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Essence of Buddhism : An Introduction to Its Philosophy and Practice

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This lucid overview—which has come to be regarded by many as the best introductory book on Tibetan Buddhism—looks at its subject from the perspective of the three traditional “vehicles”: the Hinayana, the Mahayana, and the Vajrayana. These divisions are often presented as a historical development, but here Traleg Kyabgon equates them with the attitudes that we bring to our Buddhist practice. Basic to them all is the need to understand our own immediate condition. The primary tool for achieving this is meditation, and The Essence of Buddhism serves as a handbook for the various meditative approaches of Buddhist practice.

Beginning with the most basic teaching of the Four Noble Truths, Traleg Rinpoche goes on to incorporate the expansive vision of the bodhisattva path and the transformative vision of Tantra. The final chapters present the transcendent view of Mahamudra. Along the way, the author provides vivid definitions of fundamental concepts such as compassion, emptiness, and Buddha-nature.

Includes a foreword from Sogyal Rinpoche.


TRALEG KYABGON (1955–2012) was born in Eastern Tibet and educated by many great masters of all four major lineages of Tibetan Buddhism. He is the founder of the Kagyu E-Vam Buddhist Institute, which is headquartered in Melbourne, Australia, with a major practice center in upstate New York and a practice community in New York City. He taught extensively at universities and Buddhist centers in the U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Southeast Asia beginning in 1980, and is the author of numerous books that present Buddhist teachings to Western readers, including Mind at Ease.


This lucid overview—which has come to be regarded by many as the best introductory book on Tibetan Buddhism—looks at its subject from the perspective of the three traditional “vehicles”: the Hinayana, the Mahayana, and the Vajrayana. These divisions are often presented as a historical development, but here Traleg Kyabgon equates them with the attitudes that we bring to our Buddhist practice. Basic to them all is the need to understand our own immediate condition. The primary tool for achieving this is meditation, and The Essence of Buddhism serves as a handbook for the various meditative approaches of Buddhist practice.

Beginning with the most basic teaching of the Four Noble Truths, Traleg Rinpoche goes on to incorporate the expansive vision of the bodhisattva path and the transformative vision of Tantra. The final chapters present the transcendent view of Mahamudra. Along the way, the author provides vivid definitions of fundamental concepts such as compassion, emptiness, and Buddha-nature.


Includes a foreword from Sogyal Rinpoche.


TRALEG KYABGON (1955–2012) was born in Eastern Tibet and educated by many great masters of all four major lineages of Tibetan Buddhism. He is the founder of the Kagyu E-Vam Buddhist Institute, which is headquartered in Melbourne, Australia, with a major practice center in upstate New York and a practice community in New York City. He taught extensively at universities and Buddhist centers in the U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Southeast Asia beginning in 1980, and is the author of numerous books that present Buddhist teachings to Western readers, including Mind at Ease.


TRALEG KYABGON


SHAMBHALA


The essence of Buddhism: an introduction to its philosophy and practice/by Traleg Kyabgon.


1. Religious life—Buddhism.

2. Buddhism—Doctrines.


This book is dedicated to His Holiness the Dalai Lama, His Holiness the sixteenth Karmapa, and His Eminence Drugpa Thugsey Rinpoche.

Acknowledgments


PREFACE


IT MIGHT SEEM that there is no need for another introductory book on Buddhism, since today there is a plethora of quality books available on the market, which was not the case a decade ago. However, after some thought, I was persuaded that there may be room for another book, one that introduces the general public to the Tibetan form of Buddhism approached from the perspective of the Kagyü school, which is the second oldest lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. It seems to me that some introductory books are either too elementary or too scholarly to be immediately accessible to newcomers to Buddhism. Moreover, I have not yet seen an accessible introductory book that makes the teachings on the three yanas of Tibetan Buddhism easily understandable to a student who is totally new to Buddhism or even to more experienced students. As a writer, one has a dilemma over how much detail to present. I have tried to maintain this difficult balance so that the text will be neither too shallow nor too dense and inaccessible.

The text—based upon teachings I have given in Australia, Europe, and the United States—is divided into three parts, each devoted to one of the three yanas. Chapters 1 through 4 introduce the student to the basic principles of early Buddhist teachings. Here the teachings on the Four Noble Truths and Buddhist training on moral precepts, concentration, and wisdom are discussed in some detail. The fourth chapter is devoted to karma and rebirth, which is a central feature in traditional Tibetan Buddhist teachings.

The second part is devoted to sutric Mahayana teachings and tantric Mahayana teachings. Here I deal with what sort of obstacles, impediments, and obscurations we need to overcome, the means we employ to overcome them, and the result of having used these antidotes. This is presented from the point of view of the sutric and tantric descriptions of the path and stages of spiritual development.

The final part is devoted to the teachings and to meditation, which is seen as the culmination of the three-yana system, and that is from the point of view of the Mahamudra tradition, which is seen as going beyond Tantra itself.

It is my wish that this book will be of use to newcomers and to seasoned Buddhists as well. In my mind, if only one person is turned toward the Dharma for having read this book, I will feel more than amply rewarded.


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


I WOULD LIKE TO THANK all of my students to whom I have had the opportunity to give discourses and discuss the topics broached in this book. I have always found teaching to be the best way to learn the Dharma. Teaching the Buddha-Dharma is just as beneficial and profitable as is receiving the teachings from a living master. Everything I know about Buddhism I learned from Khenpo Sodar and Khenpo Noryang of Sangngag Choling Monastery in Darjeeling, India. I would like to thank Deirdre Collings and Vyvyan Cayley for their help in preparing this book. I would also like to thank Samuel Bercholz for his inspiration and encouragement and Kendra Crossen Burroughs for her excellent editorial work. And I would like to thank Shambhala Publications for allowing this book to see the light of day.

1

FUNDAMENTALS


The Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Noble Path


IN THIS BOOK we shall look at various aspects of the Buddhist tradition, and in particular at how Buddhism developed as a philosophy. This is so that we can get a comprehensive idea of Buddhism as a whole, because the type of Buddhism practiced by Tibetans is not based on one particular school of Buddhism as such; rather, it tries to incorporate a variety of practices and philosophical thought from many different traditions. This is known as the “three yanasperspective on Buddhism. Yana (Sanskrit) is the spiritualvehicle” that transports the individual from the samsaric condition to the freedom of nirvana.

So even though Tibetan Buddhists may emphasize certain aspects of Mahayana teachings, this does not mean that they do not practice any aspect of the Theravadin tradition as we find it in Thailand, Sri Lanka, and other countries. Some people feel that Tibetan Buddhism has no link or association with the Buddhism that is practiced in those countries. But Tibetan Buddhism contains elements of teachings as we find them in all parts of the world—for example, we can even find elements of the Zen tradition in Tibetan Buddhism.


THE BUDDHA’S AWAKENING


Buddhism was founded by the Buddha about twenty-five hundred years ago. What we know about the Buddha is that he claimed to have seen the reality of things and to have gained enormous insight into the nature of the human condition. He did not claim to be an incarnation of some higher being nor to be a messenger of any kind. Neither did he say that he was an intermediary between some higher reality and human beings. He said that he was an ordinary human being who applied himself through the practice of meditation and was able to purify his own mind, so that insight was born in him, enabling him to see things as they are. And Buddha also said that this ability can be developed by anyone.

At the time of the Buddha, some people were claiming that only those of a certain social standing who were sanctioned by a divine being had the ability to aspire toward higher religious goals, while other, “lesser” beings did not have that ability. Others were saying that men had the ability to develop themselves spiritually but women lacked that capacity. The Buddha said that this ability to develop in a religious

sense has nothing to do with our social or cultural background, our religious background, or even our sex, but is available to everyone who spends the time and makes the effort to develop the insight. For this reason Buddha is known as the Enlightened One, because to gain this insight into the nature of things is to become enlightened, and that is the same as Buddhahood. The word buddha literally means “awakened.”

As ordinary human beings we are not fully awake, because our thoughts and behavior are conditioned by ignorance, confusion, misunderstanding, and lack of insight. When the mind is purified of all these defilements or pollutants (also referred to as “obscurations”) and the consciousness becomes pure and aware, then one is able to realize the nature of things; and this is the same as the attainment of Buddhahood.

We must remember that the Buddha gave these teachings within the context of the Indian tradition. He rejected two major Indian traditions. One is the teachings that came from the Upanishads, which emphasized the importance of realizing the nature of one’s own self as being identical with the reality of the world. The essence of the world is perceived as Brahman, the Absolute, and this is identical with the pure nature of one’s own self, which is Atman. Thus, the aim of a religious practitioner is to realize the identity of one’s own higher self and the reality of the world. The Buddha rejected that as being an extreme position, which he called the eternalist or absolutist position.

He also rejected another extreme position, which was materialist-based. Believers in this extreme, called Ajivikas or Lokayatas, rejected the existence of consciousness and moral responsibility because they believed that we are made up of five elements that dissolve at the time of death, leaving nothing. There is no consciousness that persists after death, and because there is no consciousness we cannot talk of morality or anything of this nature, since these are just social conventions. The Buddha called these people nihilists.

He said that the followers of the Upanishads, the absolutists, overestimated reality, positing the existence of many kinds of things that in fact have no existence. The Buddha said that there is no essence or reality to be found either in the world or in the nature of the self; these are metaphysical constructions, fictions created by the human mind but not available to human experience.

At the same time, the nihilists underestimated reality by rejecting the existence of consciousness and so on. So the Buddha taught what he called the middle view. In terms of practice it is known as the Middle Way. The Buddha realized that many people either were very lax in their morality, overindulging in sense gratification, or engaged in extreme ascetic practices like self-mortification. According to the Buddha, both of these two methods are inappropriate for realizing the nature of reality. He himself engaged in ascetic practices for some time but found them wanting. However, he emphasized the importance of restraint and moderation, not falling into the extreme of overindulgence.


THE FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS

The Truth of Suffering


This teaching is contained in the Four Noble Truths, in which Buddha emphasized how the middle view is to be cultivated and how to practice the Middle Way. The first of the Four Noble Truths is suffering, which is the usual translation of the Sanskrit word duhkha (Pali, dukkha). We should qualify that translation by saying that this does not mean that the Buddha didn’t acknowledge the existence of happiness or contentment in life. The point that he was making is that there is happiness and also sorrow in the world; but the reason why

everything we experience in our everyday life is said to be duhkha is that even when we have some kind of happiness, it is not permanent; it is subject to change. So unless we can gain insight into that truth and understand what is really able to give us happiness, and what is unable to provide happiness, the experience of dissatisfaction will persist.

Normally we think our happiness is contingent upon external circumstances and situations, rather than upon our own inner attitude toward things, or toward life in general. The Buddha was saying that dissatisfaction is part of life, even if we are seeking happiness and even if we manage to find temporary happiness. The very fact that it is temporary means that sooner or later the happiness is going to pass. So the Buddha said that unless we understand this and see how pervasive dissatisfaction or duhkha is, it is impossible for us to start looking for real happiness.

According to the Buddha, even when we think we are trying to find real happiness, we are not doing it effectively, because we don’t have the right attitude and we don’t know where to look for it. The Buddha was not against happiness; rather, he gave us a method of finding out how to overcome that sense of dissatisfaction, and this method is part of the last Noble Truth. We shall come to that in a few pages.

The key to understanding the truth of suffering is what the Buddha called the “three marks” of everything that exists. All conditioned phenomena,1 he said, are pervaded by these three marks: impermanence (anitya), dissatisfaction or suffering (duhkha), and insubstantiality (anatman, “without self”). According to the Buddha, if we do not understand how conditioned phenomena are marked by these three aspects, then we will not be able to understand the first Noble Truth. We may do all we can in order to avoid facing the fact that everything is

contingent and transient—we may try to hide ourselves from it, and we may even spin out all kinds of metaphysical theories of an unchanging, permanent, substantial reality to avoid this all-pervasive nature of ephemerality. Also, if we do not understand that conditioned phenomena are unsatisfactory, we will not think about restraining ourselves from overindulgence in sensory gratifications, which makes us lose our center and become immersed

in worldly concerns, so that our life is governed by greed, craving, and attachment. All of these things disturb the mind. If we do not understand that everything is insubstantial—anatman—then we may believe that there is some kind of enduring essence or substance in things, or in the personality, and because of this belief we generate delusion and confusion in the mind.


The Origin of Suffering


The second Noble Truth is the origin of suffering, which means that once we have realized that suffering or dissatisfaction exist, we next have to find out where that suffering comes from: does it originate within, or does it come from some kind of external situation or condition? The Buddha said that when we start to examine ourselves and see how we respond to situations, how we act in the world, how we feel about things, then we will realize that the cause of suffering is within. This is not to say that external social or economic conditions don’t create suffering; but the main suffering that afflicts us is created by our own mind and attitude.

The Buddha said that if we want to overcome dissatisfaction, which is intimately linked with our experience of suffering, then we have to deal with craving, grasping, clinging, and attachment—all these exaggerated forms of desire. Now, some people think that Buddhists encourage the idea of eradicating desire altogether, but that is not what the Buddha said. He said that we should try to overcome excessive and

exaggerated forms of desire, which manifest as craving, grasping, and so on, because they make our condition worse by increasing our sense of dissatisfaction and discontentment. It is the more obsessive types of desire that the Buddha said we should try to overcome. As long as we have these strong forms of desire, they will always be accompanied by aversion, hatred, resentment, and so forth, because when we can’t get what we want, we become frustrated, angry, and resentful. Or, if we find some obstacles in the way of satisfying our desire, we want to

eliminate them, eradicate them, or attack them. We may even resort to violence and deception in order to satisfy our greed and craving. So the Buddha said that we need to deal with these extreme forms of desires; but we should not aim to eradicate desire altogether, because we can use desire in all kinds of positive ways as well. (We will look at that later.)

The Goal: The Cessation of Suffering


The third Noble Truth is the goal. First we find out about the human condition, how it is pervaded by a sense of dissatisfaction, then we look at the cause of that dissatisfaction, and after that we look at the goal, which is the attainment of nirvana. Some people think nirvana is some kind of absolute reality that is transcendent and otherworldly. But the Buddha said that one can attain nirvana while still living in this world; this is called “nirvana with remainder.” One can also attain nirvana at the time of death, which is called “nirvana

without remainder.” So it is possible to achieve nirvana in this very lifetime. Achieving nirvana means that one’s mind is no longer afflicted by delusion and emotional afflictions. The mind becomes tranquil, and one’s experience of happiness is no longer dependent upon external situations and circumstances. Therefore, one’s reaction to things is less extreme, and one is able to maintain a sense of tranquillity and peace, even when faced by adverse circumstances.

This is so because the one who has attained nirvana has overcome the three root delusions of attraction, aversion, and ignorance. When the mind is no longer governed by strong emotional reactions of either attraction and aversion, we can be at peace and tranquil even when things are not going right. We maintain a sense of fortitude and face things courageously.

The Path: The Way Out of Suffering


Having realized that this is the goal—to achieve a permanent happiness that is not based upon external changing conditions—we then have to find out how to apply ourselves in order to achieve that goal. This is what the fourth Noble Truth explains. The fourth Noble Truth is the path, and this is the essence of Buddhist practice. Known as the Eightfold Noble Path, it is oriented toward developing three things in an individual:

moral sensitivity, meditation or the concentrated mind, and wisdom. Through the practice of moral sensitivity we become better individuals, able to overcome our egocentric tendencies. We become more compassionate and more sensitive to the needs of others. Through the practice of meditation our mind becomes more focused, more resilient, and more aware, which in turn gives rise to wisdom.

The Eightfold Noble Path consists of Right Understanding, Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration. The first two truths of Right Understanding and Right Thought correspond to the development of wisdom. Right Speech, Right Action, and Right Livelihood all develop our moral sensitivities. The last three—Right Effort, Right Mindfulness and Right Concentration—foster our meditative capabilities.

Right Understanding means understanding the Buddhist view, which, as we saw, is the middle view between eternalism and nihilism. As the Buddha said, knowing how the world arises due to causes and conditions enables us not to fall into the extreme of nihilism. The other

aspect of the middle view is knowing how everything ceases when causes and conditions cease. Therefore, we do not fall into the extreme of the substantialist, essentialist, or eternalist view, because we realize that, even though things come into being through causes and conditions, nothing that exists on the physical or mental plane endures when those causes and conditions are no longer present.

Right Thought is associated with seeing how our thoughts and emotions are closely linked, and how indulging in negative forms of thought leads to the development of negative emotions such as hatred and jealousy. Conversely, thinking in a positive way has an effect on our emotions, whereby we start to become more loving, more caring, and more sensitive to others.

Right Speech means that if we are not aware—as normally we are not—then we don’t know what we are saying or doing. Inadvertently, we indulge in all kinds of negative forms of speech such as lying, backbiting, haughty speech, and gossip. It is important to become aware of our speech, because what we say and how we say it have a direct influence on the kind of person we become. If we are always using harsh words, then we naturally become very aggressive.

Right Action relates to seeing how what we do is beneficial or harmful to ourselves and others. This is involved with developing skill in the way we act in the world. Instead of thinking that we already know what is the right thing to do and what is the wrong thing to do, in a clear-cut manner, it is important to look closely at the way we act. We should not simply rely on some preestablished rules or social norms; instead we should see how we as individuals act in the world and what the effects of our actions are upon ourselves, the environment, and other people.

With respect to Right Livelihood, the Buddha said that there is nothing wrong with making money and looking after one’s family, but we must know how to make a living in a way that does not cause harm to others or ourselves. So, for example, we do not engage in an occupation that involves cruelty to animals or human beings, or one that obliges us to use deception or inflict physical or mental pain on others. If these things are involved, then we should give up that form of livelihood.

Right Effort has four aspects. The first effort has to do with prevention: making an effort through meditation to ensure that one does not yield to unwholesome thoughts and emotions, and trying to prevent these from arising in the mind. Unwholesome thoughts originate in attachment, aversion, and ignorance. The second effort is to reduce the unwholesome thoughts and emotions that have already arisen

in the mind. The third effort is to develop wholesome thoughts and emotions, and this also is done in meditation. Even if they are not yet present, we should make an effort to arouse them. The fourth effort is to cultivate further those wholesome thoughts and emotions that have already risen in the mind.

