dark Emotions
By Miriam Greenspan

I was brought to the practice of mindfulness more than two decades ago by the death of my first child. Aaron died two months after he was born, never having left the hospital. Shortly after that, a friend introduced me to a teacher from whom I learned the basics of Vipassana meditation: how to breathe mindfully and meditate with "choiceless" awareness. I remember attending a dharma talk in a room full of fifty meditators. The teacher spoke about the Four Noble Truths. Life is inherently unsatisfactory, he said. The ego's restless desires are no sooner fulfilled than they find new objects. Craving and aversion breed suffering. One of his examples was waiting in line for a movie and then not getting in.
I asked: "But what if you're not suffering because of some trivial attachment? What if it's about something significant, like death? What if you're grieving because your baby was born with brain damage and died before he had a chance to live?" I wept openly, expecting that there, of all places, my tears would be accepted.
The teacher asked, "How long has your son been dead?" When I told him it had been two months, his response was swift: "Well then, that's in the past now, isn't it? It's time to let go of the past and live in the present moment."
I felt reprimanded for feeling sad about my son's death. The teacher's response baffled me. Live in the present? My present was suffused with a wrenching sorrow-a hole in my heart that bled daily. But the present moment, as he conceived of it, could be cleanly sliced away from and inured against this messy pain. Divested of grief, an emotionally sanitized "present moment" was served up as an antidote for my tears. However well meaning, the message was clear: Stop grieving. Get over it. Move on.
This is a familiar message. Its unintended emotional intolerance often greets those who grieve, especially if they do so openly. I call this kind of intolerance "emotion-phobia": a pervasive fear and reflexive avoidance of difficult emotions in oneself and/or others. This is accompanied by a set of unquestioned normative beliefs about the "negativity" of painful feelings.
Emotion-phobia is endemic to our culture and perhaps to patriarchal culture in general. You'll find it in sub-cultures as different as spiritual retreats, popular self-help books and psychiatric manuals. In fact, my teacher's supposedly Buddhist response was very much in line with the prevailing psychiatric view of grief. According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual IV (the "bible" of psychiatry), the patient who is grieving a death is allotted two months for "symptoms" such as sadness, insomnia and loss of appetite before being diagnosable with a "Major Depressive Disorder." Grief, perhaps the most inevitable of all human emotions, given the unalterable fact of mortality, is seen as an illness if it goes on too long. But how much is too long? My mother, a Holocaust survivor, grieved actively for the first decade of my life. Was this too long a grief for genocide? Time frames for our emotions are nothing if not arbitrary, but appearing in a diagnostic and statistical manual, they attain the ring of truth. The two month limit is one of many examples of institutional psychiatry's emotion-phobia.
Emotions like grief, fear and despair are as much a part of the human condition as love, awe and joy. They are our natural and inevitable responses to existence, so long as loss, vulnerability and violence come with the territory of being human. These are the dark emotions, but by dark, I don't mean that they are bad, unwholesome or pathological. I mean that as a culture we have kept these emotions in the dark-shameful, secret and unseen.
Emotion-phobia dissociates us from the energies of these emotions and tells us they are untrustworthy, dangerous and destructive. Like other traits our culture distrusts and devalues-vulnerability, for instance, and dependence-emotionality is associated with weakness, women and children. We tend to regard these painful emotions as signs of psychological fragility, mental disorder or spiritual defect. We suppress, intellectualize, judge or deny them. We may use our spiritual beliefs or practices to bypass their reality.
Few of us learn how to experience the dark emotions fully-in the body, with awareness-so we end up experiencing their energies in displaced, neurotic or dangerous forms. We act out impulsively. We become addicted to a variety of substances and/or activities. We become depressed, anxious or emotionally numb, and aborted dark emotions are at the root of these characteristic psychological disorders of our time. But it's not the emotions themselves that are the problem; it's our inability to bear them mindfully.
Every dark emotion has a value and purpose. There are no negative emotions; there are only negative attitudes towards emotions we don't like and can't tolerate, and the negative consequences of denying them. The emotions we call "negative" are energies that get our attention, ask for expression, transmit information and impel action. Grief tells us that we are all interconnected in the web of life, and that what connects us also breaks our hearts. Fear alerts us to protect and sustain life. Despair asks us to grieve our losses, to examine and transform the meaning of our lives, to repair our broken souls. Each of these emotions is purposeful and useful-if we know how to listen to them.
But if grief is barely tolerated in our culture, even less are fear and despair. The fact is we are all afraid and act as if we're not. We fear the sheer vulnerability of existence; we fear its unpredictability. When we are unable to feel our fear mindfully, we turn it into anger, psychosomatic ailments or a host of "anxiety disorders"-displacements of fears we can't feel or name.
According to experts, some 50 million people in this country suffer from phobias at some point in their lives, and millions more are diagnosed with other anxiety disorders. One reason is that we've lost touch with the actual experience of primal, natural fear. When fear is numbed, we learn little about what it's for-its inherent usefulness as an alarm system that we ignore at our peril. Benumbed fear is especially dangerous when it becomes an unconscious source of vengeance, violence and other destructive acts. We see this acted out on the world stage as much as in the individual psyche.
As for despair, how many among us have not experienced periods of feeling empty, desolate, hopeless, brooding over the darkness in our world? This is the landscape of despair. Judging from my thirty years of experience as a psychotherapist, I would say that despair is common, yet we don't speak of despair anymore. We speak of clinical depression, serotonin-deficiency, biochemical disorder and the new selective serotonin-reuptake inhibitors. We treat the "illness" with a host of new medications. In my view, "depression" is the word we use in our highly medicalized culture for a condition of chronic despair-despair that is stuck in the body and toxified by our inability to bear it mindfully. When we think of all despair as a mental disorder or a biochemical illness, we miss the spiritual metamorphosis to which it calls us.
In retrospect, a more helpful answer from my meditation teacher (and one more in line with the Buddha's teachings) might have been, If you are grieving, do so mindfully. Pay attention to your grief. Stop and listen to it. Befriend it and let it be. The dark emotions are profound but challenging spiritual teachers, like the Zen master who whacks you until you develop patience and spiritual discipline. When grief shattered my heart after Aaron's death, that brought with it an expansion, the beginning of my experience of a Self larger than my broken ego. Grieving mindfully-without recourse to suppression, intellectualization or religious dogmatism-made me a happier person than I'd ever been.
What I learned by listening closely to grief was a transformational process I call "the alchemy of the dark emotions." Many years after Aaron's death, after a second radiantly healthy child and a third who was born with a mysterious neuromotor disorder, I began to write about these alchemies-from grief to gratitude, fear to joy, and despair to faith-that I had experienced in my own life and witnessed countless times in my work as a psychotherapist.
The alchemy of the dark emotions is a process that cannot be forced, but it can be encouraged by cultivating certain basic emotional skills. The three basic skills are attending to, befriending and surrendering to emotions that make us uncomfortable. Attending to our dark emotions is not just noticing a feeling and then distancing ourselves from it. It's about being mindful of emotions as bodily sensations and experiencing them fully. Befriending emotion is how we extend our emotional attention spans. Once again, this is a body-friendly process-getting into the body, not away from it into our thoughts. At the least, it's a process of becoming aware of how our thoughts both trigger emotions and take us away from them. Similarly, surrender is not about letting go but about letting be. When you are open to your heart's pain and to your body's experience of it, emotions flow in the direction of greater healing, balance and harmony.
Attending to, befriending and surrendering to grief, we are surprised to discover a profound gratitude for life. Attending to, befriending and surrendering to fear, we find the courage to open to our vulnerability and we are released into the joy of knowing that we can live with and use our fear wisely. Attending to, befriending and surrendering to despair, we discover that we can look into the heart of darkness in ourselves and our world, and emerge with a more resilient faith in life.
Because we are all pretty much novices at this process, we need to discipline ourselves to be mindful and tolerant of the dark emotions. This is a chaotic, non-linear process, but I have broken it down to seven basic steps: 1) intention, 2) affirmation, 3) sensation, 4) contextualization, 5) the way of non-action, 6) the way of action and 7) the way of surrender.
Intention is the means by which the mind, heart and spirit are engaged and focused. Transforming the dark emotions begins when we set our intention on using our grief, fear and despair for the purpose of healing. It is helpful to ask yourself: What is my best intention with regard to the grief, fear and despair in my life? What would I want to learn or gain from this suffering?
The second step in using the dark emotions for growth is affirming their wisdom. This means changing the way we think about how we feel, and developing and cultivating a positive attitude toward challenging feelings.
Emotional intelligence is a bodily intelligence, so you have to know how to listen to your body. The step I call "sensation" includes knowing how to sense and name emotions as we experience them in the body. We need to become more familiar and friendly with the actual physical sensations of emotional energy. Meditation, T'ai chi, yoga and other physical practices that cultivate mindfulness are particularly useful. How does your body feel when you are sad, fearful or despairing? What kinds of stories does your mind spin about these emotions? What happens when you simply observe these sensations and stories, without trying to understand, analyze or change anything?
In step four, contextualization, you acquaint yourself with the stories you usually tell yourself about your emotional suffering, and then place them in a broader social, cultural, global or cosmic context. In enlarging your personal story, you connect it to a larger story of grief, fear or despair in the world. This gets us out of the isolation and narcissism of our personal history, and opens us to transforming our suffering into compassion.
Step five, the way of non-action, is the skill that psychologists call "affect tolerance." This step extends our ability to befriend the pain of the dark emotions in the body. When you can tolerate the pain of grief, fear and despair without acting prematurely to escape it, you are practicing the way of non-action. Again, it is helpful to meditate on your emotions with the intention of really listening to them. What does your grief, fear or despair ask of you? In meditation, listen to the answers that come from your heart, rather than from your analytic mind.
The dark emotions ask us to act in some way. While the way of non-action builds our tolerance for dark emotional energy, step six is about finding an action or set of actions that puts this energy to good use. In the way of action, we act not in order to distract ourselves from emotion but in order to use its energy with the intention of transformation. The dark emotions call us to find the right action, to act with awareness and to observe the transformations that ensue, however subtle. Action can be strong medicine in times of trouble. If you are afraid, help someone who lives in fear. For example, volunteer at a battered women's shelter. If you're sad and lonely, work for the homeless. If you're struggling with despair, volunteer at a hospice. Get your hands dirty with the emotion that scares you. This is one of the best ways to find hope in despair, to find connection in a shared grief and to discover the joy of working to create a less broken world. Finally, step seven, the way of surrender, is the art of conscious emotional flow. Emotional flow is something that happens automatically when you know how to attend to and befriend your emotions. When we are in flow with emotion, the energy becomes transformative, opening us to unexpected vistas.
When we look deeply into the dark emotions in our lives, we find both the universality of suffering and how much suffering is unnecessary, the result of social inequities, oppression, large scale violence and trauma. Our awareness both of the universality of suffering and of its socially created manifestations is critical to the healing journey. Knowing how our grief, fear and despair may be connected to larger emotional currents and social conditions de-pathologizes these emotions, allowing us to accept and tolerate them more fruitfully, and with more compassion for ourselves and others. We begin to see the dark emotions as messengers, information-bearers and teachers, rather than "negative" energies we must subdue, tame or deny. We tend to think of our "negative" emotions as signs that there's something wrong with us. But the deepest significance of the feelings is simply our shared human vulnerability. When we know this deeply, we begin to heal in a way that connects rather than separates us from the world.
Miriam Greenspan is the author of A New Approach to Women and Therapy. Her forthcoming book, Healing Through the Dark Emotions: the Wisdom of Grief, Fear and Despair, will be published in January by Shambhala.
From "The Wisdom in the Dark Emotions" by Miriam Greenspan. Shambhala Sun, January 2003.