Right Mindfulness is associated with becoming more attentive to our thoughts, emotions, feelings, speech, and behavior in meditation. Whatever we experience, we become more conscious of it and more attentive to it, so that we gain more insight into the workings of the mind and how the mind influences our actions in everyday life.

Right Concentration also develops from meditation. The mind becomes more focused and less distracted. Even if we hear or see or think of something, the mind does not become distracted but is still able to maintain a state of concentration.

So that is the Eightfold Noble Path, which leads the individual from this condition of samsara2 to the attainment of nirvana, or enlightenment. As we can see, the Four Noble Truths are both descriptive and prescriptive. They describe the condition we are in—what sort of conditions are prevalent and what the problems are. They also prescribe in terms of how to improve our situation, overcome our sense of dissatisfaction, and attain enlightenment through following the Eightfold Noble Path and its training in morality, meditation, and wisdom.

As I have said, the Four Noble Truths are the essence of all of the Buddha’s teachings. Without understanding them, we cannot proceed. All the later interpretations of the original Buddhist teachings are based on the understanding of the Four Noble Truths. There may be different ways of understanding how we can train in meditation, wisdom, or morality, but there is no disagreement in terms of the importance of the understanding of the Four Noble Truths. All other practices are based upon or elaborate these fundamental teachings of Buddhism.

1. “Conditioned phenomena” (Skt. samskrita; Pali sankhate) means that everything that exists is mutually conditioned owing to causes and conditions: things come into existence, persist for some time, and then disintegrate, thus suggesting the impermanent nature of the empirical world.

2. Samsara (Skt.) is cyclic existence, in which—owing to the corrupting influences of the mental delusions of hatred, desire, and ignorance—sentient creatures are compelled to wander from one life form to another without respite until they meet up with the spiritual path.


ETHICAL CONDUCT


Doing What Is Truly Beneficial


FROM THE BUDDHIST POINT OF VIEW, a spiritual practitioner’s ultimate aim is to attain self-realization or self-knowledge, to reach his or her full potential. That is equated with Buddhahood or enlightenment. So for a Buddhist it is very important to understand the immediate condition that we are in and the experiences we have. When we look around, we see that beings experience a lot of suffering in a variety of ways.

We don’t have to look very far to find suffering. Every time we turn on the television we see suffering: in the Middle East, in Asia and in Africa, in America. Suffering is endemic to the human condition. But when we talk about suffering in Buddhist terms, we don’t simply mean the suffering with which we can actually identify and which we can label as real suffering. This kind of suffering is obvious, such as atrocities and oppression, repressive regimes that torture innocent people, and so on.

When Buddhists talk about suffering, they mean other kinds of suffering as well—experiences that we think are not suffering at all but happiness, the ultimate goal that we should be striving toward. When we speak of duhkha, we mean a sense of dissatisfaction, which covers a whole range of human experiences.


THREE KINDS OF SUFFERING


From the Buddhist point of view, suffering can be experienced on three different levels. First is the suffering of pain (duhkha-duhkhata). This is the kind of obvious suffering of war, famine, political oppression, injustice, and so on.

Then there is the suffering of change (viparinama-duhkhata). That’s the kind of suffering that we do not usually think of as real suffering. You may think, “Well, at work lately I’ve been under a lot of stress, but I’ll take a holiday and have a good time, and then I’ll be really happy.” Then you go, and you may end up arguing with your partner or you may have a lot of problems with booking airfares; or when you arrive, your luggage may be lost and you can’t recover it. You may have all kinds of experiences that you could not foresee, so that what is initially pleasurable can turn into a form of suffering. That’s the suffering of change.

The last form of suffering is known as the suffering of conditioned existence (samsara-duhkhata), which means that just by virtue of being human or a living creature, we are a product of causes and conditions. When we are born, we experience birth trauma; when we grow up, we have all kinds of problems associated with adolescence; after that, we have problems associated with adulthood and finally with old age, with the weakening of the body. So we experience suffering, pain, and illness, and eventually we die and that’s the end of the story. That is the human condition, that is what we have to deal with.

Some Western commentators on Buddhism have said that Buddhism is pessimistic because it concentrates so much on suffering. But actually, it is not pessimistic; it is realistic. The truth of suffering need not make us feel pessimistic and hopeless. There is a way that we can try to understand it. We have to be able to face up to unpleasant experiences and situations, the reality of things, the facts as they are. That is the real concern of Buddhism; because if we are not able to do that, then we will have this temptation to think that what is not really the source of happiness is the one thing that is going to give us happiness. (I am going to explain what that means shortly.)

So first of all, when we understand that there is suffering in the world, we must correctly identify the source of that suffering. Suffering comes from within, from the mind. This is extremely important, because all kinds of people have tried to understand what is really the cause of suffering. Some people say that it is due to our sin, others say that it is because we have become distant from God or we have disobeyed God. Still others say it has to do with our social structures, our economic system, the repression of sexual instincts, childhood traumas, or alienation.

From the Buddhist point of view, these are just intermediary causes of our suffering rather than the real cause, which is ignorance: not knowing what is beneficial and what is not beneficial; not knowing what will really produce our happiness and what will increase our unhappiness and suffering. Lack of knowledge, lack of insight—this is the real cause.

So we have to look within. That does not mean we should disregard the injustice and repression that goes on in the world, but we should always look at these things as reflections of ourselves and what is going on in our own minds. What happens in the external world mirrors what is going on in the minds of individual human beings. We may blame a big corporation for being greedy, for exploiting a Third World country, and so on, but that may not be very different from small-business people doing exactly the same thing with their employees.

In Third World countries, people may look at the so-called First World countries with a sense of envy or hostility, and even with some kind of respect, a mixture of feelings. Similarly, we may look at people who are successful, who are millionaires, and feel a sense of envy, and also feel a sense of respect for the fact that they have achieved something we haven’t. It is very easy to project all these things onto others and think that what is wrong is that society is not functioning well or that the big corporations are doing terrible things. In this way of thinking there is always someone else to blame, without looking at how the situation has come about in the first place.

Societies and big corporations are not amorphous entities but are made up of a collection of individuals just like ourselves. So for Buddhists it is not God who has created the world but our own mind—the mind is the one responsible for all our experiences: joy, happiness, pain, suffering. This is not only in terms of what we experience; the mind also fabricates the kind of world that we live in. The world that we live in is created by our mind.

Therefore, it is very important as a Buddhist to understand how the mind functions, and that is why the practice of meditation is so important for Buddhists. It has nothing to do with creating a state closer to a greater reality or some kind of spiritual reality that is independent of our mind. The practice of meditation has to do with the greater understanding of ourselves. A lot of our problems come

about precisely because we do not understand ourselves, we do not have self-knowledge, we have no insight into ourselves. It is because of ignorance, which is called avidya in Sanskrit. In order to find out how the mind works, we have to see what sort of things will promote our happiness and what sort of things will increase our pain and suffering.


THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS


Normally we think that doing this, that, and the other thing will bring us happiness. We think, “When I get acknowledged by my friends, if they like me, then I’ll be happy; if I’m married and have children and have a loving partner who will take care of me, then I’ll be so happy; if I don’t have to work so hard but have a lot of money, then I’ll be so happy.”

This line of thought is endless. If you are short, then you think that if you were tall you would be so happy; or if you were thin, then you’d be so happy. If you have a long nose, you think a smaller nose would be so wonderful; or if you are bald, you think you should have hair. Such beliefs do have an element of truth in them. Buddhists would agree that if you were healthier, of course you would be happier. If you had a supportive family, you would be much happier.

But the problem is that these things only produce temporary happiness, not lasting happiness. As Buddhists, our aim should not be just to achieve temporary happiness. Buddhists do not say that there is no happiness at all, or that no matter what you do it is all suffering, suffering, and more suffering. But we should have a proper perspective on our life, by which I mean that we should try to attain lasting happiness.

When we rely on temporary happiness, we are investing too much in something that is full of uncertainties. If we rely too much on our work, we may spend twenty years working for a particular company, and we put so much into it so that our whole perception of ourselves is fashioned by the work we do for that company and the kind of acquisitions we are able to realize as a result of that work. Then one day we may get sacked, and all of a sudden our whole reality falls apart and we feel like committing suicide. This actually happens to some people.

Buddhism says that we should have our own priorities in order. To obtain happiness, we must have inner peace. Real, lasting happiness is not obtained from an external source. This doesn’t mean that we can’t have happiness based upon external circumstances and situations, but the real, lasting happiness must come from within. When we become too dependent on external circumstances and situations, we lose ourselves in them. Instead of

consolidating our identity, instead of finding ourselves, we actually lose ourselves. We all know this. We know a person who has been in a work environment for many, many years and who all of a sudden thinks, “Wait a minute, what have I been doing? I haven’t done anything with my life.” Or people who have been raising children for twenty or thirty years, always doing things for the family, for the kids. All of a sudden the mother might say, “Oh, look, I haven’t done anything to find out who I am, what it is to be me.” We can become completely lost,

instead of finding ourselves. Normally our identity is almost exclusively conditioned by the kind of credentials we have, which school we went to, what sort of education we have had, what degrees we have, what sort of family we have, what suburb we live in, what car

we drive. Buddhism says we should not rely too much on these things, because the car could be repossessed, or the liquidators could come and take our business away. Anything can happen. Your spouse may take on a lover, who knows? Of course, we should certainly aspire toward excellence in our work and parenting and so on, but we should keep things in perspective and not expect more than they can deliver.

Having realized that, we can move on to considering the Buddhist path as a means of overcoming this problem. As we have seen, the Eightfold Noble Path consists of training in morality (shila), meditation (samadhi), and wisdom (prajna). These three trainings basically enable us to change our behavior as well as our way of thinking and experiencing. Let us begin by concentrating on training in morality, or shila.


TRAINING IN MORALITY (Shila)


When we talk about morality, we normally think in terms of duty or obligation, but Buddhist morality is essentially concerned with what is beneficial (kusala) versus what is harmful (akusala). We should judge our actions in relation to whether we are benefiting ourselves and others or harming ourselves and others. In this way Buddhist morality is grounded in human experience. It has no reference to a supernatural being. We do not have to have a concept of a deity or God in order to have a concept of morality or to appreciate the importance of morality.

Some people feel that if we did not believe in God, then everything would be permissible; but then, on the other hand, those same people say that God has his own law, distinct from human law. The law or morality pertaining to human beings has no relevance when it comes

to what God wants to do, in which case this human law and morality become arbitrary. This philosophical debate dates back to Plato, who asked: Is something good because God said it is good, or is it good independently of God? If it is good independently of God, then it has nothing to do with God; but if it is good only because God said so, then this means it is totally arbitrary.

According to Buddhism, a particular action is good because it is good in itself, not because God decreed it to be so. My point here is that Buddhist morality is not founded upon any theological basis whatsoever. What is a good action or what is a bad action is determined by a moral criterion only, not a theological one, and there is no need for theological justifications.

For Buddhists, a particular action is morally wrong precisely because it causes suffering to other people or to a large number of sentient beings. Thus, leading a moral life is not like being an obedient person or conforming to a preestablished law or norm. The Buddha said that morality should be seen as a liberating experience. Instead of being a constricting force that demands, “Thou shalt do this” or “Thou shalt not do that,” morality is a liberating influence, because it can enhance our well-being.

Freud, who was brought up in the Jewish tradition, thought that the conflict between id and superego meant that the id wants to do nasty things and the superego says, “No, you can’t.” We are not thinking like this; instead of creating more conflict between what we want to do and what we are allowed to do, we find that what we should do will become what we want to do.

The Buddha said that shila is like a cool breeze that blows at midday or in the afternoon of an Indian summer. That cool breeze can be so refreshing. He said that when we start to practice morality in this way, we realize that all our mental agitation, all our resentment, hostility, and bitterness, actually begin to subside. Instead of increasing our mental agitation by thinking, “I’m on the side of the

good and you’re on the side of the evil, so let’s fight,” we begin to become more open and more understanding of people from different cultures and backgrounds. When we look at life not in terms of what is right and what is wrong, but in terms of what is beneficial and what is not beneficial, then we can have a different experience of morality.

It is a very important point, also, that doing what is “right” is not always beneficial, and doing what is “wrong” is not always harmful. Buddhist morality is not a self-imposed moral world unto itself. It is an open-ended one, and we have to use our own judgment much of the time, in terms of what

is beneficial and what is harmful. Lacking in wisdom as we are, it is very difficult to foresee the consequences of our actions. But the other component of morality is motivation. If we do something with a pure intention, then even though, out of a lack of wisdom, our action may turn out harmful rather than beneficial, that action is not morally condemnable.

With this background of Buddhist ethics in mind, we can now look at the moral guidelines Buddha provided for his followers. Which actions should we refrain from and which actions should we take, with the view to helping ourselves and others?


SIX TRANSCENDENTAL ACTIONS (Paramitas)


First we look at what the Buddha thought we should strive toward. These actions are called paramitas (Tibetan, pharol tu chimpa), or “transcendental actions.” The six paramitas are best known in Mahayana Buddhism, and I will return to these later. However, early Buddhism also talked about six paramitas. These transcendental actions are not oriented toward increasing our defilements or obscurations, or toward increasing our emotional conflict or conceptual confusions; they are actions that help to alleviate these very things.

The first one is giving. Apart from giving material things to the needy, it also involves social work and giving to relief funds and other charities. In Buddhist countries we also try to liberate captive animals, releasing fish into the sea or buying captive birds from the market and setting them free, as a way of giving back their life. This is seen as a very important practice. The effects of giving are important not only to the recipient but to the giver as well. When we learn to give, we become less attached and less dependent on our possessions. This is how we can learn to be less greedy and grasping.

The second practice is conduct. Conduct means that we take responsibility for our own actions. As soon as something goes wrong, instead of thinking that we are the victim of circumstances or of society or family upbringing, we should take full responsibility for our

actions. In fact, when we take full responsibility for our actions, we become a full person and we begin to feel free, because freedom and responsibility go together. When we feel like the victim, there is no freedom; we feel impotent, incapacitated. But when we feel that we are responsible for our actions, then we feel free, because how can we be responsible for something if we have no choice?

The third paramita is restraint. This means that we should not be excessive in our indulgences or in our pursuit of pleasure. We should be aware of ourselves, so that we do not become addicted to whatever it is that gives us pleasure, and we should be able to make distinctions between our needs and our wants. We should not just go shopping for the sake of shopping, buying all those clothes that we will never wear or buying all kinds of gadgets that we will never use, and ending up being in debt. Of course, this does not mean we should walk around in rags or that we may not be fashion-conscious or dress properly.

The fourth practice is wisdom. Cultivation of wisdom involves understanding impermanence, realizing that everything is contingent and subject to change. We will go into that later when we start to talk about training in wisdom. Many people say that everything is impermanent, but when Buddhists talk about impermanence, they mean something more than just knowing that things change. The fifth paramita

is energy. This means that we must have willpower; because if we do not have willpower, if we are suffering from weakness of will, then we can’t stop what we should not be doing and we can’t do what we should be doing. Without willpower we feel helpless to break through that chain; we feel dependent and the victim of circumstances. So it is very important to develop that sense of willpower or energy.

The sixth virtue that we should be cultivating is patience. Patience obviously means that we should not look for immediate gratification. We should allow time for things to develop and not expect instant results. We should not be too hasty in whatever we do, wanting things to work in a very short period of time. Of course it also means that we should have more tolerance toward disappointments, setbacks, and failures. Just because we fail does not mean we should give up. We should persist in an intelligent and relaxed manner, without being pushy or fixated.


FIVE PRECEPTS (Pancha-shila)


That concludes the list of things that we should try to do. Now let us briefly go through the other list of things that we should try not to do, according to the Buddha’s moral guidelines. I say “moral guidelines” because according to the Buddha, these precepts are just guidelines, not rigid laws. We should try to stick to them more in terms of the spirit rather than the letter, not thinking that they are inviolable and fixed.

The things that we should abstain from doing are called pancha-shila: pancha means “five,” shila is “conduct.” The first precept is abstaining from harming sentient beings. Before we can learn how to love others, first we have to learn how not to harm others. We should not harm any sentient being, and this doesn’t mean just human beings, but also animals and even insects. We shouldn’t harm them unnecessarily. In Buddhist countries like Tibet, when farmers have to kill insects, they do so with regret, with a sense of feeling for the insects they kill, rather than seeing them as pests ruining their farmlands.

When Buddhists talk about ahimsa, or “nonharming,” this also includes respect for the environment and biosphere. It means abstaining from harming not only those sentient beings who have self-consciousness, but anything that can grow and prosper and that may be tampered with through human interference. In the teachings it is said that if we develop friendliness, even a venomous snake will respond to it. I was

once in Madhya Pradesh in central India, where there is a Tibetan settlement. There were a lot of snakes there. Because of their Buddhist upbringing, the Tibetans didn’t kill any snakes, but the local Indians would kill the snakes as soon as they spotted them. What I observed was that the Tibetans were able to wander around safely. In this particular monastery, which at the time was a very

temporary kind of shed, snakes would crawl along the beams. Sometimes a monk would be meditating and a snake would come crawling into his lap. The snakes never reacted in an aggressive manner to the monks or to any of the Tibetans, but as soon as they heard Indian

voices, either they would try to escape or they would become very aggressive. I don’t know whether they have some intelligence, or whether through generations the snakes of that area have developed a biological sensitivity to different inputs. Whatever it is, there was a clear difference. In any case, not harming sentient beings is obviously a good thing.

The second guideline says we should abstain from that which is not given. Apart from taking things by force from others, we sometimes try to procure what we desire through trickery, deception, or sweet talk. For example, if your wealthy grandmother is dying, you start to visit the nursing home more often, hoping that she might leave you something, maybe even everything. We all do that sort of thing, I suppose. It includes generally misleading another person or coercing the person into handing over whatever it is you desire, through threat, manipulation, and trickery.