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The Wisdom of the Body & the Search for the Self


From the impermanent to the heroic to the sacred-The Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche on how the view of body changes and evolves in the three vehicles of Buddhism.
From the Buddhist perspective, our spiritual journey begins here-with this very body and mind. Who we are now consists of these two, body and mind, and who we might become will also be expressed through body and mind. Yet what is the true nature of these two?
From the Buddhist perspective, our spiritual journey begins here-with this very body and mind. Who we are now consists of these two, body and mind, and who we might become will also be expressed through body and mind. Yet what is the true nature of these two?

Our present experience of life can be viewed as a long dream, arising from our lack of understanding about who we truly are and the actual nature of our world. What we usually refer to as a "dream" is only a short-term fantasy that we wake up from every morning. The real dream we are having is our "waking life," a delusion that continues on and on. When we are in this dream and do not recognize that we are dreaming, then everything we see appears as solid and real, and we do not see any possibilities for transforming our painful experiences. However, when we recognize that we are dreaming, then everything becomes spacious, transparent and free, and all of our confusion and suffering can be easily transformed.

All the teachings of the Buddha are taught for the purpose of developing the penetrating knowledge that sees through this illusion and wakes us up. It is important to realize that these teachings do not constitute a religion in the conventional sense. Rather, they represent a genuine science of mind, a science of insight that uncovers the pure nature of the mind and world that we experience. They also portray a philosophy of life-an approach to life that deals with its meaning and helps us understand how we can overcome the suffering of the world.

When we say that Buddhism is a "science," we are talking about going into the depths of our inner world using the methods of the path to explore the two basic states of confusion and wisdom. Our resulting understanding of mind brings us greater clarity about how to lead our lives effectively and meaningfully. The spiritual journey is nothing more and nothing less than this.

We may not accept the view that we are "dreaming." However, most of us recognize a personal sense of self, a familiar face, so to speak, that looks out on the world and reacts habitually to each experience. This sense of self, of "I," pervades each moment, each interaction, perpetuating itself infinitely. Yet how often or how closely do we look at it?

The two aspects of this self are always together: body is the ground for mind, the stabilizing element that brings mind to the present. The embodied mind can settle, be tamed and be trained, whereas mind without body can go anywhere in an instant. It is when we work with our mind that we overcome whatever we experience physically or mentally as negative or disturbing. So when we discover the actual nature of the body, we are on a genuine path to experiencing the pure nature of mind and its world.

The Body in the Three Yanas

The Buddhist path is divided into three yanas, or vehicles, which represent levels or progressive stages of Buddhist teachings. The Hinayana focuses on individual liberation and the teachings of the Four Noble Truths and dependent origination. The Mahayana focuses on the teachings of emptiness, compassion and buddhanature, and introduces the ideal of the bodhisattva, who is dedicated to the liberation of all sentient beings. The Vajrayana (also called Tantrayana or Mantrayana) is known as the "diamond vehicle," and also the "path of skillful means." By taking the state of fruition as the path, this "rapid vehicle" can result in liberation in one lifetime.

Each of the yanas presents a specific view of the body and corresponding methods for investigating and discovering its essence.

The Hinayana view of body focuses on the relative existence of one's own body as a product of karma and as an impure and impermanent collection of aggregates. The body is taken as an object of meditation to induce the state of renunciation and spur the renunciate to the full state of cessation.

The Mahayana view of body, from the absolute point of view, focuses on the nonexistence of both the body itself and the mind that fixates on the body as a self. From the perspective of relative truth, the Mahayana views the body as inseparable appearance and emptiness. This illusion-like body becomes the basis for understanding the suffering of samsara more deeply and the ground for cultivating a genuine heart of love and compassion for all sentient beings. Moreover, the Mahayana meditation practices take not only one's own body as an object of consideration, but also the bodies of all sentient beings.

The Vajrayana view of body is that the state of enlightenment is present within one's physical form at this very moment. Body, speech and mind are regarded as sacred and are seen as the three kayas, or bodies, of buddha-primordially pure expressions of wisdom and compassion.

By looking at the view of the body from the perspective of the three yanas, beginning with the Hinayana, we can see how, through the application of methods of investigation such as the practice of the four foundations of mindfulness and analytical meditation, we can expose this "self" further and further-the self that is pure fabrication, the no-self that is appearance-emptiness, and the state of primordial purity manifesting as the three buddha kayas.

The Four Foundations of Mindfulness

The Four Foundations of Mindfulness are meditations that cultivate a correct knowledge of the natures of four specific objects: the body, feeling or sensation, the mind and phenomena. (Phenomena here refers to the six objects of our six sensory perceptions: forms, sounds, smells, tastes, touch and mental objects.) In this context, knowledge is primarily that which correctly recognizes relative truth, or the relative characteristics of these four things. However, on the basis of this, there is a gradual development of the higher knowledge that recognizes absolute truth. The Hinayana emphasizes these four mindfulness practices as meditations upon the nature of relative reality, while the Mahayana approach makes use of these practices as a way of realizing the absolute truth.

These four meditations work with the five collections of physical and mental components (known as the five skandhas, or aggregates) that comprise sentient beings: physical forms, sensations, perception, concept or mental formations, and consciousnesses. Among these five, the form skandha relates to the body and the next four are all related to mind. In short, we can say that there are two observed objects of self-clinging: body and mind.

Essentially, the practice of mindfulness consists of investigating these individual objects of meditation in order to discriminate between or distinguish the actual characteristics of the things themselves from the abstractions we create in dependence upon them. For example, the abstraction or concept of "my body" can be distinguished from the aggregate of body itself. The actual body is a physical thing composed of various elements, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with my name for it, my image of it, and so on.

The Hinayana Approach: Reversing Attachment to Self

From the Hinayana point of view, the body is the basis for the self-clinging that is said to be the cause of suffering. At the same time, the body is viewed as the main basis for the path that leads to the transcendence, or cessation, of suffering. Thus, the body is both a fundamental cause of suffering as well as that which suffers; in addition, it is a fundamental cause of liberation because it is that which engages in the path of transcendence.

In a basic way, the mindfulness of body relates to our fundamental sense of existence. Due to our samsaric tendencies, our existence is normally not very stable or grounded; it is very wild, like a mad elephant. For that reason, at the first stage of mindfulness practice, we work with the existence of form. In particular, we work with three different levels of form: the outer form of our physical existence, the inner form of our perceptions, and the innermost form, which is related to the Mahayana understanding of the selflessness of body.

We work with the outer form of our physical existence by bringing our complete attention to the physical body, which is the primary basis for our clinging. When we work with mindfulness of body, we work with the basic root of emotions, which is attachment. The method of practice is to feel the body within the state of calmness, or shamatha. We simply experience the skandha of form without adding anything to it-without adding any labels, judgments or thoughts, such as, "This is my body," "This is a good body," "This is a beautiful body," "It is so healthy," "It is so unhealthy," and so forth. The instruction here is just to drop it all. At this point, we are simply being open. By bringing body into the present, we come into contact with what body actually is, rather than continuing to think about what it actually is.

What we are working toward is seeing the actual nature of the outer form of our body, without concern for speculations, such as, "Is the body mind or matter? Is the body a projection of mind or not?" At this level, we should forget about such philosophical or theoretical divisions. The Buddha teaches this basic approach in the sutras when he says such things as, "When you see, just see. When you smell, just smell. When you touch, just touch. When you feel, just feel."

Once we are able to simply sit and be with our body, then it is possible for us to have a sense of the profound nature of our physical existence. That experience takes us to the inner state of physical existence, allowing us to see the true nature of our body, the reality of the relative existence of self. At this stage, we experience the impermanent nature of our body, which is the subtle experience of the mindfulness of body. It is said that as a result of this technique, we begin to feel our body in a way that is completely different from our ordinary experience. We actually begin to feel the empty nature of the body. The body naturally leads us to the experience of shunyata, or emptiness. Usually, we experience only the labels we impose on our body. When we look at ourselves in a mirror, we see nothing more than our conceptual mask. What is the problem with putting on this mask? We forget that we are wearing a mask and we scare ourselves. Practicing mindfulness of body is a way to experience the true self-the true body-without any barrier.

Reversing Attachment to Body

In the Hinayana tradition, mindfulness of body is also practiced using the method known as the "meditation on ugliness," or the "meditation on that which is repulsive." The object of one's meditation, in this case, includes both one's own body and the bodies of others. Traditionally, one reflects on how our bodies are impure or unclean, to counteract the perception of our bodies as pure, and the five skandhas are viewed as "aggregates of filth." This meditation engenders a sense of disgust toward the body and strengthens our sense of renunciation, of wishing to be free of samsara.

This attitude of revulsion is generated in stages by means of the "ten perceptions of the body." The first of these is the perception of the body as mortal, the recognition that death could occur at any time. The next meditation works with the perception of the body as being ugly or gross by reflecting on all of the unpleasant things that are inside our body, such as blood, lymph, phlegm and other foul and revolting things. The remaining eight perceptions are based on considering what happens to a body after death.

Although we are very attached to our bodies right now, if we think about these a great deal, then our perception of our bodies will change. Essentially, we are attempting to divest ourselves of whatever it is that we are fixating on as "I" or as a self through contemplating the dissolution of the body, until finally we realize that there is no basis in the body for the concept "I." This meditation should only be done under the guidance of a qualified Buddhist teacher.

Contemplating impermanence is another method for reversing our attachment to the body and inspiring us to take advantage of the precious opportunity of this life that allows us to cut attachment. When we reflect on death and impermanence, we reflect on the certainty of death as well as the uncertainty of the moment of death. We also contemplate the kinds of experiences we will have at the time of death, and what will truly help us through them. We consider what we are leaving behind-our physical body, our family and friends, all our possessions and power, and even our teachers.

When we reflect in this way, we see that this reality is not frozen-it is flowing like a river. Every moment is new, fresh and profoundly awakening. We can take full advantage of this moment or let it slip from our hands, just as each moment in the past has slipped away. That is seeing impermanence: seeing the transitory nature of our lives and the fragile nature of our existence.

The Mahayana Approach: Selfless Body

The Mahayana approach to mindfulness of body is not based on perceiving the body as impure or as pure, or on perceiving its composite nature. At this stage, the practice of mindfulness of body is closely related to the notion of selflessness-the nonexistence of body-rather than to the existence of body.

As far as the Mahayana path is concerned, there is no solid physical body that actually exists outside of our mind. The way we experience the existence of our body is simply mind's projection. At this stage, we discover a much deeper level of physical presence, and our mindfulness practice consists of seeing the true nature of that experience. As we approach the level of absolute reality, we see more clearly the relative state of mind, body and mindfulness.

At the same time, the Mahayana views the body in the same way as someone who wishes to cross a river views a boat. It is immediately useful and beneficial, if used properly. Shantideva, one of the greatest exponents of the bodhisattva path, who lived in India in the seventh and eight centuries, says in his classic work the Bodhicharyavatara:

Upon finding the boat of human birth now, cross the great river of suffering.
O fool, there is no time for sleep, for this boat is hard to catch again.

Dream and Emptiness

That the physical world is not necessarily solid and real can be understood through the example of a dream. When we are dreaming, there is a subject, an object and the action between them. As long as we remain in the dream state, we experience a real world, real phenomena and a real body. However, when we look back at last night's dream from the point of view of today, we see that the reality we experienced in our dream does not exist.

Furthermore, if we look back at both last night's dream and yesterday's waking experiences, then we can see that they are equally nonexistent-as far as today is concerned. There is no good reason to say that yesterday was more solid and real than last night's dream, except that we cling to our dreamlike experience of yesterday more than to our experience of last night's dream. Therefore, in the Mahayana path, our whole experience of the body, our entire experience of the physical world, is simply a projection or a production of our karmic mind, and that experience exists only as long as we remain in this dream of samsara.

It is the view not only of Buddhist metaphysics, but also of Western science in general and modern physics in particular, that our ordinary sense faculties, such as the eye consciousness, do not see the subtle nature of the objects we perceive. In a similar way, we mistakenly believe that this life's appearance of our own body is truly existent and real and that our confusion and suffering are real.

The vipashyana (insight) meditation on the emptiness of form taught by the Buddha in the Heart Sutra, says, "Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Form is no other than emptiness, emptiness is no other than form. . ." Maintaining the discipline of seeing the dreamlike nature of our body and bringing our mind back to the awareness of that experience is the mindfulness of body in the Mahayana path.

Method of Practice: Analytical Meditation

There is no way we can really practice mindfulness of body, in the Mahayana sense, without understanding and practicing analytical meditation. In the Mahayana, this meditation is performed by searching for the "self" within the body, searching for exactly what we think of as "I." For example, when you have a headache, you say, "Oh, I have a headache." You do not say, "Oh, body has a headache." And when you cut yourself in the kitchen you say, "I cut myself." This shows how we perceive our body as being the self.

One practices this analysis by going through the entire body, dividing it into fragments, and asking in an experiential way: "Is any part or all of my hair my self?" "Is either eye my self, or both eyes?" "Are my eyelashes my self?" "Is my ear my self?" "Is my nose my self?" And so on. The purpose of this is to reverse the misapprehension of the body as a self. If the self were a real part of the body, then you would find it through this type of search. In fact, you do not find any "self," and so you come to know that neither the whole aggregate of form nor any part of it is the self. Through this examination, you resolve that the body is not a basis for the self.

Interdependence and Existence

From the Buddhist point of view, whatever is dependent on something else for its existence has no true existence in and of itself. Because the appearance of something that we take to be a self depends on the coming together of all five skandhas, it exists only interdependently. This is similar to the formation of a "tent" made up of five matchsticks. The first matchstick can only stand upright when the other four are present and support it. When all five matchsticks are present and support each other, then they can form the appearance of a tent. In the same way, the illusion of self can only exist on the basis of all five aggregates, with their attendant causes and conditions, coming together.

The self that we experience coming from the past moment to the present moment to the future moment is like the reflection of a moon in clear water. The reflection is remarkably vivid, yet there is no moon in the water. In the same way, the "self" we experience seems to be real and existent, but when we look at it closely, it is just empty form. When all the causes and conditions of self come together, the five skandhas and so on, then you have the appearance of a self that continues from past to future. But that appearance, like the moon's reflection, is without any true, independent self and is therefore emptiness.

Appearance-Emptiness

If this is so, then how do these forms exist? How does this body exist? The body exists in the form of a collection of countless atoms or subtle particles. However, from the point of view of Mahayana analysis, when we examine form, deeply looking for these particles, no matter how precise or refined our analysis, we will not be able to find the subtle particles that theoretically compose the coarser elements. We will not be able to find a subtle particle that itself is partless-that cannot be broken down further.

So if these subtle particles do not inherently exist, how could something more coarse ever inherently exist? This is similar to the analysis of modern science, which likewise finds no solidly existing particles. However, scientists still refer to energy fields, quarks and strings, which is a more comfortable way of describing emptiness.

Similarly, when we analyze "mind," no solid, truly existent mind can be found. Mind itself has many parts, and each part is momentary. Consequently, both bases of self-clinging-body and mind-are actually empty yet appearing form. This is what we call "illusion," and all appearances are like this-empty-appearing forms, like mirages. In the same way, when we are experiencing mental suffering, it seems very solid and real, and when we are experiencing happiness, it also seems very solid and real. However, when we look at these states, nothing solid is actually there.

If we are viewing all phenomena as being like illusions and dreams, then in post-meditation we need to engender dream-like compassion toward illusory beings, who are tormented by taking appearances to be real. We extend our compassion to all samsaric beings, exerting ourselves in pacifying their suffering and bringing to them the wisdom that will end their illusion.

We have to remember that the analysis we are doing here is from the point of view of ultimate reality, not from the point of view of relative truth or conventional reality. From the perspective of the absolute nature, we say that things are empty and do not have true existence. However, from the perspective of relative reality, from the conventional point of view, things do exist in the nature of interdependence.

The Vajrayana Approach: Sacred Self

According to the view of Vajrayana, the physical existence of form is sacred. In the Vajrayana, the fundamental nature of our body, speech and mind is recognized as primordially pure and enlightened. When their pure nature is known and manifest, they are acknowledged as vajra (indestructible) body, vajra speech and vajra mind.

In this tradition, a practitioner works directly with his or her body and mind using a variety of skillful methods to swiftly transform them into the nature of enlightened body and mind-right on the spot. Therefore, in order to find enlightenment, it is not necessary to renounce the world (the outer body) or one's own body and mind, and leave them behind, as practiced in the Hinayana vehicle, or to seal all appearances with the theoretical view of emptiness, as in the Mahayana. Enlightenment is already right here, within our subtle mind and body, and there is no need to search for liberation outside. We do not have to wait for eons in order to experience a pure buddha realm. In one moment, we can directly cut through all our clinging and enter the vajra world. Therefore, in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, the view of Vajrayana is considered the highest, and its meditation is regarded as supreme.

Three Stages of Body and Mind

Penetrating the nature of mind and body is emphasized equally in the Vajrayana. In the tantric scriptures, such as Hevajra and Kalachakra, the state of mind and body are generally taught to exist in three stages: coarse, subtle and utmost subtle.

The three stages of mind are: 1) the coarse mind-kleshas (defilements) and thoughts; 2) the subtle mind-mind that is resting in basic nondual emptiness; and 3) the utmost subtle mind-absolute bodhichitta (awakened mind or heart), freedom from all conceptualization.

The three stages of body are: 1) the coarse body-the skandhas, the ayatanas and dhatus; 2) the subtle body-the prana, nadis and bindu; and 3) the utmost subtle body-the vajra body.

The coarse body is our relative, physical body that is composed of and functions through the five skandhas, eighteen dhatus and twelve ayatanas (the ayatanas and dhatus comprise all the elements of the perceptual processes: the six sense organs, including mind, their objects, and the corresponding consciousnesses). From the Vajrayana perspective, this body is seen as the basis or fundamental ground of transmutation.

The subtle body, which pervades the coarse body, consists of three elements: a network of channels, or nadis; the subtle wind energies, or prana, which move through these pathways; and the essence of the physical body, known as bindu. By means of practicing with these three, one accomplishes the three vajras-the indestructible nature of the three aspects of enlightened body, speech and mind.

Thus, in the tantric view, the ground of body is full of pathways or highways (nadis) upon which the horse of prana circulates, and the wealth of subtle and pure energies (bindus) is enjoyed by the accomplished rider. Conversely, it is taught that the dualistic mind is like a person without legs who rides on the blind horse of prana.

The utmost subtle body is the genuine body of the spontaneously present, indivisible three vajras. This is the resultant form in the Vajrayana, and it is the purest form of nadi, prana and bindu, which are the basis or support of the unchanging three kayas, or bodies, of buddhahood. The dharmakaya, or "body of truth," relates to vajra mind; the sambhogakaya, or "body of enjoyment," relates to vajra speech; and the nirmanakaya, or "emanation body," relates to vajra body.

Through the methods of the Vajrayana, one takes the basic ground, which is our very state of physical existence, into the experience of sacred world. All the interdependent appearances of mind and phenomena are experienced with sacred vision, without abandoning or adopting anything. We work with the vastness of relative reality by seeing it in its true state, the state of sacred world. Thus, the relative world is seen as a sacred mandala, or buddhafield.

Awakening

This progressive and very personal three-yana journey leads us beyond the basic duality of existence and nonexistence to the indestructible, awakened state that transcends all conceptuality. In the first stage of our spiritual journey, we look at the existence of our samsaric body and samsaric world as unclean, as something to abandon or renounce. In the second stage, through the methods of the Mahayana path, we discover our basic potential, our fundamental state of liberation. This is actually a rediscovery of our genuine self, of who we really are. Once we have rediscovered that self, we enter the path of the tantras, the path where body and mind arise as the spontaneous expression of the continuity of our own vajra heart.

Ordinarily we cling to our bodies like dreamers, clinging unawares to illusory appearances. But when we recognize that we are dreaming, all the solidity of the dream, including our own body and the bodies of others, is no longer there. When we reach that point, we awaken from the long dream of samsara. With the wisdom of knowing who we truly are, absolute and relative compassion will manifest naturally toward all sentient beings and benefit them extensively. That is what we call achieving complete enlightenment. ©

The Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche was born at the new Rumtek monastery in Sikkim, India, where he studied the traditional Buddhist scholastic curriculum. Today, he lives in Seattle and is founder and president of Nalandabodhi and Nithartha International, and head teacher of the Nitartha Institute. His most recent book is Wild Awakening: The Heart of Mahamudra and Dzogchen.
The Wisdom of the Body and the Search for the Self by Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche, Shambhala Sun, September 2004

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True Stories About Sitting
by Donna Rockwell