The third precept is abstaining from sexual misconduct. In Buddhism, sex is not seen as something evil or unnatural in itself. Lay Buddhists can have sexual pleasure and normal sex lives without feeling guilt or fear of punishment. However, a warning is given that if one becomes obsessed with sex, like all obsessions it can cause enormous harm to oneself and others.

Once again the real criterion is how much harm one is causing, rather than the sexual act itself. So this should not be misconstrued to mean no sex, or that sex is only for procreation. Abstaining from sexual misconduct means that we should not engage in sexual activities that cause conflict, resentment, or hurt. For example, if we have affairs and this causes pain and suffering to our

partner, then it is sexual misconduct and we should refrain from it. But it is made very clear in the Buddhist teachings that what is acceptable and what is not acceptable in terms of sexual and procreative activities varies from culture to culture, and also from individual to individual, so these factors should be taken into account. Fundamentally, it means those sexual activities that cause harm by creating hurt, resentment, bitterness, and disappointment.

The fourth activity that we should abstain from is false speech. Lying is obviously one example of false speech, but there are others, such as spreading rumors, gossiping, backbiting, character assassination, speaking ill of others. It is not lying itself that is evil, but what lying or what false speech can do. We can see the harm it causes. But there are also exceptions. This is why I said that these are moral guidelines only, because one may do more benefit than harm by telling a lie in some exceptional circumstances. The general rule, however, is that lying is something we should refrain from, particularly when the lie is going to cause harm.

The fifth precept is abstaining from alcohol and other intoxicants. Again, alcohol itself is not to blame; but some people who drink alcohol become influenced by it in a way that is destructive both to themselves and others. We know how much of a problem our societies have with drunk drivers, and cases such as people killing their loved ones while in an alcoholic stupor. Alcohol can impair our

judgment and cause us to lose consciousness, so that we cannot remember what we did while we were drunk. In the Vinaya—the text explaining the rules of life for monks and nuns—when the Buddha talked about abstaining from alcohol and other forms of intoxicants, he told a kind of parable. A monk was out begging for food one day when he came across a woman selling alcohol. She offered him three choices. The

first one was to drink alcohol, the second to kill a goat, and the third to have sex with her. He said, “No, I can’t kill the goat; a Buddhist monk would never do such a thing. I can’t have sex—I’m a monk; I’m celibate. So I’ll take the alcohol.” He drank the beer, and once he got drunk, he killed the goat and had sex with the woman. The Buddha said that’s why alcohol is something we should abstain from, precisely because it can have strange effects on some people.


All the guidelines that we have looked at so far are practical in nature. They give us guidelines for how we should live, what sort of things we should do and what sort of things we should try to refrain from, to increase our own well-being and happiness—lasting happiness, that is—and also to make other people’s lives easier. As you can see from this discussion, in Buddhism we do not subscribe to any form of moral

absolutism. By this I mean that whatever ethical action we choose, we have to take the situation and a variety of factors into account. We cannot have preconceived notions of right and wrong. Moral absolutists may feel that they know what is right and wrong and, consequently, will not face any form of moral dilemma. Buddhism does not take such a view. For example, abortion may not be a good thing, but in certain circumstances

it may be more beneficial to have an abortion than not to have one. If you are starving and have no choice but to steal a loaf of bread, then probably it is more beneficial to steal that bread rather than think, “I subscribe to such-and-such a religious view, which prohibits stealing, so I must allow myself to die rather than steal.” In Buddhist ethics we always have to be aware of certain exceptions such as these. Thus, the paramitas are seen not as moral commandments but as moral guidelines.


MEDITATION


Changing Our Mental Outlook


WITHOUT WISDOM AND INSIGHT, clearly we can never have total self-confidence in what we are doing. With greater insight, we may be able to understand what is truly beneficial and what is truly harmful. Wisdom cannot be developed or cultivated without the practice of meditation, which is the most important part of the Buddhist teachings. It establishes the link between wisdom and ethics or moral conduct. It is through the practice of meditation that we discover which states of mind, emotions, thoughts, and attitudes are beneficial and which are harmful to ourselves and others, and also how these states influence our interaction with other people and the way we live our lives.

If we want to change our behavior, we must have a greater understanding of our own minds and we need to change our attitudes. We also need to change the way we express our emotions. When we do this, we see that negative thoughts and emotions have to be gradually eradicated, not only because they are harmful to others but also because they are fundamentally very harmful to ourselves. That should be the basic motivation for wanting to overcome our negative emotional traits, attitudes, and thoughts.

At a “Mind and Life” conference held in Dharamsala, India, many leading physical scientists, neurologists, psychiatrists, and other specialists met with Buddhist teachers for the purpose of exchanging information. Through reading certain books on Buddhism, these scientists had discovered similarities between Buddhism and their clinical practice. What they had learned was similar to what Buddhists have been saying in relation to how our mental outlook affects our physical health and general well-being.

From a Buddhist point of view, our moral behavior and mental attitudes of necessity have some bearing on our well-being. We refrain from doing certain things not only because they are morally wrong, but because refraining from them fundamentally promotes our well-being. Feelings such as resentment and bitterness gradually make us weak, frustrated, and unhappy, rather than having any impact on the person toward whom we direct these emotions. Probably the other person is away enjoying a nice holiday while we are unable to sleep or eat because we are busy suffering.

When we see how important it is to change our mental outlook, we need a particular technique in order to achieve this. The technique is the practice of meditation. In Buddhism there are two different types of meditation: tranquillity (shamatha) and insight (vipashyana).


THE MEDITATION OF TRANQUILLITY (Shamatha)


The meditation of tranquillity teaches us how to become settled and calm and to concentrate so that our minds are not always reaching out, grabbing on to this and that, and becoming scattered. We learn how to focus our minds, to become centered. We also learn how to be present and not dwell on our past achievements, failures, regrets, or guilt associated with all kinds of things that we may have done or failed to do. Likewise,

we learn how not to dwell on or feel anxious about the future: what we would like to achieve, the possibility of not being able to achieve our goals, the imminent obstacles that we can foresee, and so on. We can learn how to be in the present and remain focused. If we indulge in all these mental activities without focus, we lose our perspective and start to react to things more and more from habitual responses rather than from clear understanding. Through the practice of meditation, we can learn how to be attentive and in the present.

As we sit in meditation and a thought or an emotion arises, we let go of it; we try not to dwell on it. At the same time, we do not anticipate the thoughts or emotions that may arise in the future. When we sit, we try to concentrate, usually on the breath. We try not to judge whatever arises in the mind, but simply let it arise and dissipate. As we become more focused, and as we develop a greater ability to remain in a [[state

of concentration]], the emotional conflicts that we normally experience begin to subside. When they subside, it becomes possible for wisdom to arise. If the mind is disturbed and distracted, it is impossible to develop wisdom.


The Five Hindrances (Nivaranas)


While we are engaged in the meditation of tranquillity, we must be aware of what are known as the five hindrances. The first one of these is called sensual desire. This term alludes to the mind’s tendency always to latch on to something that attracts it—a thought, a visual object, or a particular emotion. When we allow the mind to indulge in such attractions, we lose our concentration. So we need to apply mindfulness and

be aware of how the mind operates; we don’t necessarily have to suppress all these things arising in the mind, but we should take notice of them and see how the mind behaves, how it automatically grabs on to this and that.

The second hindrance is ill will; it is the opposite of the first hindrance, being brought about by aversion rather than attraction. Ill will refers to all kinds of thoughts related to wanting to reject, feelings of hostility, resentment, hatred, and bitterness. When they arise, we should take note of them, not necessarily suppressing them but seeing how they arise. At the same time, we should try to practice loving-kindness meditation, which I shall describe shortly.

The third hindrance to meditation is lethargy and drowsiness. This is a very familiar one for people who meditate. When this hindrance is present, we lose our focus in meditation. We may not be agitated in any perceptible way, but there is no mental clarity. We gradually become more and more drowsy and then eventually go to sleep. When this happens, instead of persisting with the practice of meditation, it is better to try to refresh ourselves by getting up and going for a walk or washing our face, after which we return to our meditation.

The fourth hindrance is restlessness and worry, which refers to all the mental activities that go on in our mind owing to its restless nature. The mind cannot allow us to remain still even for a minute. To counteract this hindrance is once more a matter of applying

mindfulness and seeing how the mind behaves, how it reacts to things, and not judging it in terms of what we are experiencing. If we are experiencing something “bad,” we should not think that it is bad; if it is “good,” we should not think that it is good. We simply take note of what is happening.

The fifth hindrance is called skeptical doubt or, as some have translated it, fear of commitment. When we meditate in the presence of this hindrance, we have a constant nagging feeling: “How do I know that I’m doing it right? How do I know that this thing really works and I’m not just wasting my time? How do I know that what the Buddhist teachings say is true? How do I know that what the meditation teachers have taught me is right and that they are not deluded?”

This excessive skeptical doubt has no value and becomes an obstacle to meditation. To work with this hindrance, we should seek to better understand the mind’s functioning through reading and trying to broaden our knowledge, instead of indulging in this state of doubt.

Through the practice of tranquillity meditation, we begin to see how our mental attitudes, emotions, and thoughts create the kind of person we are, the character and personality that we have. When we realize this, it is possible to become a different person.


The Four Divine Abodes (Brahmaviharas)


In conjunction with the practice of tranquillity, the meditator is also encouraged to practice what are known as the four brahmaviharas. Some translators have rendered these as the four “cardinal virtues of Buddhism,” or as the four “divine abodes.” They are: loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. According to Buddhism, it is not easy for us to become full of loving-kindness or compassion just like that. We have to learn how to do it. We don’t seem to have to train ourselves in how to become obnoxious, but it does take a great deal of effort to develop qualities such as loving-kindness.

Some people have said: “Buddhists simply engage in the meditation of loving-kindness—they don’t do anything.” However, the Buddhist view is that if we develop a real sense of loving-kindness and compassion through meditation, then we will be able to express them much more skillfully in the real world. This does not mean that we have to wait until we attain enlightenment before we can be loving. But by trying to think more positive thoughts, gradually we can become more positive in our outlook, and this will have a more positive impact on others.

Loving-kindness (maitri) meditation is practiced by sending loving benevolence to specific individuals. When we begin to practice loving-kindness, it is said that the object of that practice should not be a “difficult person,” somebody we find hard to get along with, because loving-kindness for that person will not arise naturally. The object of loving-kindness practice should also not be a loved one, because all

kinds of distortions may be introduced into the love that we feel for that person. The object of loving-kindness practice should not be someone to whom we feel indifferent, because, again, at this initial stage it is very hard to try to generate love toward someone in whom we have no interest. It is also said that in the beginning we should not try to do this practice with a person of the opposite sex as the object of practice.1 So what sort of people are left after that?

According to the teachings, we should first practice loving-kindness toward ourselves—we are the person whom we should truly try to love, although not in an egocentric manner. From there, we can transfer that feeling to a large group of people who are in need of love, and then gradually try to expand our horizon by including all sentient beings. It is said that we have to do this step by step.

When we try to generate loving-kindness, we have to make sure that it does not become distorted and turn into attachment. Loving-kindness is a really expansive feeling, whereas attachment is narrow and distorts our vision of things. In Buddhism, loving other sentient beings (not just humans, but all sentient beings) is the ultimate kind of love. There is no difference between eros and agape.

The second divine abode is compassion (karuna), which is developed when we witness suffering. Beings undergo a variety of sufferings—torture, oppression, all kinds of disadvantages and deprivations. When we witness these things, compassion wells up in our hearts. The word compassion literally means “suffering with” others. But in Buddhism, when we feel compassion it is not about suffering with others, but rather seeing the plight they are in and then seeking to alleviate their suffering.

The third divine abode is sympathetic joy (mudita), which means that when others are happy, we rejoice with them. We do not feel envy or jealousy at other people’s happiness; we feel joy because they feel joy.

The last abode is equanimity (upeksha), which is the most important, because without equanimity, loving-kindness can become attachment, compassion can turn into sentimentality, and sympathetic joy can turn into elation. But if we have a proper sense of equanimity, it is possible to keep things in perspective so that our own biases, expectations, and fears do not come in the way of

our ability to express these positive emotions. Even with equanimity, however, we must apply mindfulness, because equanimity may turn into indifference, which is actually its opposite. With a sense of equanimity, we are able to do things for ourselves and others, and we can maintain a broader vision; whereas when we are indifferent, we have no interest whatsoever.


THE MEDITATION OF INSIGHT (Vipashyana)


So through the practice of the meditation of tranquillity we can learn how to create a tranquil state of mind that is not visibly disturbed. But that in itself is not sufficient. We must learn how to develop insight. The practice of the meditation of tranquillity can make it possible for us to develop insight, but by itself it cannot produce insight. For that we must practice the meditation of insight, or vipashyana, beginning with what are known as the four foundations of insight. These are mindfulness of the body, mindfulness of feelings,

mindfulness of the mind, and mindfulness of conditioned things. The practice of the meditation of insight relates to obtaining some insight into, or understanding of, the nature of reality, of how things are. When the mind becomes less deluded, and as the obscurations lessen, it is possible to see things more clearly. This includes seeing things as being impermanent and ever-changing, and seeing that nothing has any enduring essence. Through the four foundations of mindfulness, therefore, we can gain insight into impermanence.

With mindfulness of the body, as we begin to observe the body, its sensations, the breath going in and going out, and our experiences on the physical level, we can see the changes that are taking place in the body. The mindfulness of feelings keeps us in touch with the modulations of how we feel, in terms of pain, pleasure, and neutral feelings, and how these feelings are constantly changing.

Mindfulness of the mind reveals how unstable the mind itself is, in its thoughts, concepts, and ideas. Lastly, mindfulness of conditioned things means realizing that everything is conditioned and a product of causes and conditions. Nothing can exist by itself, including the mind or our notion of the self. When we think of the self, we think of it as some kind of entity that

exists independently of our psychophysical constituents. We talk about “my” body, “my” mind, “my” feelings, “my” perceptions, “my” memory, and so on. Through this practice, as we reflect on our self, for example, we begin to realize that there is no self as an independent entity, that the self is just a collection of physical and mental factors.

We will return to the subject of meditation later, to look at further details of the practice.

1. Classic Theravadin texts on meditation such as the Visudhimagga and the great Mahayana saint and scholar Shantideva’s work Bodhicharyavatara devoted substantial attention to contemplation of the ugly, vile, repulsive aspects of the body. Such meditations were practiced not to see sex as being either impure or intrinsically debased, but in order to remove the attraction toward the opposite gender or perhaps toward the same gender. The use of such meditations is viewed as a therapeutic technique.


KARMA AND REBIRTH


Everything Is in Relationship


WE CANNOT COMPLETE OUR DISCUSSION of early Buddhism without including the very important concepts of karma and rebirth. In Buddhism the idea of causality is extremely important. What we mean by causality is that nothing in existence has any kind of enduring essence. Everything is in relationship; everything exists in a dependent manner. Nothing can exist of its own accord. Therefore, everything that exists is causally dependent, either in the physical or mental realm.

That being the case, we must view morality also in terms of causality. Morality is dependent upon the notion of karma, because karma refers to the law of cause and effect in the moral realm. Whatever we do creates certain mental impressions, which in turn produce karmic residues that later come to fruition when the appropriate causes and conditions are present. When we do something positive, wholesome, and good, certain positive impressions are automatically left in the mind. They produce positive and healthy dispositions in us, so that our experiences in the future will be positive and healthy.

When we look at ourselves and at other people, it may not be immediately apparent how this karmic cause and effect operates. For instance, there are good people who do good things and yet they may be experiencing a lot of suffering. They may be ill, disadvantaged, or oppressed. And there are bad people who are nonetheless enjoying a good life. The theory of reincarnation or rebirth is an extension of the concept of

karma, which means that we have to look at the whole thing in terms of our previous existence. (I don’t like to use the word incarnation because it may imply a preexisting psychic substance or soul, and Buddhism does not accept the existence of an eternal soul that incarnates. However, Buddhism believes in a stream of consciousness that gets transferred from one birth to the next. This [[stream of

consciousness]] is an instance of mental occurrence, arising due to its own internal momentum as well as external stimuli, all of which seemingly perpetuate its continuity over time. It thus serves as the basis for one’s self-identity.) Even though a person may not have done anything wrong in this life, that person can have terrible, unwanted experiences because of what he or she has done in a previous life.

Rebirth does not occur in a haphazard way but is governed by the law of karma. At the same time, good and bad rebirths are not seen as rewards and punishments but as resulting from our own actions. That is why in Tibetan the karmic law is called le gyu dre, which means “karmic cause and effect.” From this we can see how important it is to develop positive and healthy attitudes, because what we do is tied up with the kind of

person we are and the kind of mental attitudes we have. We cannot separate these three, because they are intimately related. If we think negative thoughts, we will become negative persons, and if we become negative persons, we will do negative things. For example, if we indulge in aggressive

thoughts and harbor resentment or bitterness toward others, we will become an aggressive person. When we indulge in negative or aggressive thoughts, those thoughts have a way of working their way into action, so that we become negative, aggressive people

Without some insight into ourselves and our minds, simply paying attention to what we do will not make us better people in a significant way. For this reason, we should be more attentive to our intentions and attitudes than our behavior or actions.

There is no room in the Buddhist precepts for expressions of moral indignation or outrage. The expressions of unbridled negative emotions such as hatred or disgust toward opponents or those who don’t share our own moral worldview are seen as the very root causes of our moral weaknesses. An excessive fixation on “right” and “wrong,” the deluded belief that we are on the side of right and good,

waging a war against what we perceive as being bad, indulging in or harboring thoughts and emotions that would lead to harmful actions and conduct—all these are to be avoided. Thus, as Buddhists, not only should we engage in good and wholesome actions constantly and consistently, but we should be observant of our inner mental states as well. The Buddha said in the Nikayas (Pali sutras of the early Buddhist canon): “O

monks, this I call karma: having had the intention, one acts through body, speech, and mind.” So the intention is more important than the action. If our intention is right and sincere and our mind is pure, then even if we do not pay much attention to the actions themselves, we will be able to act in a way that is conducive to the well-being of others, as well as of ourselves.