A decade ago I found myself learning how to meditate. I took to meditation right away, and it transformed my relationship to life. I began to question all sorts of things, including my concept of self. Later, when I enrolled at the Center for Humanistic Studies in Detroit for a graduate degree in humanistic and clinical psychology, I knew the topic I would choose for my thesis: meditation. I read much of the popular dharma literature and felt I came to know many of the authors. Yet I often wondered, what were their meditative journeys like? Had they squirmed in meditation halls like I did when I first began sitting? I decided to investigate by asking Zen teacher Charlotte Joko Beck and Insight Meditation Society teachers Joseph Goldstein, Sylvia Boorstein and Sharon Salzberg my thesis question: "What is the experience of self-discovery through meditation?"
Charlotte Joko Beck
How old were you when you started meditating?
Beck: Thirty-nine, forty, somewhere in there.
Did you have any realization through meditation?
No. Of course we have realizations, but that's not really what drives practice.
Will you say more about that?
I meet all sorts of people who've had all sorts of experiences and they're still confused and not doing very well in their life. Experiences are not enough. My students learn that if they have so-called experiences, I really don't care much about hearing about them. I just tell them, "Yeah, that's O.K. Don't hold onto it. And how are you getting along with your mother?" Otherwise, they get stuck there. It's not the important thing in practice.
And may I ask you what is?
Learning how to deal with one's personal, egotistic self. That's the work. Very, very difficult.
There seems to be a payoff, though, because you feel alive instead of dead.
I wouldn't say a payoff. You're returning to the source, you might say-what you always were, but which was severely covered by your core belief and all its systems. And when those get weaker, you do feel joy. I mean, then it's no big deal to do the dishes and clean up the house and go to work and things like that.
Doing the dishes is a great meditation-especially if you hate it…
Well, if your mind wanders to other things while you're doing the dishes, just return it to the dishes. Meditation isn't something special. It's not a special way of being. It's simply being aware of what is going on.
Doesn't sitting meditation prepare the ground to do that?
Sure. It gives you the strength to face the more complex things in your life. You're not meeting anything much when you're sitting except your little mind. That's relatively easy when compared to some of the complex situations we have to live our way through. Sitting gives you the ability to work with your life.
I read your books.
Oh you read. Well, give up reading, O.K.?
Give up reading your books?
Well, they're all right. Read them once and that's enough. Books are useful. But some people read for fifty years, you know. And they haven't begun their practice.
How would you describe self-discovery?
You're really just an ongoing set of events: boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, one after the other. The awareness is keeping up with those events, seeing your life unfolding as it is, not your ideas of it, not your pictures of it. See what I mean?
How would you define meditation?
Awareness of what is, mentally, physically.
Can you please complete the following sentences for me? "The experience of meditation is…"
"…awareness of what is."
"Meditative awareness has changed my life in the following way…"
"It has changed my life in the direction of it being more harmonious, more satisfactory, more joyful and more useful probably." Though I don't think much in those terms. I don't wake up in the morning thinking I'm going to be useful. I really think about what I'm going to have for breakfast.
"The one thing awareness has taught me that I want to share with all people is that…
I don't want to share anything with all people.
Who do you want to share with?
Nobody. I just live my life. I don't go around wanting to share something. That's extra.
Could you talk about that a little bit?
Well, there's a little shade of piety that creeps into practice. You know, "I have this wonderful practice, I want to share it with everyone." There's an error in that. You could probably figure it out yourself.
I think that's something I need to learn.
You and I know there's nothing that's going to make me run away faster than somebody who comes around and wants to be helpful. You know what I mean? I don't want people to be helpful to me. I just want to live my own life.
Do you think you share yourself?
Yeah, but who's that?
Joseph Goldstein
When did you start meditating?
Goldstein: I was in the Peace Corps in Thailand, and I started going to a temple in Bangkok where Western Buddhist monks were leading discussion groups. Finally one of the monks said, "Why don't you try meditating?" I didn't know anything about it, so he just gave me some very simple instructions, like to watch the breath. I tried it, and it was just amazing-not that I was such a good meditator, but the idea that there was a way to look inside in a systematic way was tremendously exciting to me. It was something I'd been looking for without knowing it.
So Buddhist meditation took you a step beyond philosophy to show you...
To show me a way to observe the workings of the mind, not simply to think about things.
Can you describe for me your early experiences on the cushion?
I had a hard time doing vipassana meditation in the beginning. I was very enthusiastic about it but my mind wandered all the time. I would sit down and an hour later I would get up having thought the whole hour. But I never had any doubts, even though it was not easy to do. I knew that this was what I wanted to do, so that kept me going.
How does the experience of meditation progress?
I think you could describe it in different phases. The first phase is just seeing that there is a technique-even one as simple as coming back to the breath-and practicing doing that. That's the hard work of meditation, coming back again and again and again.
The second phase is when the mind develops some concentration and there is stillness and steadiness and ease. It all flows by itself; there's not that same effort. That's a wonderful opening, because the meditation gets to be very enjoyable and is not a chore anymore. The mind/body feels very light and fluid and the thoughts are no longer predominant. They still come and go, but they don't have the same power to drag you away.
The third phase is building on that concentration and using it, developing insight into the actual workings of the mind. So it's not just abiding in the calm, but seeing and observing. You see the unsatisfying nature of arising phenomena, because they just all pass away, very momentarily. And you begin to see what in Buddhism is called the emptiness of self. Those are insights you begin to see with greater and greater clarity.
What does meditation do for you?
Usually we're imprisoned by the things we identify with. We all have well-established habits of thought, emotion, reaction and judgement, and without the keen awareness of practice, we're just acting out these patterns. When they arise, we're not aware they've arisen. We get lost in them, identify with them, act on them-so much of our life is just acting out patterns.
Bringing awareness to bear on what's arising opens up an incredible space of simply seeing the thoughts come and go. That allows us to make wise choices-which ones to act on, which ones to let go of. When we do that, we get tremendously more creative with our lives.
Can you please complete these following sentences: "The experience of meditation is..."
"...developing the quality of awareness and the wisdom and compassion that come from it." That kind of sums it up.
"The one thing meditation has taught me that I want to share with all people is that..."
"...it's possible to come to a place of peace and happiness in one's life. Peace, happiness and understanding."
"The greatest way in which meditation has changed my life is that..."
"...I've become more aware of the nature of my mind-how it creates suffering and how it can be free."
Sylvia Boorstein
What brought you to the path of meditation?
Boorstein: My husband went off to do a retreat and came home and said, "Syl, this is great. You should try it." I did a two-week retreat and I did not have amazing meditation states. Mainly, I had a headache and my body hurt a lot. But my headache finally went away and I calmed down a little bit.
Two amazing things happened on that retreat. One was that I got tremendously buoyed by the dharma I heard. It was such good news to hear that as challenging as life inevitably is, it is possible to live with a peaceful and benevolent heart. That was one event: I was inspired by dharma, fell in love with it, actually.
Then, at the end of the two weeks when I called home, I found out from my husband that my father had been diagnosed with untreatable cancer. I felt a terrible sadness, but I didn't fall through the floor like you usually do when you hear news like that. I realized that, one way or another, I was going to have to do the next several years with my father and it would be a practice. And we did do it. We paid attention to it, he and I, not in denial about it. It was difficult a lot, but not extra difficult. Just as difficult as it was.
Even at the time I don't think I articulated in my mind, "Aha! This is the great potential of practice!" I didn't think it through that way. It was only years down the road when I thought, "Look what happened." But after that I began to practice and go on a lot of retreats.
Was there any breakthrough experience in meditation that you can remember?
I've had periods that were very dramatic with all kinds of energetic events that were not so plain as the experience of "peace." But the paradigmatic event of my life and of my understanding is the experience of peace, which is at the same time sublime and quite plain.
But it's not like you wake up one day and everything is lovely for the rest of your life.
No. No. No. I still get caught. But I stay caught less-not because I'm such a brilliant person, but because I'm aware sooner of the pain of caught-ness and I just won't do it.
Isn't it the running away that creates the suffering?
Yes. I think it's running away or hiding, rather than saying, "This is the truth: I am in pain. Period." In a certain way it's easier if you name it and you stay with it.
Stay with it?
Well, you don't duck. My instruction for meditation practice is much the same as my instruction for psychotherapy: "Don't duck." Maybe it's a little cavalier to say, because sometimes you have to duck or you get blown away. But if I say to myself, "This is painful, but it's O.K.," and I stay there, then it's just what it is and then it changes. But when I run away from it or I push it away or pretend that it's something else, that is the suffering. All those maneuvers that we do to avoid saying, "This is true. This is what's happening"-the maneuvers themselves are the suffering.
What is the definition of meditation?
The practice of mindfulness is the practice of knowing what's happening in the moment, externally and within oneself. It's knowing the feeling tone that's accompanying what's happening, knowing the state of mind that's accompanying what's happening, knowing what the kindest, most compassionate, most wholesome response to the moment would be and making that response.
"Meditation has changed my life in the following way…"
It changed me from being afraid of being in a life to celebrating it.
"The one thing meditation has taught me that I want to share with all people is that…"
"…it is within the possibility of the human being to discover that one's basic nature is peaceful. That discovery carries with it the end of suffering, a desire to change the world, and the ability to do it."
Sharon Salzberg
How did you start meditating?
Salzberg: From the first time I heard about Buddhist practice, I had a very strong feeling that if I could learn how to meditate, I could really do something about my state of mind. I had a very strong conviction that the methods of Buddhist meditation could bring me peace of mind and clarity.
You were just a college kid when you started meditating. What happened on the cushion?
It was a struggle. I felt a tremendous amount of physical pain. Emotionally, it was my first real look at myself. I was eighteen-I didn't have a sophisticated understanding of the workings of my mind. So it was quite tumultuous and at the same time I felt a great sense of homecoming.
Can you describe any moments of breakthrough?
There were lots of things that were exciting and important, though they weren't always pleasant. I had a lot of physical pain but the teacher I was sitting with asked us not to move, not to change posture in the course of the meditation session. And I always moved. I began to see that I didn't move when the pain was severe or overwhelming; I moved long before that. I moved with the first moment of discomfort. I moved because at the arising of that first discomfort, I was thinking, "What's it going to feel like in half an hour? What's it going to feel like in an hour?" So I was taking the present moment's worth of discomfort and adding to it this projection of what was yet to come. I felt helpless and overcome, and I moved.
That was important to see because it was my habit that whenever there was any kind of painful experience in my life, I'd imagine how bad it could get, take all that pain on in my mind, and feel defeated by it. Being able to see that habit and relate to painful feelings in a different way was a big change in the quality of my life.
How does sitting meditation short-circuit that sense of defeat?
Basically, it reveals it.
Could you elaborate on your experience of self-discovery through meditation?
As I began to meditate, I saw my mental conditioning much more clearly. And because of that, other possibilities arose. I began to relate to painful experiences in a very different way and discovered capacities within myself that were stronger, more aware and more compassionate than I had imagined. Prior to that, when painful experiences came up, I was busy running from them.
Could you define meditation and self-discovery for me?
Meditation is the practice of concentration and mindfulness leading to insight. Self-discovery is seeing clearly who you are. It's wisdom. From the meditative point of view, we want to see in a certain way. We want to see with open-mindedness, compassion and so on. So part of the discovery of meditation is not only recognizing the habits we already have but also these other capacities which might be deeper.
"The experience of meditation is…"
"The experience of meditation is one of the most healing things we can do."
"The one thing that meditation has taught me that I would like to share with all people is that…"
"…we have greater capacities than we can imagine."
"The most profound way in which meditation has changed my life is…"
"…it has changed my view of who I am."
Can you say from what to what?
From confusion to clarity.
Donna Rockwell is a psychotherapist and meditation teacher living in Detroit.