Even though the happiness, unhappiness, pleasure, or pain that we experience is proportional to our karmic merit or demerit, we should not just accept the situation in which we find ourselves. Buddhism does not encourage a sense of fatalism. Believing in karma does not mean that we should say, “Well, this is my karma, and my karmic lot is so terrible that I can’t do anything about it. I’m a loser; I’m a

failure.” If we find ourselves in an unsatisfactory situation, we should try to improve it or get out of it. There may be a number of options available. Instead of promoting the idea of fatalism, karmic theory actually supports the idea of taking personal responsibility for our actions.

Many of our experiences are not purely a result of karma but are due to our own folly, negligence, or lack of responsibility. For example, if we get sick, obviously we are not going to say, “Well, it’s because of my karma that I’m sick, so I’m not going to seek medical attention.” We know we should see a doctor and find out what this illness is about. Karmic theory concurs with taking responsibility and wanting to improve the situation, in terms of not only individuals but society as well. Here in the West,

people have criticized Buddhists for not being socially aware and not taking social action. They say that people are poor in the East mainly because, in Buddhist countries, they have been taught that it’s their karma to suffer and be oppressed, that the situation has nothing to do with social factors and there is nothing they can do to improve it.

However, karmic theory does not say that people should just accept the way things are; we should try our best to change things, to transform ourselves, or to improve social conditions. When our best efforts fail, however, that is the time for us to accept the situation. Suppose that no matter what we do, we still can’t change things and there is nothing we can do about it. In such a situation, instead of getting

frustrated, angry, or depressed, we should try to learn to live with it. Feelings of enormous psychological stress, anxiety, and suffering simply make things worse. If we feel extremely angry and frustrated about a situation that we can’t change, that tends to produce more negative karma, and thus we will experience even more torment and suffering in the future.

To use the example of sickness again, we may have tried everything to combat an illness, but nothing has worked. Then it is better to acknowledge that it is our own karma that has made us ill, and there is no cure. It is better to try to accept the situation than to fight or deny it. Trying to live with that sickness is a much healthier attitude than doing something that is not conducive to our own well-being, such as denying the reality of the illness or having misguided confidence in our powers of recovery.

We should not think of the law of karma in terms of a strict one-to-one causal relationship. There are so many factors involved in our daily circumstances. For example, if I physically assault someone, there will be several factors involved: my intention, my action, and the person whom I have hurt physically. All these factors have a bearing on the karmic consequence that I am going to experience. If the person whom I

have struck is a scumbag, as people say, that would be different from hitting a saintly person like Mother Teresa or the Dalai Lama—totally different. Why I hit that person would also have to be taken into account. The law of karma is not so mechanical that if you do a particular action, then invariably a certain effect will manifest. Even if the action is the same, because of these other factors the karmic result may be very different. Thus, the law of karma is not rigid and mechanical but is fluid and malleable.

Good actions, called kusala in Pali or gewa in Tibetan, are “skillful actions” that produce positive experiences and create healthy dispositions. Bad actions, called akusala in Pali or mi gewa in Tibetan, are “unskillful actions” that produce a variety of unwanted psychological experiences. In the Majhimma Nikaya Sutra, the Buddha describes skillful and unskillful actions in the

following manner: “Whatever action—bodily, verbal, or mental—leads to suffering for oneself, for others, or for both, that action is akusala, unskillful action. Whatever action—bodily, verbal, or mental—does not lead to suffering for oneself, for others, or for both, that is skillful action, kusala.”

This statement makes it clear that whenever we do something, we should take our own needs and those of others into account. It is not sufficient to think of others’ needs alone; nor is it sufficient to take only our own needs into account. There must be a balance. If we think of others’ happiness only, we may suffer as a consequence. You may know people who think that they should sacrifice themselves to work for the

benefit of others, not thinking about their own benefit. And, of course, there are others, far greater in number, who think that they should do everything possible to promote their own happiness and forget about others. Thus, skillful action means taking both others’ needs and our own needs into account, so that they are balanced.

According to karmic theory, we as individuals are responsible for our actions. This responsibility carries over into subsequent lives where we receive compensation, good or evil, for the actions we have performed in previous lives. The psychological or internal effects of these past actions are that they produce certain tendencies and dispositions, which contribute toward the shaping and molding of our personalities. We have the choice of either following these tendencies or, through greater self-knowledge, self-discipline, and self-control, learning how to overcome some of our negative tendencies.

The theory of rebirth is a hypothesis that can explain things that we otherwise find quite difficult to understand. The prevalence of suffering and the injustices that exist in the world—such as innocent people suffering from mental and physical retardation or low social status—can be explained according to karmic theory, without having to appeal to some kind of theological

solution. Thus, the “problem of evil” is dealt with very differently in Buddhism and Hinduism than it is in Christianity. Particularly in Buddhism, it is not a theological problem but a moral problem.

The Buddha did not present the theory of rebirth in a dogmatic manner but as a moral wager. He made it clear in the Majhimma Nikaya Sutra that believing in rebirth would encourage us to lead a moral life by assuring us of a pleasant and fulfilling future life. However, even if rebirth does not exist, we have not lost anything by believing in it, because leading a moral life makes us into better human beings, endowing this life with meaning and significance.


MAHAYANA BUDDHISM


Helping Others Is Helping Oneself


NOW WE SHALL TURN to the later period of Buddhism, known as Mahayana. The Mahayana tradition has two aspects: the Sutra tradition of Mahayana and the Tantra tradition of Mahayana. Mahayana is usually distinguished from early Buddhism, or Hinayana, which literally means “small vehicle.” Mahayana is the “large vehicle.” The basic point here is that a follower of the Hinayana path has embarked upon a path with a very narrow vision or goal, insofar as that particular person wants to achieve enlightenment for himself or herself alone. That person is not regarded as someone worthy of following the Mahayana path.

When we look at it like that, we should realize that “Hinayana” does not necessarily refer to Theravada Buddhism, as some people assume. After Buddha’s demise, Buddhism divided into eighteen sects. One of these was Theravada Buddhism. The sect with which Mahayana was interacting most closely was known as Sarvastivada (“pluralism”), which believed in the ultimate existence of mental

and physical entities. When such masters as Nagarjuna and Chandrakirti came on the scene, the school they criticized the most was the Sarvastivadin school. They did not attack Theravadins.

So when Mahayanists today criticize certain tenets of Hinayana, we should not assume that they are attacking Theravada Buddhism as it is practiced today in such countries as Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. This is a very important point to make, because the Theravadin tradition is the only one to have survived from the eighteen sects that sprang up following the demise of the Buddha.

Sometimes the word Shravakayana is used as a synonym for Hinayana. Shravakayana, or nyenthö kyi thekpa in Tibetan, means the “vehicle of the hearers.” Hinayana, therefore, does not refer to the allegiance of a practitioner to a particular school but is related to hearing

the teachings and assimilating them on an intellectual level, without really practicing them. Nyen in Tibetan means “hear,” and thö means “having assimilated what one has heard on an intellectual level, but not practicing it.” So a Shravaka is a person of limited capacity who has not really assimilated the Buddha’s teachings.

This clarifies why the Mahayanists have said that people should aspire not to the Hinayana perspective but to the Mahayana, which is also equated with the Bodhisattvayana. A Mahayana follower is also known as a Bodhisattva, the term for someone who, unlike the Hinayana follower, wants to expand his or her vision of spiritual growth. Bodhisattvas do not simply limit themselves to wishing to help themselves;

instead, they realize that by helping others, they are in actuality doing something for themselves. That is the ideal, then, of the Bodhisattvayana, or Mahayana.

We see, then, that Hinayana and Mahayana are not determined by doctrines, schools, or belief systems, but by the internal attitude held by practitioners in regard to their spiritual practice. Mahayana practitioners perceive their goal not simply as ridding themselves of suffering, but rather as ridding other beings of suffering. They work for the benefit of others in the understanding that to do something for others is also to do something for oneself.

To give a general outline of the Mahayana teachings, I will talk about the cause of suffering, the path or the method that we must use in order to relieve the cause of suffering, and the fruition that results from practicing the path. The goal of Mahayana Buddhism is no different from that of the early Buddhists. All want to achieve enlightenment. But the quality of the enlightenment, in a sense, is different, because of the

motivation. Hinayanists are not necessarily aiming for full enlightenment, but rather for what is known as Arhathood, a state in which one has rid oneself of the emotional conflicts experienced due to anger, jealousy, dissatisfaction, and so forth. In this approach there is no compassion, sensitivity, or a caring attitude.

If we are to follow the Mahayana path, we need to develop an attitude of caring and compassion, because unless we care for others, our development cannot proceed. With that thought, the Mahayana practitioner tries to understand the cause of suffering, and also tries to understand how to rectify that situation. In terms of attitudes toward the cause of suffering, there is no real difference between the Hinayanist and

the Mahayanist. The causes of suffering are the two veils of conflicting emotions and conceptual confusion. Conflicting emotions include jealousy, anger, pride, ignorance, and excessive desire. Conceptual confusion relates to the mistaken notion that there is a self with an enduring essence. Hinayanists and Mahayanists both understand that suffering results from not having a proper understanding of oneself and one’s emotions.

According to the Mahayana tradition, there is a difference between Hinayana and Mahayana spiritual ideals and the means adopted to realize those ideals. As we said before, Hinayanists are solely concerned with their own well-being and want to achieve enlightenment for their own sake, and thus they do not have the same capacity as Mahayanists. This is not to say that the Hinayana practitioner never thinks of

compassion and love. These attitudes may be there, but not to the same extent as with the Mahayanists. Some Buddhist literature emphasizes the importance of self-realization above the practice of compassion toward others, and speaks of the practice of the four brahmaviharas, or divine abodes: loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity.

Mahayana Buddhism goes further by saying that, if one wants to achieve enlightenment, one needs to do it with a two-pronged approach. The two prongs are compassion and wisdom. One can develop wisdom through the practice of meditation, but one cannot develop compassion by simply meditating on compassion, as is suggested in the four brahmavihara practices. In Mahayana, we have practices such as lojong, literally

mental training” but usually rendered as “giving and taking.” This series of mental exercises is deployed to gradually break down our rigid, entrenched egocentric thoughts, feelings, and perceptions. In lojong we seek to develop compassion by putting ourselves in the place of the deprived or disadvantaged person. But Mahayana says that being compassionate, being helpful, being concerned, and having an

altruistic attitude are not sufficient in themselves. We have to engage ourselves with the world. The practice of meditation and the observance of spiritual practices should be undertaken in everyday life, not just in the monastic environment. We have to actually live in the world. This attitude comes from what the Mahayanists say about samsara being identical with nirvana. What does this mean?

It means that it is not the world that we have to renounce; it is not that we have to shun all social responsibilities in order to develop spiritually. It is our attitude that is the most important thing. That is why they say that samsara is nirvana. Our delusions are the same as enlightenment, and the world we live in is conditioned by our mind.

Practitioners of Mahayana mainly emphasize the mind and the attitude that we have toward the world, toward other people, and toward ourselves. If we can have a proper attitude, then whatever we do will become wholesome. Instead of thinking that our actions are the most important thing and becoming dogmatic about what is right and what is wrong, with the right attitude we are able to interact with the world in a proper manner. This is the compassionate aspect of the path.

Wisdom, the other aspect of the path, comes from understanding that the self and others are not separate, because everything is interdependent: mind, matter, organic, inorganic—everything that exists in the world is interdependent, and therefore nothing has substantiality. This is taking the teachings of early Buddhism a little further. Early Buddhism says that everything is impermanent, but it does not say that nothing has enduring essence and that everything is interdependent.

Mahayana Buddhism elaborates by saying that everything is interdependent, nothing has self-existence or autonomous status; this is what is meant by emptiness (shunyata). Wisdom comes from this realization. If one has a very strong idea of a self-existing (svabhava) notion of a self that is completely enclosed within one’s body and is divorced from the external world, then one can never be at home in the

world. Mahayana Buddhism says that in fact we have already renounced the world as long as we have that belief, because then we are self-enclosed, isolated, and totally divorced from everything else. We perceive the external world as either hostile or something to be exploited and taken advantage of, owing to our desires and our anger.

So if we want to be at home in the world, we need to overcome this way of thinking, and in overcoming it, we attain enlightenment. In order to do that, we need to develop compassion and wisdom. Wisdom is developed through the understanding that the self and others, which we think are totally opposed to each other, are in fact interdependent. The world and the self, the mind and the material world, subject and object, all are interdependent. Once we have that insight, it is easier to develop compassion.

Compassion and wisdom go hand in hand. The Mahayana teachings say that compassion and wisdom should be used like the two wings of a bird. If a bird has only one wing, it cannot fly. In a similar way, if we want to stay aloft, we need wisdom and compassion in the spiritual realm. (We will see later how to develop these two aspects.)

Mahayana Buddhism teaches us how to be in the world without self-deception, without aversion, and without shunning our responsibilities. By facing up to the reality of the situation and realizing that in cultivating wisdom and compassion we are developing ourselves, we see that there is no contradiction. Becoming more compassionate is doing something for ourselves, in actual fact. We do not have to become the doormat for

everybody else, or have a self-effacing attitude, or become a “do-gooder.” If we act genuinely, with the understanding that can be developed through meditation and wisdom, our compassionate activities in relation to others can lead us to the goal.

That goal, from the Mahayana point of view, is to realize the physical aspect of Buddha’s being through the development of compassion, and to realize the mental aspect of Buddha’s being through the practice of wisdom. I mention this because these things are not talked about in the teachings of early Buddhism. In the Mahayana tradition we talk about three aspects of the Buddha’s being, which I will explain later. Here I’m just

linking them together by saying that this is the goal. To gain the physical aspect and the mental aspect of Buddha’s being means that even when one becomes enlightened, one does not enter into some kind of spirit world divorced from the physical nature of things. Rather, one’s own physical body is transformed, in a sense, due to the mental transformation. From the Mahayana perspective, mental

transformation is the important concept, rather than mental purification. We aim not to purify the mind but to transform it, because even the mind is not a self-existing, unchangeable entity.

THE WAY OF THE BODHISATTVA


Meditation and Action Go Together


I HAVE SAID that according to Mahayana Buddhism our delusions lie in two different domains of the mind, one being the emotional aspect and the other being the conceptual aspect. These may also be described as the affective and cognitive aspects of the mind. In

relation to the affective aspect of the mind, emotions such as craving, grasping, clinging, hostility, resentment, and bitterness arise. In relation to the cognitive aspect, all kinds of conceptual confusions arise, particularly in our understanding of ourselves—what we think our self or ego is. So there is an interrelationship between the cognitive and

emotional aspects of the mind. Generally this view contrasts with the Western understanding, in which it is said that to reason, to have rationality, we must control our emotions. Certain romantics have said that we should eschew rationality altogether because emotion is more valuable than reason. Therefore, those who value rationality often do not value emotions, and vice versa.

But from the Buddhist point of view, the problem of delusion does not emerge purely from one source: either our logical or conceptual abilities or our emotions and feelings. The problem emerges from both of these two sources, and we must have a proper understanding of that.

If that is the problem, then we must find the path by which we can reach the solution. That path has many aspects, but fundamentally it consists of wisdom and compassion. Compassion relates to the emotional aspect, and wisdom relates to the cognitive aspect. Through wisdom we are able to clarify our conceptual confusion and our cognitive distortions; and through compassion we are able to transform our negative emotions.

The ultimate aim of Mahayana Buddhism is not to eradicate emotions as such, but to transform our mind, in both its cognitive and its affective aspects. Finally the path leads to the fruition stage, which also has two aspects—surprisingly enough! Buddhism likes numbers, it seems, and everything is categorized; everything comes in either twos or threes or fives, or some other

number. When we simplify the fruition stages of the path, we identify two aspects: the mental aspect of Buddha’s being and the physical aspect of Buddha’s being. Through the practice of compassion on the path, we are led to the realization of the physical aspect of Buddha’s being. Through cultivation of wisdom, we realize the mental or cognitive aspect of Buddha’s being. I have already said that, but I want to recapitulate it here.


WHAT IS A BODHISATTVA?


The person who follows the Mahayana path is called a Bodhisattva. The concept of Bodhisattva is found even in early Buddhist literature. For example, in the Jataka tales about the Buddha’s previous lives before he became awakened, he was referred to in Sanskrit as a Bodhisattva. In Pali literature, the word is bodhisatta, and in Tibetan changchup kyi sempa. The concept of

Bodhisattva is therefore not exclusively a Mahayanist idea or invention. As used in early Buddhism, the word referred to someone who had embarked on the spiritual path and who was progressing toward enlightenment. In Mahayana Buddhism also, the Bodhisattva is not equated with full enlightenment or Buddhahood. The difference is that instead of thinking of Bodhisattvas as being special people with special

attributes and abilities, the Mahayanists said that anyone and everyone can become a Bodhisattva. That is why the notion of Bodhisattva became such an important part of Mahayana Buddhism.

The most important characteristic of the Bodhisattva is the element of compassion. Even though compassion was spoken of in relation to the Bodhisattva in early Buddhism, it was Mahayana Buddhism that emphasized this aspect of the Bodhisattva. According to the Mahayanists, enlightenment is not achieved individually by our own effort in a personal kind of way; rather it is achieved in relation to and in interaction with others. Therefore, the element of compassion is emphasized.

So according to Mahayana understanding, when we are being selfish, when we have an acquisitive mentality of wanting more and more—whether it is material goods, fame, love, or whatever—we lose touch with others, we lose touch with the real world. Instead we are living in a world that has been totally created by our own desires, expectations, and frustrations, which does not correspond with the world that is really there.

That is why Mahayana Buddhism talks about overcoming the duality of subject and object, the duality of the mind and the material world. When we develop wisdom, we realize that both subject and object, the mind and the material world, have the same nature. Then, instead of viewing the world as hostile or alien, we see that the world and ourselves are interdependent. And there lies the possibility of developing compassion.