sdsad
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How old were you when you started meditating?
Beck: Thirty-nine, forty, somewhere in there.
Did you have any realization through meditation?
No. Of course we have realizations, but that's not really what drives practice.
Will you say more about that?
I meet all sorts of people who've had all sorts of experiences and they're still confused and not doing very well in their life. Experiences are not enough. My students learn that if they have so-called experiences, I really don't care much about hearing about them. I just tell them, "Yeah, that's O.K. Don't hold onto it. And how are you getting along with your mother?" Otherwise, they get stuck there. It's not the important thing in practice.
And may I ask you what is?
Learning how to deal with one's personal, egotistic self. That's the work. Very, very difficult.
There seems to be a payoff, though, because you feel alive instead of dead.
I wouldn't say a payoff. You're returning to the source, you might say-what you always were, but which was severely covered by your core belief and all its systems. And when those get weaker, you do feel joy. I mean, then it's no big deal to do the dishes and clean up the house and go to work and things like that.
Doing the dishes is a great meditation-especially if you hate it…
Well, if your mind wanders to other things while you're doing the dishes, just return it to the dishes. Meditation isn't something special. It's not a special way of being. It's simply being aware of what is going on.
Doesn't sitting meditation prepare the ground to do that?
Sure. It gives you the strength to face the more complex things in your life. You're not meeting anything much when you're sitting except your little mind. That's relatively easy when compared to some of the complex situations we have to live our way through. Sitting gives you the ability to work with your life.
I read your books.
Oh you read. Well, give up reading, O.K.?
Give up reading your books?
Well, they're all right. Read them once and that's enough. Books are useful. But some people read for fifty years, you know. And they haven't begun their practice.
How would you describe self-discovery?
You're really just an ongoing set of events: boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, one after the other. The awareness is keeping up with those events, seeing your life unfolding as it is, not your ideas of it, not your pictures of it. See what I mean?
How would you define meditation?
Awareness of what is, mentally, physically.
Can you please complete the following sentences for me? "The experience of meditation is…"
"…awareness of what is."
"Meditative awareness has changed my life in the following way…"
"It has changed my life in the direction of it being more harmonious, more satisfactory, more joyful and more useful probably." Though I don't think much in those terms. I don't wake up in the morning thinking I'm going to be useful. I really think about what I'm going to have for breakfast.
"The one thing awareness has taught me that I want to share with all people is that…
I don't want to share anything with all people.
Who do you want to share with?
Nobody. I just live my life. I don't go around wanting to share something. That's extra.
Could you talk about that a little bit?
Well, there's a little shade of piety that creeps into practice. You know, "I have this wonderful practice, I want to share it with everyone." There's an error in that. You could probably figure it out yourself.
I think that's something I need to learn.
You and I know there's nothing that's going to make me run away faster than somebody who comes around and wants to be helpful. You know what I mean? I don't want people to be helpful to me. I just want to live my own life.
Do you think you share yourself?
Yeah, but who's that?
Joseph Goldstein
When did you start meditating?
Goldstein: I was in the Peace Corps in Thailand, and I started going to a temple in Bangkok where Western Buddhist monks were leading discussion groups. Finally one of the monks said, "Why don't you try meditating?" I didn't know anything about it, so he just gave me some very simple instructions, like to watch the breath. I tried it, and it was just amazing-not that I was such a good meditator, but the idea that there was a way to look inside in a systematic way was tremendously exciting to me. It was something I'd been looking for without knowing it.
So Buddhist meditation took you a step beyond philosophy to show you...
To show me a way to observe the workings of the mind, not simply to think about things.
Can you describe for me your early experiences on the cushion?
I had a hard time doing vipassana meditation in the beginning. I was very enthusiastic about it but my mind wandered all the time. I would sit down and an hour later I would get up having thought the whole hour. But I never had any doubts, even though it was not easy to do. I knew that this was what I wanted to do, so that kept me going.
How does the experience of meditation progress?
I think you could describe it in different phases. The first phase is just seeing that there is a technique-even one as simple as coming back to the breath-and practicing doing that. That's the hard work of meditation, coming back again and again and again.
The second phase is when the mind develops some concentration and there is stillness and steadiness and ease. It all flows by itself; there's not that same effort. That's a wonderful opening, because the meditation gets to be very enjoyable and is not a chore anymore. The mind/body feels very light and fluid and the thoughts are no longer predominant. They still come and go, but they don't have the same power to drag you away.
The third phase is building on that concentration and using it, developing insight into the actual workings of the mind. So it's not just abiding in the calm, but seeing and observing. You see the unsatisfying nature of arising phenomena, because they just all pass away, very momentarily. And you begin to see what in Buddhism is called the emptiness of self. Those are insights you begin to see with greater and greater clarity.
What does meditation do for you?
Usually we're imprisoned by the things we identify with. We all have well-established habits of thought, emotion, reaction and judgement, and without the keen awareness of practice, we're just acting out these patterns. When they arise, we're not aware they've arisen. We get lost in them, identify with them, act on them-so much of our life is just acting out patterns.
Bringing awareness to bear on what's arising opens up an incredible space of simply seeing the thoughts come and go. That allows us to make wise choices-which ones to act on, which ones to let go of. When we do that, we get tremendously more creative with our lives.
Can you please complete these following sentences: "The experience of meditation is..."
"...developing the quality of awareness and the wisdom and compassion that come from it." That kind of sums it up.
"The one thing meditation has taught me that I want to share with all people is that..."
"...it's possible to come to a place of peace and happiness in one's life. Peace, happiness and understanding."
"The greatest way in which meditation has changed my life is that..."
"...I've become more aware of the nature of my mind-how it creates suffering and how it can be free."
Sylvia Boorstein
What brought you to the path of meditation?
Boorstein: My husband went off to do a retreat and came home and said, "Syl, this is great. You should try it." I did a two-week retreat and I did not have amazing meditation states. Mainly, I had a headache and my body hurt a lot. But my headache finally went away and I calmed down a little bit.
Two amazing things happened on that retreat. One was that I got tremendously buoyed by the dharma I heard. It was such good news to hear that as challenging as life inevitably is, it is possible to live with a peaceful and benevolent heart. That was one event: I was inspired by dharma, fell in love with it, actually.
Then, at the end of the two weeks when I called home, I found out from my husband that my father had been diagnosed with untreatable cancer. I felt a terrible sadness, but I didn't fall through the floor like you usually do when you hear news like that. I realized that, one way or another, I was going to have to do the next several years with my father and it would be a practice. And we did do it. We paid attention to it, he and I, not in denial about it. It was difficult a lot, but not extra difficult. Just as difficult as it was.
Even at the time I don't think I articulated in my mind, "Aha! This is the great potential of practice!" I didn't think it through that way. It was only years down the road when I thought, "Look what happened." But after that I began to practice and go on a lot of retreats.
Was there any breakthrough experience in meditation that you can remember?
I've had periods that were very dramatic with all kinds of energetic events that were not so plain as the experience of "peace." But the paradigmatic event of my life and of my understanding is the experience of peace, which is at the same time sublime and quite plain.
But it's not like you wake up one day and everything is lovely for the rest of your life.
No. No. No. I still get caught. But I stay caught less-not because I'm such a brilliant person, but because I'm aware sooner of the pain of caught-ness and I just won't do it.
Isn't it the running away that creates the suffering?
Yes. I think it's running away or hiding, rather than saying, "This is the truth: I am in pain. Period." In a certain way it's easier if you name it and you stay with it.
Stay with it?
Well, you don't duck. My instruction for meditation practice is much the same as my instruction for psychotherapy: "Don't duck." Maybe it's a little cavalier to say, because sometimes you have to duck or you get blown away. But if I say to myself, "This is painful, but it's O.K.," and I stay there, then it's just what it is and then it changes. But when I run away from it or I push it away or pretend that it's something else, that is the suffering. All those maneuvers that we do to avoid saying, "This is true. This is what's happening"-the maneuvers themselves are the suffering.
What is the definition of meditation?
The practice of mindfulness is the practice of knowing what's happening in the moment, externally and within oneself. It's knowing the feeling tone that's accompanying what's happening, knowing the state of mind that's accompanying what's happening, knowing what the kindest, most compassionate, most wholesome response to the moment would be and making that response.
"Meditation has changed my life in the following way…"
It changed me from being afraid of being in a life to celebrating it.
"The one thing meditation has taught me that I want to share with all people is that…"
"…it is within the possibility of the human being to discover that one's basic nature is peaceful. That discovery carries with it the end of suffering, a desire to change the world, and the ability to do it."
Sharon Salzberg
How did you start meditating?
Salzberg: From the first time I heard about Buddhist practice, I had a very strong feeling that if I could learn how to meditate, I could really do something about my state of mind. I had a very strong conviction that the methods of Buddhist meditation could bring me peace of mind and clarity.
You were just a college kid when you started meditating. What happened on the cushion?
It was a struggle. I felt a tremendous amount of physical pain. Emotionally, it was my first real look at myself. I was eighteen-I didn't have a sophisticated understanding of the workings of my mind. So it was quite tumultuous and at the same time I felt a great sense of homecoming.
Can you describe any moments of breakthrough?
There were lots of things that were exciting and important, though they weren't always pleasant. I had a lot of physical pain but the teacher I was sitting with asked us not to move, not to change posture in the course of the meditation session. And I always moved. I began to see that I didn't move when the pain was severe or overwhelming; I moved long before that. I moved with the first moment of discomfort. I moved because at the arising of that first discomfort, I was thinking, "What's it going to feel like in half an hour? What's it going to feel like in an hour?" So I was taking the present moment's worth of discomfort and adding to it this projection of what was yet to come. I felt helpless and overcome, and I moved.
That was important to see because it was my habit that whenever there was any kind of painful experience in my life, I'd imagine how bad it could get, take all that pain on in my mind, and feel defeated by it. Being able to see that habit and relate to painful feelings in a different way was a big change in the quality of my life.
How does sitting meditation short-circuit that sense of defeat?
Basically, it reveals it.
Could you elaborate on your experience of self-discovery through meditation?
As I began to meditate, I saw my mental conditioning much more clearly. And because of that, other possibilities arose. I began to relate to painful experiences in a very different way and discovered capacities within myself that were stronger, more aware and more compassionate than I had imagined. Prior to that, when painful experiences came up, I was busy running from them.
Could you define meditation and self-discovery for me?
Meditation is the practice of concentration and mindfulness leading to insight. Self-discovery is seeing clearly who you are. It's wisdom. From the meditative point of view, we want to see in a certain way. We want to see with open-mindedness, compassion and so on. So part of the discovery of meditation is not only recognizing the habits we already have but also these other capacities which might be deeper.
"The experience of meditation is…"
"The experience of meditation is one of the most healing things we can do."
"The one thing that meditation has taught me that I would like to share with all people is that…"
"…we have greater capacities than we can imagine."
"The most profound way in which meditation has changed my life is…"
"…it has changed my view of who I am."
Can you say from what to what?
From confusion to clarity.
Donna Rockwell is a psychotherapist and meditation teacher living in Detroit.
From Shambhala Sun, March 2003.

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Using Desire to Eradicate Desire

Tantric adepts claim that the fact that tantra uses emotions like desire as means in the path is an example of the skillful practices of the system. The following passage from Viryavajra's Commentary on the Samputa Tantra contends that there are four levels of the use of desire: visualizing a man and woman looking at each other; laughing with each other; holding hands; and sexual union. Each of these represents a progressively higher level of desire. One should engage in these practices, however, in order to utilize the energy of desire as a force that can be used to eradicate mental afflictions. The skillful use of desire is said in some texts to be like rubbing two sticks together to make a fire, which then consumes the sticks themselves. In this case, the process is compared to the way that insects are born in wood, and then later consume the wood.
Within the sound of laughter non-conceptual bliss is generated; or it is generated from looking at the body, the touch of holding hands and the embrace of the two; or from the touch [of union]....just as an insect is generated from the wood and then eats the wood itself, so meditative stabilization is generated from bliss [in dependence on desire] and is cultivated as emptiness [whereupon desire is consumed].

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View From a Moving Train
by Jakusho Kwong Roshi

Whenever I give a talk, the listeners and I may find ourselves in a paradoxical situation: as words and phrases can often become abstractions, I try to explain something that can't be explained, and the listeners try to hear something that can't be heard. Since by necessity this is the situation, we can sympathize with each other-me with you for that which you can't hear, and you with me for that which I can't say. At the same time I can always strike my stick on the floor, Bam!, so at least this is possible. Maybe I can't explain it, but I can demonstrate it, and then the rest is up to you.
This can cause a certain amount of frustration on your side and loneliness on mine. But the bigger question is, How can we come together? And how can we realize ourselves? When we chant phrases like, "for all sentient beings," it's pretty abstract. But it becomes less abstract when we begin to find out what this sentient being is, and that includes discovering that things go into making up this sentient being. All of our dualistic thoughts and deluded feelings, whether they're good or bad, whether we like them or not, constitute a sentient being. Our meditation practice is not about trying to deny these aspects of ourselves. Many people have this misunderstanding, but the truth is quite the opposite.
In Poland, where I have some students, I met with a woman who is in her early sixties. Since the end of World War II all of her memories of the war have been suppressed. For some reason, however, at this time of her life all of her memories are returning and surfacing. What is she to do with them? What are any of us to do with the content of our mind? How can each of us work with our own situation? This is the practice of meditation.
Each one of us holds the very same wish and aspiration: to be able to work with the difficulties that life brings us, based on the awareness we cultivate through our practice. As you continue your journey and your practice grows, you will see that there's a beginning and a middle and an end that, in reality, are all the same. For convenience, or because we are speaking about it, we separate this One, this Same, into three parts, but actually it is just One. In time you will discover this for yourselves, unless you become scared and run off-which believe it or not, happens frequently. But what comes up in our meditation is not new. It's old stuff, and you can only run off so many times before you realize that there's no need to run anymore. For many people that's the moment when their practice begins to engage.
The late Uchiyama Roshi explained that there is a seed or cause that has auspiciously brought you in contact with the path. This alone points you in the direction of dharma. This is one interpretation of dharma: looking for something that seems to be missing. Maybe some truth is what is lacking in life, and at a certain point we are actually able to experience this. Either through our grief, or our experience of sickness, or loss, or a change in a relationship, or just a feeling of impermanence that is no longer tolerable, we begin to look and to quest, and we begin to practice zazen as part of that quest.
What zazen really is has been explained in many different ways. Suzuki Roshi used to say shikantaza is our zazen, but as I've mentioned, the words and phrases used to express Zen practice can sound pretty abstract, and almost any explanation is conceptual. It can't really touch the experience itself. Suzuki Roshi put it very simply: "Just to be ourselves." Four words, but what they express is so deep and so subtle that we miss it until we begin slowing down. He said our practice is following our breath. But the true meaning of this, the deep meaning, is that you are vividly alive. The method says to follow your breath, but its meaning is that you are invisibly present and alive, just like a spinning top that goes faster and faster until it disappears. Without method, without expectation, without counting your breath, you are alive moment to moment, alive in this space that is nowhere else but right here within yourself. Others have said that zazen or shikantaza means being present in this very moment, but even that's not it. It's being the moment. It's being each moment after moment after moment-in zazen, before zazen, and after zazen as well. And of course that's the manifestation or actualization of your original mind. "Just to be ourselves." This is shikantaza.
Every year when I travel to meet with students in Poland, the schedule is very intense. Last year when I was standing beside a window on a hot and crowded train going from Gdansk to Warsaw, just watching the scenery go by, suddenly I became acutely aware that my breath had become naturally deeper than it had been before. After some time I became aware of the sound of my breath and began to follow it. It was very wonderful because I was unaware that more than three hours passed by. I felt only that I was being embraced by the sound's traveling.
You pass a lot of scenery when you're on a train. In Poland we passed devastated environments, broken-down homes and the families who live in them watching the train while standing or working outside, lots of garbage and litter everywhere (I did see some good graffiti, too!) and also beautiful forests and plains. I was receiving all of this as it passed by, and at the same time I was aware of my breath. Even though I had been standing the entire time, after the train reached its destination I got off and felt completely renewed.
When you practice like this, you receive everything you see on the inhalation of the breath. You don't pretend not to see it. In our contemporary lives we pretend a lot in order to protect ourselves. There's TV, newspapers with bad news, city noises and so many other things that seem to be assaulting us. But no matter what it is, you can take it in, and because you do receive it, on the exhalation you can let it out. You let it go. This is the shikantaza breath. It can be compared to the alchemy of turning lead into gold. You fill up with your sorrow or anger or any other feeling that you usually try to avoid, and by doing so you acknowledge that it is there. But this is only part of the practice, because the fact that you have done it means that, on the exhale, you release it and let it go. It actually needs this acknowledgment in order to be really released.
It's a little odd, but in general we tend not to be aware of other people's anger, or even our own anger, despite the fact that our whole meditation practice is about awareness. What you can do, what you can't do, what you want or don't want to do, is still about awareness. Our practice is to have the courage to actually feel and accept these aspects of being human. They're just a small part of us and our practice will help us to make room so that we can receive and feel these things and therefore let them go without attaching to them, just as you receive and release the passing scenery when you're on a train.
I think it's pretty true to say that we're all on a train. The scenery is going by quickly and you can't hold on to anything; you have to stay and keep going down the track. It's when you hold on to something, or even try to hold on, that you are not on the train anymore. But our way tells us to release what we are holding so that we can keep going and stay on track. What it really comes down to is the wisdom and compassion of non-avoidance. You just keep going, and as you do, you can work with the practice called the compassion breath. Then you know how to transmute what you see, hear, smell, taste, touch and think every day. Compassion breath involves, on the inhalation, taking in suffering-your own or someone else's-and on the exhalation letting it go. And the truth is that, with practice, this process helps you learn to be kind to yourself and to all beings as well.
We have the capacity to take in an enormous amount of negativity and to let it go its way. We don't avoid anything because we know we can work with it. Most people don't know what to do when they notice unwanted thoughts and feelings within themselves, or see a dead animal on the road, or killing on television shows or in the news, or the many homeless and starving people right beside them as they walk down the street. And then there's drugs, alcohol, AIDS and cancer. People feel overwhelmed, and the result is that often their hearts turn hard and cold. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. The normal response to these things would be that everyone should be crying-this is the awakening of compassion-but the ignorance of sentient beings causes us to continue to enhance samsara. The practice of compassion breath allows our hearts to remain soft and open while our spirit and life-force are replenished. And our tears are part of this replenishment, an important part. You do not have to be a Buddhist to do this: it is meant to be used by all human beings, everywhere, even while standing on a train.
The Tibetan Buddhist nun Ani Tenzin Palmo said that compassion practice is a form of discipline. Most people really don't like discipline, but it's necessary. Maybe it would be easier to say it's preparation, but whatever word we use, we need discipline and preparation for the effort to stay on the train and allow the scenery to go by. Pretty soon, even before you know it, you'll be sixty, and that's not so old. Scenery changes quickly.
When you're a child, a day seems to last a long time. Sometimes at the grocery store in town you may see a father holding a baby, and the baby is completely surrendered into the father's arms. The child's body/mind shows its purity and trust. As the child becomes older, naturally it wants to grow in all ways. Then in almost no time at all summer holidays don't come so often, the seasons drift by, new babies are born and at a certain age friends start dying. This is true for every one of us. But regardless of what age we are, we should do our best to see the whole picture.
When we talk about "saving all sentient beings," we are talking about everyone in that picture and also all forms of life. But the real meaning of the phrase remains beyond our reach and again is pretty abstract. Our practice can help you to make a good start toward breaking down that abstraction by revealing how you can take in and release your suffering, which includes the suffering of others. It's not uncommon at the beginning of this practice for people to feel a little afraid to allow suffering to come in. If this is true in your case, you can practice imagining yourself doing it, or pretending, until you see what's actually there. The point is that as you begin to do this, little by little you are actually transforming what you receive. And little by little from the particular you make your way into universal suffering by imagining all the other people in the world with the same feelings and conditions you have, who are suffering exactly like you. Now your suffering is in the right perspective, and it's no longer personal.
Compassion practice includes your active participation in accepting this suffering, but that is not all. At the same time that you take all of this in and then release it, there still is the blue sky and the bright morning sun shining on the green grass, though even a dark sky will do. And you begin to realize that confusion and suffering are also void, empty and nonsubstantial.
Do you understand? You're on a train, and the scenery is going by. Included in the scenery are all the ways in which you project upon yourself, abuse yourself or create a dialogue within yourself that occupy a whole day, or three days or maybe a week, and still you aren't aware of it.
Then at the end of the day you're so tired, completely exhausted, but still you're on the train, holding on, and the tighter you hold on to the passing scenery, the more the train seems to drag to a stop. In reality the train doesn't stop, it continues on, living dying living dying, but in our deluded understanding we've stopped the train. We've even gotten off the train! The fabrication or delusional system of our small minds is that powerful. We believe we've stopped the whole train and gotten off, and maybe we've even stayed for a couple of days or months. Some people pass their entire lives this way. But the train is going on. Believe it or not, it continues on. And while it does, while this whole drama flies through space and time, you can actually apply your compassion practice to engage your suffering and the suffering you see in the world around you, and experience how to let the grip go. Even doing this much begins to transform all that lead into gold.
In the late 1970's the Tibetan teacher Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche introduced to his community certain practices for difficult times. He was one of the most controversial and influential Tibetan teachers to transmit dharma to the West, and he and Suzuki Roshi had a very close relationship that our traditions continue to this day. There's really nothing in Zen like the compassionate breathing practice he introduced us to. We're so fortunate to have some kind of practice that can work with the unwanted thoughts and feelings that cause suffering and fear.
When Rinpoche first said to us, "Let's try to take on the suffering of other people," he was quite shocked at the response. Most of the students said they didn't want to do it. Suzuki Roshi wanted to encourage us in the same direction, but he was more subtle and mild, and so he would say the same thing but in a gentle way. He would say that "the bodhisattva path" or "to help other people" is our way. But the truth is that most of us were not really on the Mahayana path; we were just interested in our own self-realization. Suzuki Roshi knew this, and I think that's why he presented it in the way he did. And it did help us, because we do have to realize which track we are on.
It is said that having the capacity, the foundation and the vessel to take on the suffering of others is one of the great joys, because you can make someone else happy, not just yourself. Of course, we usually do not realize, as we do this for someone, that the other person's joy includes our joy, too. But when you focus just on yourself, your universe becomes small and smaller. Eventually it becomes as tiny as the head of a pin. That's it. There's no spaciousness. There's no room for joy. There's no humor. There's no curiosity. There's no discovery. In this way your world becomes so diminished that you have imprisoned yourself within your own conditioned mind.
There are more than six billion other people in the world at this time, and many of them look exactly like you. It's true. They have a character and karmic pattern just like you. I see students from around the world quite a bit, and I can see an American, a Pole, an Icelander, a Chinese, and for each country there is an equal. When I was in Iceland recently, I saw someone walking down the street, and I said, "Oh, there's Gary! In Iceland!" You really do wonder sometimes when you see the same karmic force, the same values and ideas, the same features, build and color as someone on the other side of the world.
Think of all the people who have the same feeling you have, maybe of failure or of anger at someone. Sometimes when we become very angry, we can do something about it in the situation, and sometimes we can't. So who do you beat up? Guess. You know the answer-the closest one to you is yourself. And you do it even though you may not be aware that you are doing it. This is why we have to become softer. We just need to be kinder to ourselves because we deserve it. Why beat ourselves up? Isn't it better to just let go of the dialogue? Let it go completely? We've been doing this for thirty, forty, fifty years. It's very strong conditioning. And our compassion is the practice of unconditioning. We already have the discipline, and we already have the strength, so all we have to do is to let it go. Little by little allow the old story line to dissolve.
But it isn't so easy. Even when we decide to take on the practice of acknowledging and letting go, we may fear that if we do let go, something terrible may happen to us. Probably something even worse. You may be in the present, but it can be quite frightening to be in the present. Let me assure you that being in the present won't hit you like the first time you smoked marijuana or had some LSD or peyote or whatever new "designer drug" people are taking these days. It won't overwhelm you like that because it's organic. It comes from within.
When Hoitsu Suzuki Roshi went out for a smoke one day, Sojun Weitsman's little boy asked him, "Roshi, what are you doing?" This is the ultimate Zen question you have to ask yourselves: "What are you doing? What's going on?" If you do this, you will begin to not accept habit or impulse as your way of life.
When you are practicing, please remember that your breathing is very important. Even those of us who sit every day may forget to apply it, but do your best to remember the breathing. On the inhalation you take in some of the suffering-either your own or someone else's-and on the exhalation you let it go. Repeat this three or four times: receiving and releasing, taking in and letting go. Then you may move from the personal to the universal. That's it. Even if you're not practicing this on an intense schedule, if you just practice it for a minute or two or three when you're sitting or standing in your ordinary life, you will have some experience you can begin to rely on. This is true even when you're doing it for someone who's quite far away from you or who is dead. Try it. Do it for someone who is alive, someone you do not like or someone who is dying. It will also clean up your own negativity, your own karma. This compassion breath will burn it up.
Once I painted a traditional Zen circle made in just one stroke, known in Japanese as an enso, and wrote inside of it, "Breath sweeps mind." Just the sound of the breath painted it. We can hardly hear our breath because we are so busy listening to our thinking all the time. Twenty-four hours a day, just the same. Are we that conditioned that we don't get tired of it? You may say yes, but maybe you aren't tired enough. You say you are, but I'm not convinced, because when you really are tired enough, you will change. Your behavior will begin to change, and you will take up this practice wholeheartedly. Life isn't that long, and besides, no one else can do it for you. You're the only one who can turn your lead, your heavy stuff, into gold. That's all you have to do, and you can do it through the breath. That's what we practice in zendo, and that's what you can practice outside, in the bigger zendo, in action.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama has said many times that it is not the Buddhist way just to accept something on faith. We should put everything to the test and decide for ourselves whether to have faith in it. So there is a relationship between action and faith in the buddhadharma. That's why I encourage you to put this practice to the test. You can start by taking a look and seeing for yourself where you spend most of your life. In bed? On your feet? On your seat? And while you're there, what is it that you are doing? What do you long for? Everything to change? Nothing to change?
Somewhere deep within most of us we're not convinced that we can really make a shift or change. When we hear a teaching such as this, something inside of us is conditioned to reject it and say it's just another fantasy we shouldn't take seriously. So I don't know what it takes. Our conditioning is so strong that maybe the rug has to be pulled from beneath our feet, or the whole floor has to drop away. Believe me, I know from my own experience. Even when I was in the hospital after a cancer operation, I was still smoking. Can you believe it? That's how stupid we are! I had a carton of cigarettes in my lower drawer. That's how much I was in denial and unaware of addiction. But whatever we practice is what we get. It's really true. So if you're practicing abusing yourself, all I can say is that it's not beneficial to yourself or others.
That's why I want to encourage you to try. Even though your delusion practice is excellent and maintains its energy, exhausting and undermining you at the end of the day, and you get carried away with it every time, you should still try. At least during meditation practice, when it comes up, you can be aware of it. And gradually in your world, in the big zendo in action, you can become aware of it. You have some way to work with your conditioning, your life and your world: some real way that is not abstract but solid, to help you stay on the train.
Jakusho Kwong Roshi, a successor in the lineage of Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, is the founder and abbot of the Sonoma Mountain Zen Center outside of Santa Rosa, California.