Formal meditation is a solitary journey in which we grapple with our own inner demons and attempt to come to terms with and develop understanding of our own varied psychic forces and states, and this may then lead to the development of wisdom. In order for a spiritual practice to be complete, it must be complemented by compassionate activities in interpersonal situations. In Mahayana Buddhism

meditation and activity go hand in hand, in that we cannot really have genuine compassion without wisdom. It is only through developing proper wisdom that we will be able to have compassion and do things for others in a way that is not partial. It does not take very much for us to be

compassionate in a partial way. For instance, we can easily feel compassionate toward people whom we like or animals that we cherish. But ideally, from the Mahayana Buddhist point of view, we should aim higher; our compassion should extend even beyond our own dear ones, and that can only be done through wisdom.

If wisdom is not present in compassion, compassion can become degenerated and polluted, owing to our selfishness, sentimentality, or need. I have met people who have a need to be compassionate, instead of just being compassionate. Compassionate activities should be more like a way of being than a way of doing. Sometimes there are set agendas that accompany the whole idea of performing compassionate acts, so that the

most seemingly compassionate people can sometimes also be the most dogmatic. But to be truly compassionate means that we are able to relate with compassion toward a wide variety of people; we don’t separate people into good and bad categories, whereby these people on our side

are good and need our support, while those on the other side are evil people who are upsetting everything, and therefore we should oppose them. Social activists often run the risk of falling into this attitude. Not that everybody is like that, but sometimes people hold peaceful demonstrations that result in violence.

According to Mahayana Buddhism, when a Bodhisattva meets people who do not share his or her ideas, people who think differently or do things differently, he or she would still try to have an open-minded approach and to communicate in the best way possible to help those beings who may even be hostile. It’s important to reiterate that compassion in Buddhism is not something passive. As I pointed out earlier,

Westerners regard emotions as being closely related to feelings that we can’t help having—just as we can’t help it if we have a toothache. Buddhists say that this is not the case with emotions. An emotion like compassion is something active that we can choose to experience and put into action. The fact that we can choose to develop and exercise compassion is significant. As Rollo May states in his book Love and Will, if an individual feels powerless to make such choices, it is very difficult for him or her to love and have compassion. The only way to overcome that sense of powerlessness is to learn how to love and how to generate compassion. Buddhists would agree with that.

Compassion should not have anything to do with suffering with and for another, but should instead arise from the intention to alleviate another’s suffering. Mahayana literature defines love or loving-kindness as the wish that others may have happiness and the causes of happiness; compassion is defined as the wish that others may be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. Those are very general

definitions, but they show that this is an active form of doing something, rather than allowing ourselves to become immersed in other people’s misfortune or despair. If we identify too much with others’ suffering, our own ability to help those others becomes diminished. Psychotherapists have also made this point: therapists who overidentify with the problems of their clients may find that their ability to help the clients is reduced. This is precisely because the therapist is totally absorbed in the whole dynamic of the situation.


TWO KINDS OF BODHISATTVA


There are two different kinds of Bodhisattva: the ideal Bodhisattva and the Bodhisattva who aspires to achieve enlightenment. “Ideal Bodhisattvas” are part of the Buddhist pantheon. In Mahayana, unlike in early Buddhism, we have many different images of realized beings, both mythological and real. The mythological Bodhisattvas in particular are seen as models who embody certain qualities of the

Bodhisattva. So we talk about Bodhisattvas such as Avalokiteshvara (called Chenrezik in Tibetan), Manjushri, and Vajrapani. A Bodhisattva such as Avalokiteshvara embodies compassion and is used as an example of how one can develop compassion. It is not that we must believe in Avalokiteshvara as a real being; rather we use the image of Avalokiteshvara to think about how we might develop this ideal of

compassion in ourselves. Similarly, Manjushri embodies wisdom. Through visualizing Manjushri and doing practices related to Manjushri, we can try to emulate the qualities that Manjushri possesses. Vajrapani embodies the quality of will, so his image can be used as an antidote against apathy, to increase our ability to follow this path. The Bodhisattva of Achala (whose name means

“nonmoving”) is the embodiment of samadhi, or the meditative state. By visualizing all of these Bodhisattvas and by emulating them, we are using them as antidotes to our habitual tendencies. In this way, Manjushri becomes the antidote to ignorance, Avalokiteshvara to selfishness, Vajrapani to apathy, and Achala to the distracted or agitated mind. These are the ideal Bodhisattvas.

The other type of Bodhisattva corresponds to the idea that everyone has the ability to become enlightened, to become a Bodhisattva. These two kinds of Bodhisattva should be distinguished, because it can be especially confusing for newcomers who are told that there are these Bodhisattvas who are supposed to be realized, and then one is also told to emulate the Bodhisattva behavior and become a Bodhisattva

oneself. The Bodhisattvas who are ideal images already embody all the qualities of the Bodhisattva, or at least some of them. But those who belong to the second type of Bodhisattva need to cultivate the qualities they do not have. Within this second group there are two kinds: those who have already embarked upon the Bodhisattva path, and others who are potential Bodhisattvas, so that if the right circumstances arise they may actually become Bodhisattvas.


BECOMING A BODHISATTVA


So how does one become a Bodhisattva? There is just one necessary and sufficient condition, which is to generate bodhichitta, or the “heart of enlightenment.” Bodhi means “enlightenment,” and chitta means “heart.”

Bodhichitta also has two aspects, one being the relative aspect and the other being the ultimate aspect. Ultimate bodhichitta refers to the nature of the mind itself, or what we call Buddha-nature. (We’ll come to a discussion of that later.) Relative bodhichitta is the cultivation and generation of compassion. In order to develop this, it is not sufficient to just think, “From

now on, I will try to do my best to generate compassion and overcome my egocentricity, because it is not only beneficial for others but is also beneficial for myself.” We have to make a formal commitment, which is called the taking of the Bodhisattva vow. As we know, living with somebody for many years in a

de facto relationship is different from signing on the dotted line. Somehow that makes a difference; I suppose it is because when we make a formal commitment in public rather than simply saying something to ourselves mentally, there is an aspect of promise about it. And when we promise something, there may be more of a chance that we will follow through. So bodhichitta is aroused by making a formal commitment.

After making such a commitment, the Mahayana teachings say, the Bodhisattva should not be in a hurry to attain enlightenment. We have the ability to actually postpone our own enlightenment as long as necessary, because as Bodhisattvas we feel that it is better for others to achieve enlightenment before we do ourselves. We have no sense of urgency and can say, “I will work for the benefit of others; I want others to attain enlightenment before I do.”

In some of the books on Buddhism written by Western scholars and practitioners, there is a problem with this idea. For example, Peter Harvey, the author of An Introduction to Buddhism, questions: if a Bodhisattva is not the same as a Buddha, how is it possible for such a person to lead others to a state of enlightenment, even if he or she has the desire to do so? The Bodhisattva may be deluded in thinking

that he or she has the ability to do so, but to be able to lead others to enlightenment entails the possession of certain abilities. Paul Williams’s book Mahayana Buddhism poses a different question: is it not problematic to talk about the postponement of enlightenment? For then it raises the possibility that it might be better not to embark upon the Bodhisattva path, if by embarking upon it others will attain enlightenment while you, as the Bodhisattva, still remain in the samsaric condition.

The point is not to take all these statements so literally but to understand them in relation to attitude. By developing the infinite compassion that a Bodhisattva is able to develop, one brings enlightenment closer, whereas without that kind of compassion, enlightenment is far off. Even if one desperately wants to become enlightened, one is unable to do so.

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche gave a very graphic image of this. He said that embarking on the Bodhisattva path in a proper way is like being in a vehicle that is preprogrammed to take you to your destination even if you don’t want to go there. I think it is like that. If you have the right attitude, then you attain enlightenment in spite of yourself. That really is the Mahayana attitude as it is transmitted orally. But if you become fixated on the texts in which it is not explic-itly stated that this is how one approaches the Bodhisattva path, you may take the whole thing too literally.

Shantideva says in the first chapter of the Bodhisattvacharyavatara: “May I become a shelter for the homeless; may I become food for the hungry; may I become a bridge for those who want to cross the turbulent waters.” Obviously Shantideva is not wishing to be a magician so that he can literally become these things.

Having said that, I should add that what this really means is that doing compassionate activities for others should go beyond physical activities, such as feeding the hungry. Of course, wherever possible, we should try to do those things. But wherever it is impossible to actually do this, we should not think, “A mere mental attitude will not alleviate others’ suffering if I haven’t got the physical means to do so. My effort

will have no effect, so it’s a waste of time.” We should not give up the practice. Wishing that the Ethiopians, for example, were relieved of their suffering could have an enormously beneficial effect, even though physically nothing has changed for the Ethiopians. It is the attitude that

really is the most important thing. If we have the right attitude, arising from wisdom, whatever action we initiate out of compassion will be effective and will be in keeping with the situation. But if we lack such an open and wide vision, even if we are very concerned with social welfare and justice, our attitude may still be tinged or polluted with our own delusions or obscurations of mind.


REALIZING WISDOM AND COMPASSION


Bodhichitta and the Paramitas


WE HAVE SEEN that the concept of the Bodhisattva in Mahayana Buddhism is of the ideal image of a spiritual practitioner, which all followers should try to emulate. Now let us look in more detail at how the Bodhisattva way of life is accomplished.

In chapter 6, I briefly mentioned generating bodhichitta, or enlightened heart. Bodhichitta has two aspects: the absolute aspect refers to the nature of the mind already inherent in all living beings, and the relative aspect refers to compassion. The first of these, the absolute aspect, is related more to wisdom, while the relative aspect is related more to compassion. If we want to obtain enlightenment by becoming a Bodhisattva, it is necessary to actualize wisdom and compassion. This is done by the practice of what are called the six paramitas, or “transcendental actions.”

Para in Sanskrit literally means the “other shore.” Here it means going beyond our own notion of the self. From the Buddhist point of view in general, and from the Mahayana point of view in particular, if we want to progress properly on the path, we need to go beyond our conventional understanding of the self. So when we say that paramita means “transcendental action,” we mean

it in the sense that actions or attitudes are performed in a non-egocentric manner. “Transcendental” does not refer to some external reality, but rather to the way in which we conduct our lives and perceive the world—either in an egocentric or a non-egocentric way. The six paramitas are concerned with the effort to step out of the egocentric mentality. In this chapter I shall discuss the first four

paramitas (generosity, moral precepts, patience, and vigor), which are all concerned with our physical actions and are related to the moral domain. The practice of the last two paramitas (meditation and wisdom) is concerned with the mind, and these paramitas are the subject of chapter 8.


GENEROSITY (Dana)


The first paramita is dana in Sanskrit, which means “generosity.” The Bodhisattva-bhumi, a very important Mahayana text, defines it as “an unattached and spontaneous mind, and the dispensing of gifts and requisites in that state of mind.” The essence of generosity is giving without any attachment or expectations, without thought of receiving something in return. It is doing something purely for its own sake, with no strings attached.

In the Mahayana tradition, generosity has three aspects. The first is practicing generosity on the material level. This means that we are able to extend ourselves and not hesitate to help people in need, and that we don’t become so attached to our possessions that we cannot share them. This type of generosity works on the physical level by relieving people’s physical pain and deprivation.

The second aspect is practicing generosity by giving protection, by protecting people’s lives. This means that if others are in danger, we do not hesitate to help them; we do not hold back. If a person is caught in a burning house, we must act to save that person. If we suspect that the child next door is being abused, we don’t think that the child isn’t ours and therefore we have no responsibility; we act to protect the child.

The point, at least for Bodhisattvas, is that we should do whatever it takes in any given moment to save a life. This extends even further, because it is not only human life that needs to be saved but the lives of all sentient beings. So if a modern Bodhisattva here in Australia, where I live, is driving along the road and accidentally hits a kangaroo, he or she doesn’t just “shoot through,” as they say, but stops to do something to save that animal’s life. Giving protection is called the generosity of fearlessness.

The third type of generosity is that of giving spiritual teachings and advice. In the Mahayana literature it is clearly stated that there are three aspects to this: the first is the object of generosity, the person to whom we might direct such teachings. This person needs to be interested in receiving teachings or advice. If someone is not interested, then no matter how much we talk, no matter how much we

want to give advice, nothing will be achieved. So we don’t go around saying, “Avon calling!” People may say, “Go away, I don’t want to listen to you!” Why then should we persist? But if a person is open-minded, then the situation is workable. So the object or person to whom the teachings are directed should be kept in mind.

The second aspect is the intention. When we want to impart teachings or give advice, we must do it with a pure intention, not sullied by thinking that we are better or know more than the person we are trying to help. The teacher’s motivation should be pure and free from delusions.

The third aspect is the way of imparting the Dharma. In the Bodhisattva-bhumi, Asanga says: “To make a gift of the Dharma means to explain it logically and not in a perverted way, and to make the disciple hold firmly to the principle of training therein.” We should give spiritual advice to others in a coherent manner, logically and eloquently, and in a way that does not give rise to strong emotional reactions, as these would only increase the delusions already present in the people receiving teachings.


MORAL PRECEPTS (Shila)


The second paramita is called shila (Tibetan, tsültrim), or ethics. A better translation would be “moral precepts,” because all the paramitas are involved with ethics or morality, not just shila. The distinctive feature of shila paramita is that it is involved with the taking of certain precepts. In the Mahayana tradition, it is said that without precepts we are like a person without feet—we cannot

get a foothold, we cannot stand upon the ground. As a Mahayana sutra says: “Just as you cannot walk without feet, so also can you not become liberated if you lack ethics or moral precepts.” In Tibetan, tsültrim is always referred to as tsültrim che kangpa, which means “foot of moral precepts.” So shila is seen as the foundation, that which grounds us in spiritual practice or connects us to the earth.

The paramita of moral precepts has three aspects. The first is related to restraint, as in the precepts against killing and lying. It is important not to yield to such impulses and act on them; we must exercise some form of restraint.

The second aspect of the precepts is “gathering of wholesomeness,” which means that it’s not sufficient simply to restrain oneself from negative forms of actions; having exercised restraint, one must then engage in positive deeds. For this reason one is counseled to engage in

wholesome mental attitudes such as contemplation on love, compassion, and affection, and try not to get engrossed in negative emotions such as bitterness, resentment, hostility, and hatred. The term in Tibetan is gewa chödü; gewa means “wholesome” and chödü means “gathering.” So we gather all that is wholesome and positive within ourselves.

The third aspect of the precepts is acting to benefit others, not just ourselves. What distinguishes the Mahayana idea of precepts is this emphasis on benefiting others. In the Mahayana tradition, however, the precepts are not to be followed blindly; they have nothing to do with rules and regulations. It is a Mahayana idea that there is no such thing as absolute moral principles. Precepts should be followed skillfully rather than blindly, which is connected with the Mahayana idea of upaya, “skillful means.”

Moral precepts should also not be followed out of fear of punishment or hope of reward. This is made very clear in another sutra: “Moral precepts are not to be observed for the sake of kingship, the bliss of heaven, or the position of Indra, Brahma, or Ishvara [that is, to attain the powers of gods]; nor for the enjoyment of wealth, nor the world of forms and other

experiences. They are not to be observed out of the fear of hell, of rebirth among animals or the world of Yama. On the contrary, ethics or moral precepts are to be observed in order to become like Buddhas and to bring happiness or profit to all beings.” Mahayana Buddhists would say that following moral precepts for reward or out of fear may, in fact, turn out to be an immoral act.

PATIENCE (Kshanti)


The next paramita is patience (kshanti), which is seen as the antidote to anger, frustration, resentment, hostility, and the like. An impatient mind becomes a victim of these emotions. As Shantideva says in the Boddhisattvacharyavatara: “When one adopts an attitude tinged with the sting of malevolence, the mind does not experience peace. Since one does not find joy and happiness, one becomes

sleepless and restless.” If there is hatred in the mind so that it is dominated by feelings of resentment and anger, then it becomes restless and, as Shantideva says, we cannot even sleep properly. Shantideva goes on to say: “In brief, there is no such thing as anger in happiness; so when we feel happy, there is no anger. Anger and happiness cannot coexist.”

If we are to overcome suffering—which is the ultimate aim of Buddhism—we must overcome negative tendencies in the mind, because positive states of mind such as peace and happiness cannot coexist with negative tendencies. Therefore, it is important to develop patience. It is not enough just to recognize the harmful effects these negative tendencies have on our lives. We need to actively practice patience to overcome them.

Shantideva also says: “There is no such thing as anger in happiness; a person’s friends tire of him, and even though he entices them by generosity, they do not stay.” For as long as we do not change our ways, we may try to bribe people with gifts to show our affection, but they won’t be duped and will cease to be our friends. So anger has all kinds of negative consequences, not only in relation to our spiritual practice but also in our life generally.

The practice of patience has three aspects. The first concerns coping with harmful people; the second, working with difficult situations; the third, investigating the whole of reality. First, the Bodhisattva has to learn how to cope with people who have very difficult personalities, who are aggressive, annoying, and upsetting. According to many Mahayana teachings, the best way to do this is to realize that, if someone is completely overpowered

by anger, we should think of that person as being like someone who is mentally unstable or under the influence of alcohol and therefore not fully in control. If we act in the same way this other person does, we cannot solve anything. So we need to review the situation properly and act sensibly.

The second aspect relates to working with difficult situations. Even when we are confronted with these, we should not yield to despair or frustration. We need to realize that life is not easy, that difficulty is part of life; we should not think that everything will go smoothly or fall into our laps just like that, without our making any effort. When difficulties arise, we should try to exercise patience and tolerance, keep our mind lucid, and not be influenced by despair and hopelessness.

The third aspect is called “investigating the whole of reality,” which will be discussed later as part of the paramita of wisdom. What this means, in brief, is that the Bodhisattva should have the understanding that everything takes place because of causes and conditions. Difficulties that we experience are not permanent, because everything depends upon causes and conditions and is transient. Therefore, we need not become so fixated on or obsessed by the problems we experience at any given moment.