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Why We Do It
by Tsoknyi Rinpoche

Whether our dharma practice will progress in the right direction depends on our attitude, our intention, our motivation. Motivation is extremely important: it is what everything stands or falls with. This is true not only in spiritual practice but in whatever we set out to do. Therefore, in Buddhist practice it is of utmost importance to continually correct and improve our attitude.
The attitude we need to cultivate is one that is suffused with bodhichitta, or awakened heart and mind. This enlightened attitude has two aspects. The first aspect is the urge to purify our negativity: "I want to rid myself of all shortcomings, all ego-oriented emotions such as attachment, aggression, stupidity and all the rest." The second aspect is the sincere desire to benefit all beings: "Having freed myself of all negative emotions, I will benefit all sentient beings. I will bring every sentient being to the state of complete enlightenment."
This compassionate attitude of bodhichitta should encompass oneself as well as all others. We have every reason to feel compassionate toward ourselves. In the ordinary state of mind we are helplessly overtaken by selfish emotions, and we lack the freedom to remain unaffected when these emotions occupy our mind. Swept away by feelings of attachment, anger, closed-mindedness and so forth, we lose control, and we suffer a great deal in this process. In such a state, we are unable to help ourselves, let alone others.
We need to relate to our own suffering here with compassion, in a balanced way, applying compassion toward ourselves just as we would do with others. In order to help others, we must first help ourselves, so that we can become capable of expanding our efforts further. But we shouldn't get stuck in just helping ourselves. Our compassion must embrace all other beings as well, so that having freed ourselves of negative emotions we are moved by compassion to help all sentient beings.
At this point in our practice it's O.K. that our attempts to experience the attitude of bodhichitta are a little bit artificial. Because we haven't necessarily thought in this way before, we need to deliberately shift or adjust our intention to a new style. This kind of tampering with our own attitude is actually necessary. We may not yet be perfect bodhisattvas, but we should act as if we already are. We should put on the air of being a bodhisattva, just as if we're putting on a mask that makes us look as if we are somebody else.
In Tibet there is a lot of livestock: many cows, sheep, yaks. The skin from these animals needs to be cured in order to be useful. It needs to be softened by a special process. Once the hide has been cured, it becomes flexible and can be used in all sorts of ways: in religious artifacts, to bind up certain offerings on the shrine, as well as for all kinds of household purposes. But first it needs to be prepared in the right way-it needs to be softened, made flexible. If the hide is simply left as it is, it hardens and becomes totally stiff; then it is nothing but an unyielding piece of animal skin. It is the same way with a human being's attitude. We must soften our hearts, and this takes deliberate effort. We need to make ourselves gentle, peaceful, flexible and tame, rather than being undisciplined, rigid, stubborn egocentrics.
This softening of our heart is essential for all progress, and not just in terms of spiritual practice. In all we do, we need to have an attitude that is open-minded and flexible. We are deliberately trying to be a bodhisattva, to have the compassionate attitude of wanting to help all sentient beings. This conscious effort is vital, because it can genuinely soften us up from deep within. If we do not cultivate this attitude, our rigidly preoccupied frame of mind makes it impossible for the true view of ultimate bodhichitta to grow. It's like trying to plant seeds in a frozen block of ice atop Mount Everest-they will never grow, they will just freeze. When, on the other hand, you have warmed up your character with bodhichitta, your heart is like fertile soil that is warm and moist. Since the readiness is there, whenever the view of self-knowing wakefulness- the true view of Dzogchen that is ultimate bodhichitta-is planted, it can grow spontaneously. In fact, absolutely nothing can hold it back from growing in such a receptive environment! That is why it is so important to steadily train in bodhichitta right from the very beginning.
The word dharma, in this context, means method. The dharma is a method to overcome the delusion in our own stream of being, in our own mind-a way to be totally free of the negative emotions that we harbor and cause to proliferate. At the same time it is a way to realize the original wakefulness that is present in ourselves. There are ten different connotations of the word dharma, but in this context we are speaking of two types: the dharma of statements and the dharma of realization. The dharma of statements is what you hear during a lecture or a teaching session. Within the dharma of statements are included the words of the Buddha, called the Tripitaka, as well as the commentaries on the Buddha's words made by many learned and accomplished masters.
Through hearing the explanations that constitute the dharma of statements, and through applying these methods, something dawns in our own experience. This insight is called the dharma of realization, and it includes recognizing our own nature of mind. In order to approach this second kind of dharma, to apply it, we need the right motivation. Again, this right motivation is the desire to free oneself of negative emotions and bring all beings to liberation. We absolutely must have that attitude, or our spiritual practice will be distorted into personal profit seeking.
Basically there are three negative emotions: attachment, aggression and closed-mindedness. Of course, these three can be further distinguished into finer and finer levels of detail, down to the 84,000 different types of negative emotions. But the main three, as well as all their subsidiary classifications, are all rooted in ignorance, in basic unknowing. These are the negative emotions we need to be free of, and their main root is ignorance.
Someone might think, "I approach dharma practice because my ego is a little bit upset. My ego is not very intelligent, not quite able to succeed. I come here to practice in order to improve my ego." That attitude is not spiritual.
Here's another attitude: "My ego works so hard. I must take care of my ego. I must relax. I come here to practice and become relaxed, so that my ego gets healthier and I can do my job." That type of attitude is O.K., but merely O.K.; it's just one drop of a very small motivation.
We can, in fact, have a much larger perspective. As long as we harbor and perpetuate the negative emotions of attachment, anger, closed-mindedness, pride and jealousy, they will continue to give us a hard time, and they will make it difficult for others to be with us as well. We need to be free of them. We need to have this attitude: "I must be free of these emotions."
Otherwise, what Gampopa said may come true: if you do not practice the dharma correctly, it could become a cause for rebirth in the lower realms. That may happen for many people. In fact, it happens more frequently among old practitioners than with beginners.
Someone may relate to dharma merely as a kind of remedy to be used when confused or upset. This of course is not the real purpose of spiritual practice. In this kind of situation, you do some practice till you have settled down, and then you set it aside and forget all about it. The next time you get upset, you do some more practice in order to feel good again. Of course, reestablishing one's equilibrium in this way is one of the minor purposes of practice, but it's not the real goal. Doing this is a way of using the dharma as if it were a type of therapy. You may of course choose to do this, but I do not think it will get you enlightened. Feel a little bit unhappy, do some dharma practice, get happy. Feel a little bit upset, then feel fine, then again feel unhappy. If you just continue like this, holding this very short-term view in mind, then there is no progress. "Last night I didn't sleep-my mind was disturbed, and the dog was barking next door. Now my mind is a little upside down, so I need to do a session to cure it. O.K., this morning I'll meditate."
Do not practice in this way. Dharma practice is not meant merely to make oneself feel better. The whole point of spiritual practice is to liberate oneself through realization and also to liberate others through compassionate capacity. To practice in order to feel better only brings one back up to that same level-one never makes any real progress. With this attitude spreading in the West, we may see a huge scarcity of enlightened masters in the future. They will become an endangered species.
Please understand that the pursuit of "feeling better" is a samsaric goal. It is a totally mundane pursuit that borrows from the dharma and uses all its special methods in order to fine tune ego into a fit and workable entity. The definition of a worldly aim is to try to achieve something for oneself with a goal-oriented frame of mind-"So that I feel good." We may use spiritual practice to achieve this, one good reason being that it works much better than other methods. If we're on this path, we do a little spiritual practice and pretend to be doing it sincerely. This kind of deception, hiding the ego-oriented, materialistic aim under the tablecloth, might include something like, "I take refuge in the Buddha, dharma and sangha, so I must be pure." Gradually, as we become more astute at spiritual practice, we may bring our materialistic aim out into the open. This is quite possible: people definitely do it. But if this is how you practice, you won't get anywhere in the end. How could one ever become liberated through selfishness?
There comes a point when we start to lose faith in the illusions of this world: our level of trust in illusions begins to weaken, and we become disappointed. Using spiritual practice to nurture our ego back into good health while still retaining trust in these illusory aims does not set us free. True freedom does not mean having a healthy faith in illusions; rather, it means going completely beyond delusion. This may not sound particularly comforting, but it is true. It may be an unpleasant piece of news, especially if we have to admit to ourselves, "I have really been fooling myself all along. Why did I do all this practice? Am I completely wrong?" What can you do to pretend this isn't true? Facing the truth is not pleasant.
The real help here lies in continually correcting and improving our motivation: understanding why we are practicing and where we are ultimately heading. Work on this and bring forth the noble motivation of bodhichitta. Then all methods and practices can be used to help you progress in that direction.
Again I must emphasize this point: if we want to approach ultimate truth, we must form a true motivation. This includes compassion for all other sentient beings who delude themselves continuously with the contents of whatever arises in their minds. Compassionate motivation says, "How sad that they believe so strongly in their thoughts, that they take them to be so real." This deluded belief in one's own thoughts is what I call the "granddad concept." First, we hold our thought as true. Next, we accept that delusion, and it becomes our granddad. You know what it's like to suffer from this delusion yourself, in your own experience. Bring to mind all other sentient beings who let themselves get caught up in their granddad delusion and, with compassion, form the wish to free them all. That's the true motivation: please generate it.
Unless we have completely pure and true motivation, the practice of Vajrayana and Dzogchen doesn't turn out well. Paltrul Rinpoche was a great Dzogchen master. He did not have any major monastery, but he had an encampment of thousands of practitioners that was called Paltrul Gar, Paltrul's Camp. Over and over again, he taught those gathered around him the importance of having pure motivation. He created a situation referred to as "the three opportunities" to improve the motivation of these practitioners. The first opportunity was at the sound of the wake-up gong in the early morning. Upon hearing the sound, people had the opportunity to think, "Yes, I must improve my motivation. I must put myself into the service of others; I must get rid of negative emotions and assist all sentient beings." They would repeatedly bring that to mind in order to adjust their aim.
The second opportunity arose at Paltrul Rinpoche's main tent. To get into it, you had to pass by a stupa, and at the opening to the enclosure, you had to squeeze yourself by to get through. The entranceway was deliberately made narrow so that you paused for a moment and thought, "This is the second opportunity to adjust my motivation."
The third one occurred in Paltrul Rinpoche's teaching itself, at the times when he would say directly, "You must correct and improve your motivation"-just like I am telling you now.
If these three opportunities did not work, then for the most part, Paltrul Rinpoche would kick you out of the encampment. He would say, "You are just fooling me and I am just fooling you. There is no point in that, so get out. Go away and become a businessman, get married, have children, get out of here! What's the use of being neither a spiritual practitioner nor a worldly person? Go and be a worldly person! Just have a good heart occasionally." What he meant was, it is not all right to dress up as a dharma practitioner and merely pretend to be one. To act in this way is not being honest with others, and especially not with oneself.
Motivation is easy to talk about yet sometimes hard to have. We always forget the simplest things, partly because we don't take them seriously. We would rather learn the more advanced, difficult stuff. And yet the simple can also be very profound. When a teaching is presented as a brain teaser and is hard to figure out but you finally get it, then you may feel satisfied. But this feeling of temporary satisfaction is not the real benefit. To really saturate yourself, your entire being, with the dharma, you need the proper motivation. Please apply this thoroughly, all the time.
In Vajrayana teachings, we find many instructions on how to improve our motivation. In fact, if you really learn about how this motivation should be, the whole bodhichitta teaching is contained within that. Cultivate the correct motivation within your own experience, and it turns into bodhichitta all by itself.
I have been teaching now for 15 years. Teaching on the view, on emptiness and so forth, all of that is of course great. But when I look through the whole range of teachings, the real dividing line between whether one's practice goes in the right direction or the wrong direction always comes down to motivation. That is the pivotal point.
Without pure motivation, no matter how profound the method is that we apply, it still turns into spiritual materialism. To train in being a bodhisattva and to cultivate bodhichitta so that "I can be happy" means something is twisted from the very beginning. Instead, embrace your practice with the genuine bodhichitta motivation.
Nyoshul Khen Rinpoche, who is one of my root gurus, would teach on motivation over and over again. He talked about it so much that, frankly, I sometimes felt a little bored, thinking, "He talked about it yesterday, he talked about it today and he will probably talk about it tomorrow. This is a little too much. I've already heard it." This kind of resistance is actually very good proof that ego doesn't like teachings on pure motivation. Right there, at the moment one feels resistance against the altruistic attitude, that is the precise spot to work with, touchy as it may be. To admit this and be willing to deal with it right at that point is very practical, very pragmatic. I think that the whole point of practice is using dharma teachings at the exact point of resistance. Otherwise, we just end up practicing when we feel good, and we avoid it when we feel bored or restless.
At the very moment of feeling depressed, restless or unhappy, take these moods as a really good training opportunity, as a blessing, and put the dharma to use right on the spot. Think, "I am so glad I have this opportunity to practice meditation. I am deeply delighted. Please come here, unhappiness, depression, every type of suffering! Please come closer, I am so happy to see you!" When we train in this type of "welcoming practice" on a daily basis, we can progress and become truly transformed. Otherwise we are just postponing the main problem until some indefinite future time-tomorrow and then again tomorrow. We postpone it again and again, until the doctor says, "Sorry, your time is up! No more tomorrows."
I can promise you that the dharma works well if you use it well. I have a great deal of trust that the teachings of the awakened Buddha are extremely profound and precious. Their practice can solve our basic problem permanently and completely. All our confusion, all our emotional obscurations can be completely undone. Not only can we achieve liberation for ourselves personally, but we can expand our capacity to benefit others at a deep and true level, not just superficially. All these tools and insights are presented in the Buddha's teachings. To use them only for temporary, shallow purposes-as is often the case with practice as a bit of self-improvement-degrades the Buddha's teachings to the level of a self-help book. There is no need for that. There are already more than enough of those-stacks of them, mountains of New Age self-help books suggesting this or that kind of therapy. If this is all we want out of Buddhism, we can turn to the easily understood self-help books that already exist. They are actually very useful. But if the future of the Buddhist tradition is no more than another self-help variation, I feel somewhat sad. Someone who simply wants a stronger ego to face the world, make more money, influence people and become famous maybe doesn't need Buddhism.
This sort of dharma talk was probably not heard in the past in Tibet. It wasn't necessary then, because the country was full of true practitioners. You just had to look up the mountainside and somebody was sitting there practicing. You could see the dwellings of hermits from wherever you were, scattered all over the sides of mountain ranges. At any given time throughout history, the Tibetan tradition abounded with great practitioners who had given up all material concern. These people were happy to just get by on whatever came along, happy to let whatever happened happen; they were free of all emotional baggage and worry for themselves. Maybe they did worry somewhat in the beginning-let's say the first six months of practice-but then they went beyond petty worries. They did not spend their whole lives trying to deal with emotional issues. They dealt with them and went on to the real practice. They did not remain inside the cocoon of spiritual materialism. Wouldn't it be sad to die like that, wrapped up in selfish worry?
Particularly when we come to Vajrayana practice, we must also have a certain amount of courage, a certain kind of mental strength, and together with that, an openness and softness of heart. This quality does not mean we are spaced-out or preoccupied with one thought after another. Rather, we should have a willingness to understand how to practice, along with open-mindedness. This quality of inner boldness is very important in Vajrayana: being bold not in an aggressive way, as when you're ready to fight whoever opposes you, but rather being ready to do whatever needs to be done. That is a very important quality.
To be a Vajrayana practitioner requires a certain degree of inner strength that grows out of confidence. This is not the aggressive strength of a fighter; it is more a preparedness that refuses to succumb to any obstacle or difficulty: "I am not going to give in, no matter how hard it is. I will just take whatever comes and use the practice to spontaneously liberate that state!" Be this way rather than timid and afraid, always shying away from difficult situations. It is very hard to be a Vajrayana practitioner with a timid, chicken-hearted attitude toward life.
The teachings I discuss here belong to the vehicle of Vajrayana. The Sanskrit word vajra literally means "diamond," which is the hardest of all substances. A diamond can cut any other substance, but it cannot itself be cut by anything else. The diamond's strength and impenetrability signify that when the true view of Vajrayana has dawned within our stream of being, we develop a quality of being unmoved or unshaken by obstacles and difficulties. Whatever kind of harm may present itself, whether it be a negative emotion or a physical pain, we have a certain quality of being unassailable, instead of immediately becoming lost and being defeated by that obstacle. The true practitioner of Vajrayana is unassailable in the face of difficulty. We can succeed in really improving our motivation, and that would be wonderful, not only for ourselves, but also for being able to benefit others.
Excerpted from Fearless Simplicity by Tsoknyi Rinpoche, published by Rangjung Yeshe Publications, 2003.
Tsoknyi Rinpoche, born in 1966 in Nepal, is the head of the Ngesdön Ösel Ling Monastery in Kathemandhu. Among his principal teachers is his father, Dzogchen master Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche. This excerpt is from his new book, Fearless Simplicity (Rangjung Yeshe Publications).

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Women Should Be Honored

One of the notable features of the tantric movement is an emphasis on the spiritual capacities of women. Classical Indian literature indicates that extreme misogyny was prevalent in the society, which makes this aspect of tantra even more significant. An example of the emphasis on the equality of women is the fact that one of the basic vows required of all tantric practitioners is a pledge not to denigrate women, "who are the bearers of wisdom." The following passage from the Chandamaharoshana Tantra expresses a similar sentiment in its praises of women.
One should honor women.
Women are heaven, women are truth,
Women are the supreme fire of transformation.
Women are Buddha, women are the religious community.
Women are the perfection of wisdom.