VIGOR (Virya)


The next paramita is called virya, often translated as “effort”; but I think “vigor” is better, because “effort” makes it sound like plain hard work! But if we have vigor, we do not need to make any effort. For example, we may have to make an effort to put the garbage out, whereas a person with vigor would do this effortlessly. With vigor we do not flinch or get bogged down or dragged down; we don’t run out of energy.

One Mahayana sutra says: “Unsurpassable perfect enlightenment is not difficult for those who make the effort, because where there is effort, there is enlightenment.” Even to gain enlightenment, if there is vigor, it is not so difficult. If there a sense of vigor, enthusiasm,

and energy, things are not that difficult. Another sutra says: “Enlightenment is easy for the hard-working.” What these quotations make clear is that, if we put our mind to it, we will achieve results. If Bodhisattvas put their mind to achieving enlightenment, that goal is not so far away, and this is true for all of us.

The paramita of vigor acts as an antidote to laziness. In the teachings there are three types of laziness: the first is laziness resulting from inactivity or lack of interest, thinking that you can’t be bothered. You may ask, “What’s the point? Why do anything?” So you remain in bed for three days in a row, dirty dishes pile up, and so on. The second kind of laziness comes from lack of confidence, from thinking, “How could a

person like me achieve anything? Even if I tried, it wouldn’t work.” Failure is anticipated even before it has happened. With this attitude we preempt any kind of success we might have. The last kind of laziness has to do with overactivity, always being busy, doing this and that, working at three different jobs. When you have nothing to do, you make a telephone call or you visit somebody, out of a constant restlessness that prevents anything from being accomplished. We need to practice the paramita of vigor in order to overcome our tendency toward these kinds of laziness.

There are three different types of vigor as well. The first is called “armorlike vigor.” This means that we consciously make the decision that, until we attain our goal, we will not allow ourselves to be sidetracked. This decision is made with fortitude, so there is no distraction.

The second is the “vigor of applied work,” and this relates to our physical aspect. Having made such a commitment, we need to engage in upaya, or skillful means. When interacting with others, a Bodhisattva has to be very skillful; certain negative tendencies can have a narrowing

effect, while positive tendencies have an opening-up effect. Some behavioral attributes may appear to be so similar that initially we cannot differentiate them clearly. But with practice a Bodhisattva is able to discern the differences. For example, arrogance and self-confidence may appear similar, but they are actually quite different. Arrogance narrows one’s vision, whereas self-confidence can be uplifting and expansive.

Aggression may be seen as self-assertiveness and attachment as affection; indifference may be confused with being dispassionate and self-indulgence mistaken for self-reflection. Gradually, through interaction with others and the practice of the paramitas, Bodhisattvas come to understand what is skillful and beneficial in dealing with others.

The last aspect of vigor or effort is “discontentedness.” Buddhism frequently speaks of overcoming dissatisfaction and discontentment, as if these experiences are always undesirable. In certain respects, however, discontentment is necessary. No matter what we have achieved in the past about which we may justifiably feel proud, we should not be satisfied with that but should look to develop and improve ourselves further.

This is an ongoing process. We should have the enthusiasm to want to go further and further in relating to others and developing ourselves on a spiritual and psychological level. Our normal experiences of dissatisfaction, incompleteness, deprivation, privation, or sense of lack can and must be sublimated into spiritual ones. We should never be satisfied with our spiritual progress, thinking, “This will do,” or “That is enough.” We should always have hunger for deeper, higher, richer experiences on the path.

THE LINK BETWEEN WISDOM AND COMPASSION


The Paramita of Meditation and the Nine Stages of Shamatha


THE MAHAYANA IDEA of the six paramitas is not so different from the Eightfold Noble Path of early Buddhism. Both practices emphasize cultivating compassion and wisdom, achieved through the three trainings of shila, samadhi, and prajna—morality, meditation, and wisdom. Through developing our morality we can arouse compassion, and through meditation we are able to cultivate insight or wisdom.

If a practitioner engages in meditation and develops wisdom but is unable to develop compassion, a problem arises. Through wisdom we may be able to understand the nature of the self and to have a certain understanding of reality, but without compassion we are unable to be in the world and interact with other living beings. Similarly, compassion without wisdom may enable us to interact with other living beings, but our lack of wisdom causes that interaction to become polluted with defilements, delusions, and illusions.

The paramita of meditation is the link between wisdom and compassion. To practice the first four paramitas in a non-egocentric manner is very difficult without the practice of meditation. It is also true that, without the practice of meditation, it is nearly impossible to develop wisdom. So meditation is the key to self-development and making advancement on the spiritual path.

In the West, what meditation means and the reasons for practicing it are understood in many different ways. Meditation has become quite popular. Many people, particularly in the health professions, now recognize its benefits. Some people think that meditation will help them live longer, prolong their youth, lose weight, stop smoking, and so on. Meditation may do all those things, but in the Eastern traditions,

such as Buddhism and Hinduism, it has a more profound meaning. Meditation is not practiced for a specific reason such as reducing stress, increasing concentration while playing sports, or dealing with anxiety. It has to be put in the overall context of how we view our lives and how we perceive the world; this can only be provided by a certain kind of philosophical or religious perspective.

Many people are frightened by the notion of religion and say, “I want to learn how to practice meditation, but please spare me the Eastern mumbo-jumbo. I am quite willing to do the breathing exercises or whatever else you tell me to do.” In the Eastern tradition, the practice of meditation relates to transforming ourselves in a fundamental way, not simply changing one aspect of our self. By transforming ourselves we are able to deal with whatever happens in our lives in an appropriate and a meaningful way.

Meditation is samadhi or dhyana in Sanskrit, and samten in Tibetan. In Chinese it has been translated as ch’an, and in Japan it is more commonly known as zen, which is a corruption of the Chinese term. Samten in Tibetan basically means “stable

mind.” Sam can mean either “mind” or “thinking,” and ten means “stable.” The mind that does not easily become distracted, that can remain focused and concentrated, is in meditation. In the West meditation can refer to thinking or pondering on a problem, but in Eastern traditions it refers to the undistracted mind, which is able to focus on the object of meditation.

We saw in chapter 3 that there are two different types of meditation in Buddhism. The meditation of tranquillity, or shamatha in Sanskrit, is called shi-ne in Tibetan, which means “dwelling in peace.” Insight meditation, or vipashyana in Sanskrit, is lhakthong in Tibetan, meaning “superior seeing.”

We start with the shamatha aspect, or meditation of tranquillity, because without tranquillity, insight cannot be developed. Sometimes insight meditation is also translated as “analytical meditation,” which may suggest it has something in common with what we normally mean by meditating on a particular problem. But although it does involve the use of thoughts and concepts, these are considered in the light of how such thoughts and concepts arise in the mind.

In tranquillity meditation we do not concern ourselves with thought and concepts. This is not to say that we should reject or suppress them. We should take note of them as they arise, realizing that they are present, and then try to let go of them. We do not use thought in tranquillity meditation as we do in insight meditation. We need to understand from the beginning which attitudes hinder or help our progress in tranquillity meditation.


PRINCIPLES OF PRACTICE


Shamatha meditation itself has no single practice; instead there is quite a diversity of approaches. According to the Buddhist traditions generally, as part of creating the proper condition for tranquillity to arise, it is important for the meditator to restrain the senses, fondness for food, and anything else that has the potential to disturb or befuddle the mind. While maintaining this kind of composure, the

meditator should settle himself or herself comfortably by adopting what is called “Vairochana nine-point posture.” This is recommended as the most beneficial meditation posture. It is a cross-legged position, with hands resting one on the other in the lap or resting on the knees, shoulders slightly stretched, head slightly inclined forward, spine absolutely straight like an arrow, gaze directed downward and concentrating on the tip of the

nose, mouth slightly open, the tip of the tongue touching the roof of the mouth, and the breathing even and relaxed. The implication is that one should resist and desist from introducing modifications to the posture. This may be an important point, in view of the fact that so many Westerners have started to adapt meditation postures to suit their own preferences. Perhaps in this case an individual’s own preferences should not be given consideration (unless, of course, there is a debilitating physical constraint of some kind).

Having adopted the posture of Vairochana, the meditator then should focus his or her mind on the breath. It does not have to be the breath; we could use other objects of concentration, such as an image of the Buddha. However, the use of the breath for this purpose is seen by all Buddhists, regardless of tradition, as the most practical and most effective option. One should breathe naturally, without

effort, and avoid breathing either loudly, with undue stress and strain, or in a very shallow manner. If the meditator persists with shamatha by learning to coordinate the breath, his or her mind will gradually become more tranquil and settled.

In the course of shamatha meditation, the meditator needs to become familiar with the use of what are known as the antidotes. These antidotes are used to counteract certain known obstacles to meditation. So at this point the meditator has to know what these obstacles are, and what the anitidotes to them are as well. When should we resort to the antidotes, and when should we desist from using them? Knowing when to use the antidotes is as important as knowing when not to use them.


OBSTACLES TO MEDITATION


There are five obstacles or faults, eight antidotes, and nine stages that apply to tranquillity meditation. (The five obstacles of Mahayana are different from the five hindrances that we discussed in chapter 3 in relation to early Buddhism.) The first fault is laziness; the second, forgetfulness; the third, drowsiness and mental agitation; the fourth, nonapplication; and the fifth,

overapplication. Of the eight antidotes, four of them are for the obstacle of laziness: conviction, inclination, exertion or vigor, and pliancy of body and mind. To deal with the second obstacle, forgetfulness, we use the antidote of mindfulness. The third

obstacle, drowsiness and agitation (these are counted as one), has the antidote of awareness. The fourth obstacle is nonapplication, for which the antidote is obviously application. The fifth obstacle is overapplication; in order to counteract that, we resort to the antidote of equanimity.

The Madhyanta-vibhanga says: “All aims may be realized by settling in tranquillity and making the mind pliant through abandoning the five faults by employing the eight antidotes. Settling the mind in tranquillity is the cause, tranquillity is the effect. Remembering the benefit of tranquillity, detecting laziness and agitation, abandoning faults or obstacles, applying antidotes, reaching intrinsic

tranquillity—these are the eight antidotes.” This text uses slightly different terms to express the importance of being able to deal with these five obstacles by the application of the eight antidotes. Meditators who have not developed the ability to detect the obstacles, or who have detected the obstacles but have not been able to use the antidotes, are robbed of the experience of tranquillity.


Laziness


There are three types of laziness, the first obstacle. The first gives rise to self-defeating attitudes, such as thinking that we do not have the ability to improve ourselves through our own effort. We think the obstacles are so overwhelming that it is impossible to make any progress on our own. The second type of laziness is that which arises from habitual patterns. Even if we have the desire to meditate and realize that it is

very useful, because we are used to a certain way of life, or because of the company that we keep or the kinds of internal propensities that may be present, we may not be able to overcome these obstacles. The third obstacle is the lack of interest. We think, “What is the point of

meditating? It is not really going to change things very much, and afterwards I will still be the same.” In this way of thinking, meditation may be perceived as a waste of time.

In order to overcome these three types of laziness, we apply four different antidotes. The first is conviction, which means we reflect on our situation and think about the benefits of meditation. We look at the continuing harm we could create by not meditating and realize how much suffering is generated through lack of mindfulness and awareness. For example, we could look at how, in a moment of anger, we reacted to people or situations in a way that we later regretted, wishing that we could have stopped ourselves.

In Buddhism we talk about three gates through which we create karmic effects: body, speech, and mind. We can realize how much harm has been created due to lack of mindfulness, whether physical, verbal, or mental. If mindfulness and awareness had been present, we might not have had to regret the destructive things we have done, said, and thought. Many psychologists now call extreme anger, hostility, and jealousy “toxic emotions.” In Tibetan Buddhism such emotions are called poisons, so the meaning is similar.

People today can get very confused about emotions, because we are sometimes told that it is good to assert ourselves and “be somebody.” On the other hand, when we act in an aggressive manner, we may be chastised and put down for it. The same can be said of jealousy. In some situations, if we do not show jealousy, our partners may accuse us of not loving them enough. But in another situation, a display of jealousy may elicit accusations of

possessiveness. All of these emotions can have a toxic effect, and it is important to realize how we can control them through the practice of meditation, by becoming focused and attentive. So we need to develop conviction, the first antidote. Conviction can arise only if we are convinced of the benefits of meditation and of the harm that conflicting emotions cause in a distracted, confused mind.

Once conviction has been developed, we must follow that up with the cultivation of what is called inclination. If we have real conviction that meditation works and that we must maintain it as part of our practice, then the inclination to want to practice arises more naturally than if we lacked conviction and approached meditation in a half-hearted manner. When inclination is present, the third antidote for laziness—vigor—can be applied.

When there is conviction and inclination, it is not difficult for us to be enthusiastic about the practice of meditation, and a sense of vigor easily arises as a result of developing inclination.

This whole process leads to the final antidote, which is pliancy of body and mind. When we do not meditate, the mind and body can become rigid. The posture and facial expression are rigid, the muscles are taut and tense, and the mind is consequently also very rigid and inflexible. Through the practice of meditation and applying the antidotes, the body and mind will become flexible. This is conducive to developing a tranquil state of mind.


Forgetfulness


The second obstacle or fault is forgetfulness, the antidote for which is mindfulness. This is first developed through focusing the mind on an external object. Meditators are commonly advised to use a small object, such as a pebble or a piece of wood, and attention is anchored to that object. After a period of time, the focus of attention can be switched to the breath. At the beginning this can be done by counting the breath

—counting up to five, fifty, or whatever—then going back and starting all over again, repeating that again and again. Eventually the mental processes of thoughts and emotions that arise in the mind can be used as objects of meditation. In all these cases, the most important thing is not to forget to return to the object of meditation when we realize that we have become distracted or have lost attention. As soon as we have that

realization, we should try to make an effort to return to the object of meditation. Of course, we can practice mindfulness in everyday life as well—while driving, washing the dishes, taking the dog for a walk. If we are able to focus our minds on whatever we are doing, that is seen as part of the practice of meditation.


Drowsiness and Agitation


The third obstacle or fault is drowsiness or dullness and agitation, and these two are counted as one. To counteract these two tendencies, we apply awareness. As we begin to develop and cultivate mindfulness regarding external objects, by focusing our minds on the breath, on our mental processes, and so on, it becomes possible to practice awareness. Without mindfulness it is almost impossible to be

aware of these two fundamental obstacles to meditation, dullness or drowsiness and mental agitation. Even if no particularly disturbing thoughts are arising in the mind, or no strong, violent emotions are present, and there is a semblance of

calmness, nevertheless there is no real sense of clarity. The mind is dull, which can lead to a feeling of drowsiness or stupor. This is harder to detect than mental agitation, the incessant inner chatter and dialogue and the upsurge of emotions that can disrupt our meditative state. Awareness should be applied to detect whether dullness or mental agitation is present.


Nonapplication and Overapplication


The fourth obstacle is nonapplication, which means being unable to apply the antidotes: four in relation to laziness, one in relation to forgetfulness, and one in relation to dullness and agitation. We need to exert ourselves in making use of these antidotes wherever they are appropriate.

The fifth obstacle is overapplication. After having practiced for a certain period of time, we may find that, even when it is unnecessary, out of habit we still use the antidotes rather than letting the mind be in a natural state of tranquillity. Therefore, the antidote of equanimity should be used here.

This is how the eight antidotes relate to the five faults or obstacles. Obviously the practice of meditation is a very long, arduous process; it may not always be very pleasant and does not necessarily lead to an enduring experience of bliss. As Saraha, the famous Indian mahasiddha (tantric yogin), has said: “When I apply great effort and hold on tight to the object, I become agitated; when I use less effort, I am overcome by dullness. It is very difficult to balance these two tendencies. When I engage in meditation, my mind becomes

disturbed.” So it is always a question of trying to strike a balance when applying the antidotes. Meditation is about learning how to apply the antidotes when necessary and not applying them too much or when they are not really necessary. This is something we have to find out on our own.


THE NINE STAGES OF SHAMATHA


The five obstacles and eight antidotes are related to the nine stages of shamatha. The first stage is called “resting the mind.” In the beginning, we are constantly grappling with obstacles on the one hand and the use of antidotes on the other. Gradually we may be able to rest the mind for a short period of time, before obstacles arise and disrupt that meditative state. Owing to lack of experience, we may not be able to

use the antidotes effectively and may therefore find it very difficult to actually return to the object of meditation. Fantasies, emotions, and thoughts may overwhelm us, making it very difficult. But through consistent effort, we will arrive at the next stage, which is called “continuous resting.”

At this stage we develop a greater ability to apply mindfulness and awareness, so that when the obstacles arise, we can return to the object of meditation rather than becoming overwhelmed by them. In both the first and second stages, laziness is the predominant obstacle, characterized by a lack of interest, a lack of inclination toward meditation, or a lack of conviction about the benefits of meditation. Meditators should

constantly contemplate these things. We should reflect on our lives and our life experiences, on how we suffer because of our erroneous, distorted thoughts and negative, conflicting emotions.

The third stage of the meditation of tranquillity is called “repeated resting” of the mind (sometimes translated as “patch-like resting”). On this level, not only do we have a greater ability to use mindfulness, but we also have developed skills in dealing with the major obstacles of dullness and agitation. Being able to stay with the object of meditation is only the first step; being aware of the fundamental obstacles of dullness and agitation is the skill developed here.

The fourth stage is called “immediate resting.” As soon as a certain obstacle arises, we can either return to the object of meditation through the use of mindfulness or detect the obstacles of dullness and mental agitation whenever they occur. The level of distraction has decreased enormously. At this stage we no longer suffer from the second obstacle of forgetfulness—being unable to return to the object of meditation—and

therefore the practice of mindfulness has more or less been mastered. Laziness is still present, however, as are the other obstacles, but gross forms of mental agitation do not arise.

The obstacles of dullness and mental agitation can manifest in both gross and subtle forms. Meditators who have reached the fourth stage have been able to overcome not only the obstacle of forgetfulness, but also a portion of the third obstacle, dullness and mental agitation. The dullness has not yet been handled, but a certain part of the agitation has been overcome, particularly in its more

manifest aspects. There is an increasing necessity of relying on awareness to a greater degree, rather than mindfulness; we need to be more alert to detect the obstacle of dullness and mental agitation, since mindfulness has been mastered and forgetfulness does not cause a problem at this stage. Meditators must apply the antidote of awareness rigorously and need not be concerned about overapplication.

The fifth stage is known as “vigorous discipline.” Since mindfulness has been achieved, there is a greater sense of ease, and the mind is not agitated or perturbed in an uncomfortable manner. Yet the literature on meditation says that this stage is very dangerous. Having been able to

overcome a certain gross level of mental agitation, meditators may become complacent or suffer from plain boredom, with no emotions or thoughts to occupy the mind. Because there is no real agitation taking place, the meditators may be particularly vulnerable to

the obstacle of dullness. Instead of being able to rest in a state of tranquillity with clarity, the mind may be robbed of clarity altogether. A sense of boredom and lack of interest may set in, while the obstacle of laziness has still not been overcome. At this stage one must pay particular attention to the obstacle of dullness, drowsiness, or stupor.

The sixth stage of tranquillity meditation is called “pacifying.” Here meditators are able to deal not only with the gross level of mental agitation but also with the obstacles that originate from dullness, particularly in its gross form. Subtle forms of dullness have not yet been overcome, because this obstacle is generally harder to detect than that of mental agitation.

The seventh stage of shamatha is known as “thoroughly pacifying.” At this level laziness may still arise from time to time, but it does not present major problems because conviction is so entrenched that we are not seduced by the different tendencies of laziness. Subtle forms of dullness and agitation may also still continue to occur at this stage. We must continue to be vigilant, lest we practice

overapplication. Long-time meditators may continue to use antidotes out of habit, when in fact what they should be using is subtle forms of awareness to overcome certain obstacles. Instead of applying awareness deliberately, for example, they should exercise awareness in a gentle and more detached way. Meditators should practice equanimity and gradually try to break down the attitude of

seeing the obstacles as being bad and the antidotes as being good. They should realize that, through the practice of subtle forms of awareness, it is possible to attain the state of tranquillity without exertion and without having to consciously apply the relevant

antidotes. For this reason the past masters have suggested that here one should ease off and try to dwell naturally in a state of tranquillity, rather than vigorously apply antidotes.

The eighth stage is “one-pointedness.” Now we have overcome all the obstacles, even the fundamental one of mental dullness and agitation, in both gross and subtle (or manifest and concealed) forms. They do not need to apply awareness to remain in a state of tranquillity, because the obstacles no longer present any problems. This is where a state of one-pointedness is achieved. Meditation has become something natural, a way of being rather than something that has to be created by warding off obstacles through the application of antidotes.

The ninth and last stage is called “resting in equipoise,” which is more or less the culmination of shamatha practice and leads to the complete mastery of pliancy of body and mind.

This lucid overview—which has come to be regarded by many as the best introductory book on Tibetan Buddhism—looks at its subject from the perspective of the three traditional “vehicles”: the Hinayana, the Mahayana, and the Vajrayana. These divisions are often presented as a historical development, but here Traleg Kyabgon equates them with the attitudes that we bring to our Buddhist practice. Basic to them all is the need to understand our own immediate condition. The primary tool for achieving this is meditation, and The Essence of Buddhism serves as a handbook for the various meditative approaches of Buddhist practice.

Beginning with the most basic teaching of the Four Noble Truths, Traleg Rinpoche goes on to incorporate the expansive vision of the bodhisattva path and the transformative vision of Tantra. The final chapters present the transcendent view of Mahamudra. Along the way, the author provides vivid definitions of fundamental concepts such as compassion, emptiness, and Buddha-nature.


Includes a foreword from Sogyal Rinpoche.


TRALEG KYABGON (1955–2012) was born in Eastern Tibet and educated by many great masters of all four major lineages of Tibetan Buddhism. He is the founder of the Kagyu E-Vam Buddhist Institute, which is headquartered in Melbourne, Australia, with a major practice center in upstate New York and a practice community in New York City. He taught extensively at universities and Buddhist centers in the U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Southeast Asia beginning in 1980, and is the author of numerous books that present Buddhist teachings to Western readers, including Mind at Ease.


THE ESSENCE of BUDDHISM


An Introduction to Its Philosophy and Practice


TRALEG KYABGON


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SHAMBHALA

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2013

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© 2001 by Traleg Kyabgon Rinpoche


Cover art: Buddha Shakyamuni; eighteenth century, eastern Tibet. © Shelley and Donald Rubin


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.


IT MIGHT SEEM that there is no need for another introductory book on Buddhism, since today there is a plethora of quality books available on the market, which was not the case a decade ago. However, after some thought, I was persuaded that there may be room for another book, one that introduces the general public to the Tibetan form of Buddhism approached from the perspective of the Kagyü school, which is the second oldest lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. It seems to me that some introductory books are either too elementary or too scholarly to be immediately

accessible to newcomers to Buddhism. Moreover, I have not yet seen an accessible introductory book that makes the teachings on the three yanas of Tibetan Buddhism easily understandable to a student who is totally new to Buddhism or even to more experienced students. As a writer, one has a dilemma over how much detail to present. I have tried to maintain this difficult balance so that the text will be neither too shallow nor too dense and inaccessible.

The text—based upon teachings I have given in Australia, Europe, and the United States—is divided into three parts, each devoted to one of the three yanas. Chapters 1 through 4 introduce the student to the basic principles of early Buddhist teachings. Here the teachings on the Four Noble Truths and Buddhist training on moral precepts, concentration, and wisdom are discussed in some detail. The fourth chapter is devoted to karma and rebirth, which is a central feature in traditional Tibetan Buddhist teachings.

The second part is devoted to sutric Mahayana teachings and tantric Mahayana teachings. Here I deal with what sort of obstacles, impediments, and obscurations we need to overcome, the means we employ to overcome them, and the result of having used these antidotes. This is presented from the point of view of the sutric and tantric descriptions of the path and stages of spiritual development.

The final part is devoted to the teachings and to meditation, which is seen as the culmination of the three-yana system, and that is from the point of view of the Mahamudra tradition, which is seen as going beyond Tantra itself.

It is my wish that this book will be of use to newcomers and to seasoned Buddhists as well. In my mind, if only one person is turned toward the Dharma for having read this book, I will feel more than amply rewarded.

I WOULD LIKE TO THANK all of my students to whom I have had the opportunity to give discourses and discuss the topics broached in this book. I have always found teaching to be the best way to learn the Dharma. Teaching the Buddha-Dharma is just as beneficial and profitable as is receiving the teachings from a living master. Everything I know about Buddhism I learned from Khenpo Sodar and Khenpo Noryang of Sangngag Choling

Monastery in Darjeeling, India. I would like to thank Deirdre Collings and Vyvyan Cayley for their help in preparing this book. I would also like to thank Samuel Bercholz for his inspiration and encouragement and Kendra Crossen Burroughs for her excellent editorial work. And I would like to thank Shambhala Publications for allowing this book to see the light of day.


The Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Noble Path


IN THIS BOOK we shall look at various aspects of the Buddhist tradition, and in particular at how Buddhism developed as a philosophy. This is so that we can get a comprehensive idea of Buddhism as a whole, because the type of Buddhism practiced by Tibetans is not based on one particular

school of Buddhism as such; rather, it tries to incorporate a variety of practices and philosophical thought from many different traditions. This is known as the “three yanasperspective on Buddhism. Yana (Sanskrit) is the spiritualvehicle” that transports the individual from the samsaric condition to the freedom of nirvana.

So even though Tibetan Buddhists may emphasize certain aspects of Mahayana teachings, this does not mean that they do not practice any aspect of the Theravadin tradition as we find it in Thailand, Sri Lanka, and other countries. Some people feel that Tibetan Buddhism has no link or association with the Buddhism that is practiced in those countries. But Tibetan Buddhism contains elements of teachings as we find them in all parts of the world—for example, we can even find elements of the Zen tradition in Tibetan Buddhism.

THE BUDDHA’S AWAKENING


Buddhism was founded by the Buddha about twenty-five hundred years ago. What we know about the Buddha is that he claimed to have seen the reality of things and to have gained enormous insight into the nature of the human condition. He did not claim to be an incarnation of some higher being nor to be a messenger of any kind. Neither did he say that he was an intermediary between some higher reality and human beings. He said that he was an ordinary human being who applied himself through the practice of meditation and was able to purify his own mind, so that insight was born in him, enabling him to see things as they are. And Buddha also said that this ability can be developed by anyone.

At the time of the Buddha, some people were claiming that only those of a certain social standing who were sanctioned by a divine being had the ability to aspire toward higher religious goals, while other, “lesser” beings did not have that ability. Others were saying that men had the ability to develop themselves spiritually but women lacked that capacity. The Buddha said that this ability to develop in a religious

sense has nothing to do with our social or cultural background, our religious background, or even our sex, but is available to everyone who spends the time and makes the effort to develop the insight. For this reason Buddha is known as the Enlightened One, because to gain this insight into the nature of things is to become enlightened, and that is the same as Buddhahood. The word buddha literally means “awakened.”

As ordinary human beings we are not fully awake, because our thoughts and behavior are conditioned by ignorance, confusion, misunderstanding, and lack of insight. When the mind is purified of all these defilements or pollutants (also referred to as “obscurations”) and the consciousness becomes pure and aware, then one is able to realize the nature of things; and this is the same as the attainment of Buddhahood.

We must remember that the Buddha gave these teachings within the context of the Indian tradition. He rejected two major Indian traditions. One is the teachings that came from the Upanishads, which emphasized the importance of realizing the nature of one’s own self as being identical with the reality of the world. The essence of the world is perceived as Brahman, the Absolute, and this is

identical with the pure nature of one’s own self, which is Atman. Thus, the aim of a religious practitioner is to realize the identity of one’s own higher self and the reality of the world. The Buddha rejected that as being an extreme position, which he called the eternalist or absolutist position.

He also rejected another extreme position, which was materialist-based. Believers in this extreme, called Ajivikas or Lokayatas, rejected the existence of consciousness and moral responsibility because they believed that we are made up of five elements that dissolve at the time of death, leaving nothing. There is no consciousness that persists after death, and because there is no consciousness we cannot talk of morality or anything of this nature, since these are just social conventions. The Buddha called these people nihilists.

He said that the followers of the Upanishads, the absolutists, overestimated reality, positing the existence of many kinds of things that in fact have no existence. The Buddha said that there is no essence or reality to be found either in the world or in the nature of the self; these are metaphysical constructions, fictions created by the human mind but not available to human experience.

At the same time, the nihilists underestimated reality by rejecting the existence of consciousness and so on. So the Buddha taught what he called the middle view. In terms of practice it is known as the Middle Way. The Buddha realized that many people either were very lax in

their morality, overindulging in sense gratification, or engaged in extreme ascetic practices like self-mortification. According to the Buddha, both of these two methods are inappropriate for realizing the nature of reality. He himself engaged in ascetic practices for some time but found them wanting. However, he emphasized the importance of restraint and moderation, not falling into the extreme of overindulgence.


THE FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS

The Truth of Suffering


This teaching is contained in the Four Noble Truths, in which Buddha emphasized how the middle view is to be cultivated and how to practice the Middle Way. The first of the Four Noble Truths is suffering, which is the usual translation of the Sanskrit word duhkha (Pali, dukkha). We should qualify that translation by saying that this does not mean that the Buddha didn’t acknowledge the existence of happiness

or contentment in life. The point that he was making is that there is happiness and also sorrow in the world; but the reason why everything we experience in our everyday life is said to be duhkha is that even when we have some kind of happiness, it is not permanent; it is subject to change. So unless we can gain insight into that truth and understand what is really able to give us happiness, and what is unable to provide happiness, the experience of dissatisfaction will persist.

Normally we think our happiness is contingent upon external circumstances and situations, rather than upon our own inner attitude toward things, or toward life in general. The Buddha was saying that dissatisfaction is part of life, even if we are seeking happiness and even if we manage to find temporary happiness. The very fact that it is temporary means that sooner or later the happiness is going to pass. So the Buddha said that unless we understand this and see how pervasive dissatisfaction or duhkha is, it is impossible for us to start looking for real happiness.

According to the Buddha, even when we think we are trying to find real happiness, we are not doing it effectively, because we don’t have the right attitude and we don’t know where to look for it. The Buddha was not against happiness; rather, he gave us a method of finding out how to overcome that sense of dissatisfaction, and this method is part of the last Noble Truth. We shall come to that in a few pages.

The key to understanding the truth of suffering is what the Buddha called the “three marks” of everything that exists. All conditioned phenomena,1 he said, are pervaded by these three marks: impermanence (anitya), dissatisfaction or suffering (duhkha), and insubstantiality (anatman, “without self”). According to the Buddha, if we do not understand how conditioned phenomena are marked by these three aspects, then we will not be able to understand the first Noble Truth. We may do all we can in order to avoid facing the fact that everything is contingent and transient—we may try to hide ourselves from it, and we may even spin out all kinds of metaphysical theories of an unchanging, permanent, substantial reality to avoid this all-pervasive nature of ephemerality. Also, if we do not understand that conditioned phenomena are

unsatisfactory, we will not think about restraining ourselves from overindulgence in sensory gratifications, which makes us lose our center and become immersed in worldly concerns, so that our life is governed by greed, craving, and attachment. All of these things disturb the mind. If we do not understand that everything is insubstantial—anatman—then we may believe that there is some kind of enduring essence or substance in things, or in the personality, and because of this belief we generate delusion and confusion in the mind.


The Origin of Suffering


The second Noble Truth is the origin of suffering, which means that once we have realized that suffering or dissatisfaction exist, we next have to find out where that suffering comes from: does it originate within, or does it come from some kind of external situation or condition? The

Buddha said that when we start to examine ourselves and see how we respond to situations, how we act in the world, how we feel about things, then we will realize that the cause of suffering is within. This is not to say that external social or economic conditions don’t create suffering; but the main suffering that afflicts us is created by our own mind and attitude.

The Buddha said that if we want to overcome dissatisfaction, which is intimately linked with our experience of suffering, then we have to deal with craving, grasping, clinging, and attachment—all these exaggerated forms of desire. Now, some people think that Buddhists encourage the idea of eradicating desire altogether, but that is not what the Buddha said. He said that we should try to overcome excessive and

exaggerated forms of desire, which manifest as craving, grasping, and so on, because they make our condition worse by increasing our sense of dissatisfaction and discontentment. It is the more obsessive types of desire that the Buddha said we should try to overcome. As long as we have these strong forms of desire, they will always be accompanied by aversion, hatred, resentment, and so forth, because when we

can’t get what we want, we become frustrated, angry, and resentful. Or, if we find some obstacles in the way of satisfying our desire, we want to eliminate them, eradicate them, or attack them. We may even resort to violence and deception in order to satisfy our greed and craving. So the Buddha said that we need to deal with these extreme forms of desires; but we should not aim to eradicate desire altogether, because we can use desire in all kinds of positive ways as well. (We will look at that later.)


The Goal: The Cessation of Suffering


The third Noble Truth is the goal. First we find out about the human condition, how it is pervaded by a sense of dissatisfaction, then we look at the cause of that dissatisfaction, and after that we look at the goal, which is the attainment of nirvana. Some people think nirvana is some kind of absolute reality that is transcendent and otherworldly. But the Buddha said that one can attain nirvana while still living in this world; this is called “nirvana with remainder.” One can also attain nirvana at the time of death, which is called “nirvana

without remainder.” So it is possible to achieve nirvana in this very lifetime. Achieving nirvana means that one’s mind is no longer afflicted by delusion and emotional afflictions. The mind becomes tranquil, and one’s experience of happiness is no longer dependent upon external situations and circumstances. Therefore, one’s reaction to things is less extreme, and one is able to maintain a sense of tranquillity and peace, even when faced by adverse circumstances.

This is so because the one who has attained nirvana has overcome the three root delusions of attraction, aversion, and ignorance. When the mind is no longer governed by strong emotional reactions of either attraction and aversion, we can be at peace and tranquil even when things are not going right. We maintain a sense of fortitude and face things courageously.


The Path: The Way Out of Suffering


Having realized that this is the goal—to achieve a permanent happiness that is not based upon external changing conditions—we then have to find out how to apply ourselves in order to achieve that goal. This is what the fourth Noble Truth explains. The fourth Noble Truth is the path, and this is the essence of Buddhist practice. Known as the Eightfold Noble Path, it is oriented toward developing three things in an individual:

moral sensitivity, meditation or the concentrated mind, and wisdom. Through the practice of moral sensitivity we become better individuals, able to overcome our egocentric tendencies. We become more compassionate and more sensitive to the needs of others. Through the practice of meditation our mind becomes more focused, more resilient, and more aware, which in turn gives rise to wisdom.

The Eightfold Noble Path consists of Right Understanding, Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration. The first two truths of Right Understanding and Right Thought correspond to the development of wisdom. Right Speech, Right Action, and Right Livelihood all develop our moral sensitivities. The last three—Right Effort, Right Mindfulness and Right Concentration—foster our meditative capabilities.

Right Understanding means understanding the Buddhist view, which, as we saw, is the middle view between eternalism and nihilism. As the Buddha said, knowing how the world arises due to causes and conditions enables us not to fall into the extreme of nihilism. The other

aspect of the middle view is knowing how everything ceases when causes and conditions cease. Therefore, we do not fall into the extreme of the substantialist, essentialist, or eternalist view, because we realize that, even though things come into being through causes and conditions, nothing that exists on the physical or mental plane endures when those causes and conditions are no longer present.

Right Thought is associated with seeing how our thoughts and emotions are closely linked, and how indulging in negative forms of thought leads to the development of negative emotions such as hatred and jealousy. Conversely, thinking in a positive way has an effect on our emotions, whereby we start to become more loving, more caring, and more sensitive to others.

Right Speech means that if we are not aware—as normally we are not—then we don’t know what we are saying or doing. Inadvertently, we indulge in all kinds of negative forms of speech such as lying, backbiting, haughty speech, and gossip. It is important to become

aware of our speech, because what we say and how we say it have a direct influence on the kind of person we become. If we are always using harsh words, then we naturally become very aggressive.

Right Action relates to seeing how what we do is beneficial or harmful to ourselves and others. This is involved with developing skill in the way we act in the world. Instead of thinking that we already know what is the right thing to do and what is the wrong thing to do, in a clear-cut manner, it is important to look closely at the way we act. We should not simply rely on some preestablished rules or social norms; instead we should see how we as individuals act in the world and what the effects of our actions are upon ourselves, the environment, and other people.

With respect to Right Livelihood, the Buddha said that there is nothing wrong with making money and looking after one’s family, but we must know how to make a living in a way that does not cause harm to others or ourselves. So, for example, we do not engage in an occupation that involves cruelty to animals or human beings, or one that obliges us to use deception or inflict physical or mental pain on others. If these things are involved, then we should give up that form of livelihood.

Right Effort has four aspects. The first effort has to do with prevention: making an effort through meditation to ensure that one does not yield to unwholesome thoughts and emotions, and trying to prevent these from arising in the mind. Unwholesome thoughts originate in attachment, aversion, and ignorance. The second effort is to reduce the unwholesome thoughts and emotions that have already arisen

in the mind. The third effort is to develop wholesome thoughts and emotions, and this also is done in meditation. Even if they are not yet present, we should make an effort to arouse them. The fourth effort is to cultivate further those wholesome thoughts and emotions that have already risen in the mind.

Right Mindfulness is associated with becoming more attentive to our thoughts, emotions, feelings, speech, and behavior in meditation. Whatever we experience, we become more conscious of it and more attentive to it, so that we gain more insight into the workings of the mind and how the mind influences our actions in everyday life.

Right Concentration also develops from meditation. The mind becomes more focused and less distracted. Even if we hear or see or think of something, the mind does not become distracted but is still able to maintain a state of concentration.

So that is the Eightfold Noble Path, which leads the individual from this condition of samsara2 to the attainment of nirvana, or enlightenment. As we can see, the Four Noble Truths are both descriptive and prescriptive. They describe the condition we are in—what sort of

conditions are prevalent and what the problems are. They also prescribe in terms of how to improve our situation, overcome our sense of dissatisfaction, and attain enlightenment through following the Eightfold Noble Path and its training in morality, meditation, and wisdom.

As I have said, the Four Noble Truths are the essence of all of the Buddha’s teachings. Without understanding them, we cannot proceed. All the later interpretations of the original Buddhist teachings are based on the understanding of the Four Noble Truths. There may be different ways of understanding how we can train in meditation, wisdom, or morality, but there is no disagreement in terms of the importance of the understanding of the Four Noble Truths. All other practices are based upon or elaborate these fundamental teachings of Buddhism.

1. “Conditioned phenomena” (Skt. samskrita; Pali sankhate) means that everything that exists is mutually conditioned owing to causes and conditions: things come into existence, persist for some time, and then disintegrate, thus suggesting the impermanent nature of the empirical world.

2. Samsara (Skt.) is cyclic existence, in which—owing to the corrupting influences of the mental delusions of hatred, desire, and ignorance—sentient creatures are compelled to wander from one life form to another without respite until they meet up with the spiritual path.


ETHICAL CONDUCT

Doing What Is Truly Beneficial


FROM THE BUDDHIST POINT OF VIEW, a spiritual practitioner’s ultimate aim is to attain self-realization or self-knowledge, to reach his or her full potential. That is equated with Buddhahood or enlightenment. So for a Buddhist it is very important to understand the immediate condition that we are in and the experiences we have. When we look around, we see that beings experience a lot of suffering in a variety of ways.

We don’t have to look very far to find suffering. Every time we turn on the television we see suffering: in the Middle East, in Asia and in Africa, in America. Suffering is endemic to the human condition. But when we talk about suffering in Buddhist terms, we don’t simply mean the suffering with which we can actually identify and which we can label as real suffering. This kind of suffering is obvious, such as atrocities and oppression, repressive regimes that torture innocent people, and so on.

When Buddhists talk about suffering, they mean other kinds of suffering as well—experiences that we think are not suffering at all but happiness, the ultimate goal that we should be striving toward. When we speak of duhkha, we mean a sense of dissatisfaction, which covers a whole range of human experiences.


THREE KINDS OF SUFFERING


From the Buddhist point of view, suffering can be experienced on three different levels. First is the suffering of pain (duhkha-duhkhata). This is the kind of obvious suffering of war, famine, political oppression, injustice, and so on.

Then there is the suffering of change (viparinama-duhkhata). That’s the kind of suffering that we do not usually think of as real suffering. You may think, “Well, at work lately I’ve been under a lot of stress, but I’ll take a holiday and have a good time, and then I’ll be really happy.” Then you go, and you may end up arguing with your partner or you may have a lot of problems with booking airfares; or when you arrive, your luggage may be lost

and you can’t recover it. You may have all kinds of experiences that you could not foresee, so that what is initially pleasurable can turn into a form of suffering. That’s the suffering of change.

The last form of suffering is known as the suffering of conditioned existence (samsara-duhkhata), which means that just by virtue of being human or a living creature, we are a product of causes and conditions. When we are born, we experience birth trauma; when we grow up, we have all kinds of problems associated with adolescence; after that, we have problems associated with adulthood and finally with old age, with the weakening of the body. So we experience suffering, pain, and illness, and eventually we die and that’s the end of the story. That is the human condition, that is what we have to deal with.

Some Western commentators on Buddhism have said that Buddhism is pessimistic because it concentrates so much on suffering. But actually, it is not pessimistic; it is realistic. The truth of suffering need not make us feel pessimistic and hopeless.

There is a way that we can try to understand it. We have to be able to face up to unpleasant experiences and situations, the reality of things, the facts as they are. That is the real concern of Buddhism; because if we are not able to do that, then we will have this temptation to think that what is not really the source of happiness is the one thing that is going to give us happiness. (I am going to explain what that means shortly.)

So first of all, when we understand that there is suffering in the world, we must correctly identify the source of that suffering. Suffering comes from within, from the mind. This is extremely important, because all kinds of people have tried to understand what is really the cause of suffering. Some people say that it is due to our sin, others say that it is because we have become distant from God or we have disobeyed God. Still others say it has to do with our social structures, our economic system, the repression of sexual instincts, childhood traumas, or alienation.

From the Buddhist point of view, these are just intermediary causes of our suffering rather than the real cause, which is ignorance: not knowing what is beneficial and what is not beneficial; not knowing what will really produce our happiness and what will increase our unhappiness and suffering. Lack of knowledge, lack of insight—this is the real cause.

So we have to look within. That does not mean we should disregard the injustice and repression that goes on in the world, but we should always look at these things as reflections of ourselves and what is going on in our own minds. What happens in the external world mirrors what is going on in the minds of individual human beings. We may blame a big corporation for being greedy, for exploiting a Third World country, and so on, but that may not be very different from small-business people doing exactly the same thing with their employees.

In Third World countries, people may look at the so-called First World countries with a sense of envy or hostility, and even with some kind of respect, a mixture of feelings. Similarly, we may look at people who are successful, who are millionaires, and feel a sense of envy, and also feel a sense of respect for the fact that they have achieved something we haven’t. It is very easy to project all these things onto others and think that what is wrong is that society is not functioning well or that the big corporations are doing terrible things. In this way of thinking there is always someone else to blame, without looking at how the situation has come about in the first place.

Societies and big corporations are not amorphous entities but are made up of a collection of individuals just like ourselves. So for Buddhists it is not God who has created the world but our own mind—the mind is the one responsible for all our experiences: joy, happiness, pain, suffering. This is not only in terms of what we experience; the mind also fabricates the kind of world that we live in. The world that we live in is created by our mind.

Therefore, it is very important as a Buddhist to understand how the mind functions, and that is why the practice of meditation is so important for Buddhists. It has nothing to do with creating a state closer to a greater reality or some kind of spiritual reality that is independent of our mind. The practice of meditation has to do with the greater understanding of ourselves. A lot of our problems come

about precisely because we do not understand ourselves, we do not have self-knowledge, we have no insight into ourselves. It is because of ignorance, which is called avidya in Sanskrit. In order to find out how the mind works, we have to see what sort of things will promote our happiness and what sort of things will increase our pain and suffering.


THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS


Normally we think that doing this, that, and the other thing will bring us happiness. We think, “When I get acknowledged by my friends, if they like me, then I’ll be happy; if I’m married and have children and have a loving partner who will take care of me, then I’ll be so happy; if I don’t have to work so hard but have a lot of money, then I’ll be so happy.”

This line of thought is endless. If you are short, then you think that if you were tall you would be so happy; or if you were thin, then you’d be so happy. If you have a long nose, you think a smaller nose would be so wonderful; or if you are bald, you think you should have hair. Such beliefs do have an element of truth in them. Buddhists would agree that if you were healthier, of course you would be happier. If you had a supportive family, you would be much happier.

But the problem is that these things only produce temporary happiness, not lasting happiness. As Buddhists, our aim should not be just to achieve temporary happiness. Buddhists do not say that there is no happiness at all, or that no matter what you do it is all suffering, suffering, and more suffering. But we should have a proper perspective on our life, by which I mean that we should try to attain lasting happiness.

When we rely on temporary happiness, we are investing too much in something that is full of uncertainties. If we rely too much on our work, we may spend twenty years working for a particular company, and we put so much into it so that our whole perception of ourselves is fashioned by the work we do for that company and the kind of acquisitions we are able to realize as a result of that work. Then one day we may get sacked, and all of a sudden our whole reality falls apart and we feel like committing suicide. This actually happens to some people.

Buddhism says that we should have our own priorities in order. To obtain happiness, we must have inner peace. Real, lasting happiness is not obtained from an external source. This doesn’t mean that we can’t have happiness based upon external circumstances and situations, but the real, lasting happiness must come from within. When we become too dependent on external circumstances and situations, we lose ourselves in them. Instead of

consolidating our identity, instead of finding ourselves, we actually lose ourselves. We all know this. We know a person who has been in a work environment for many, many years and who all of a sudden thinks, “Wait a minute, what have I been doing? I haven’t done anything with my life.” Or people who have been raising children for twenty or thirty years, always doing things for the family, for

the kids. All of a sudden the mother might say, “Oh, look, I haven’t done anything to find out who I am, what it is to be me.” We can become completely lost, instead of finding ourselves. Normally our identity is almost exclusively conditioned by the kind of credentials we have, which school we went to, what sort of education we have had, what degrees we have, what sort of family we have, what suburb we live in, what car

we drive. Buddhism says we should not rely too much on these things, because the car could be repossessed, or the liquidators could come and take our business away. Anything can happen. Your spouse may take on a lover, who knows? Of course, we should certainly aspire toward excellence in our work and parenting and so on, but we should keep things in perspective and not expect more than they can deliver.

Having realized that, we can move on to considering the Buddhist path as a means of overcoming this problem. As we have seen, the Eightfold Noble Path consists of training in morality (shila), meditation (samadhi), and wisdom (prajna). These three trainings basically enable us to change our behavior as well as our way of thinking and experiencing. Let us begin by concentrating on training in morality, or shila.


TRAINING IN MORALITY (Shila)


When we talk about morality, we normally think in terms of duty or obligation, but Buddhist morality is essentially concerned with what is beneficial (kusala) versus what is harmful (akusala). We should judge our actions in relation to whether we are benefiting ourselves and others or harming ourselves and others. In this way Buddhist morality is grounded in human experience. It has no reference to a

supernatural being. We do not have to have a concept of a deity or God in order to have a concept of morality or to appreciate the importance of morality.

Some people feel that if we did not believe in God, then everything would be permissible; but then, on the other hand, those same people say that God has his own law, distinct from human law. The law or morality pertaining to human beings has no relevance when it comes

to what God wants to do, in which case this human law and morality become arbitrary. This philosophical debate dates back to Plato, who asked: Is something good because God said it is good, or is it good independently of God? If it is good independently of God, then it has nothing to do with God; but if it is good only because God said so, then this means it is totally arbitrary.

According to Buddhism, a particular action is good because it is good in itself, not because God decreed it to be so. My point here is that Buddhist morality is not founded upon any theological basis whatsoever. What is a good action or what is a bad action is determined by a moral criterion only, not a theological one, and there is no need for theological justifications.

For Buddhists, a particular action is morally wrong precisely because it causes suffering to other people or to a large number of sentient beings. Thus, leading a moral life is not like being an obedient person or conforming to a preestablished law or norm. The Buddha said that morality should be seen as a liberating experience. Instead of being a constricting force that demands, “Thou shalt do this” or “Thou shalt not do that,” morality is a liberating influence, because it can enhance our well-being.

Freud, who was brought up in the Jewish tradition, thought that the conflict between id and superego meant that the id wants to do nasty things and the superego says, “No, you can’t.” We are not thinking like this; instead of creating more conflict between what we want to do and what we are allowed to do, we find that what we should do will become what we want to do.

The Buddha said that shila is like a cool breeze that blows at midday or in the afternoon of an Indian summer. That cool breeze can be so refreshing. He said that when we start to practice morality in this way, we realize that all our mental agitation, all our resentment,

hostility, and bitterness, actually begin to subside. Instead of increasing our mental agitation by thinking, “I’m on the side of the good and you’re on the side of the evil, so let’s fight,” we begin to become more open and more understanding of people from different cultures and backgrounds. When we look at life not in terms of what is right and what is wrong, but in terms of what is beneficial and what is not beneficial, then we can have a different experience of morality.

It is a very important point, also, that doing what is “right” is not always beneficial, and doing what is “wrong” is not always harmful. Buddhist morality is not a self-imposed moral world unto itself. It is an open-ended one, and we have to use our own judgment much of the time, in terms of what is beneficial and what is harmful. Lacking in wisdom as we are, it is very difficult to foresee the consequences of our actions. But the other component of morality is motivation. If we do something with a pure intention, then even though, out of a lack of wisdom, our action may turn out harmful rather than beneficial, that action is not morally condemnable.

With this background of Buddhist ethics in mind, we can now look at the moral guidelines Buddha provided for his followers. Which actions should we refrain from and which actions should we take, with the view to helping ourselves and others?


SIX TRANSCENDENTAL ACTIONS (Paramitas)


First we look at what the Buddha thought we should strive toward. These actions are called paramitas (Tibetan, pharol tu chimpa), or “transcendental actions.” The six paramitas are best known in Mahayana Buddhism, and I will return to these later. However, early Buddhism also talked about six paramitas. These transcendental actions are not oriented toward increasing our defilements or obscurations, or toward increasing our emotional conflict or conceptual confusions; they are actions that help to alleviate these very things.

The first one is giving. Apart from giving material things to the needy, it also involves social work and giving to relief funds and other charities. In Buddhist countries we also try to liberate captive animals, releasing fish into the sea or buying captive birds from the market and setting them free, as a way of giving back their life. This is seen as a very important practice. The effects of giving are important not only to the

recipient but to the giver as well. When we learn to give, we become less attached and less dependent on our possessions. This is how we can learn to be less greedy and grasping.

The second practice is conduct. Conduct means that we take responsibility for our own actions. As soon as something goes wrong, instead of thinking that we are the victim of circumstances or of society or family upbringing, we should take full responsibility for our

actions. In fact, when we take full responsibility for our actions, we become a full person and we begin to feel free, because freedom and responsibility go together. When we feel like the victim, there is no freedom; we feel impotent, incapacitated. But when we feel that we are responsible for our actions, then we feel free, because how can we be responsible for something if we have no choice?

The third paramita is restraint. This means that we should not be excessive in our indulgences or in our pursuit of pleasure. We should be aware of ourselves, so that we do not become addicted to whatever it is that gives us pleasure, and we should be able to make distinctions between our needs and our wants. We should not just go shopping for the sake of shopping, buying all those clothes that we will never wear or buying all kinds of gadgets that we will never use, and ending up being in debt. Of course, this does not mean we should walk around in rags or that we may not be fashion-conscious or dress properly.

The fourth practice is wisdom. Cultivation of wisdom involves understanding impermanence, realizing that everything is contingent and subject to change. We will go into that later when we start to talk about training in wisdom. Many people say that everything is impermanent, but when Buddhists talk about impermanence, they mean something more than just knowing that things change. The fifth paramita

is energy. This means that we must have willpower; because if we do not have willpower, if we are suffering from weakness of will, then we can’t stop what we should not be doing and we can’t do what we should be doing. Without willpower we feel helpless to break through that chain; we feel dependent and the victim of circumstances. So it is very important to develop that sense of willpower or energy.

The sixth virtue that we should be cultivating is patience. Patience obviously means that we should not look for immediate gratification. We should allow time for things to develop and not expect instant results. We should not be too hasty in whatever we do, wanting things to work in a very short period of time. Of course it also means that we should have more tolerance toward disappointments, setbacks, and failures. Just because we fail does not mean we should give up. We should persist in an intelligent and relaxed manner, without being pushy or fixated.

FIVE PRECEPTS (Pancha-shila)


That concludes the list of things that we should try to do. Now let us briefly go through the other list of things that we should try not to do, according to the Buddha’s moral guidelines. I say “moral guidelines” because according to the Buddha, these precepts are just guidelines, not rigid laws. We should try to stick to them more in terms of the spirit rather than the letter, not thinking that they are inviolable and fixed.

The things that we should abstain from doing are called pancha-shila: pancha means “five,” shila is “conduct.” The first precept is abstaining from harming sentient beings. Before we can learn how to love others, first we have to learn how not to harm others. We should not harm any sentient being, and this doesn’t mean just human beings, but also animals and even insects. We shouldn’t harm them unnecessarily. In Buddhist

countries like Tibet, when farmers have to kill insects, they do so with regret, with a sense of feeling for the insects they kill, rather than seeing them as pests ruining their farmlands.

When Buddhists talk about ahimsa, or “nonharming,” this also includes respect for the environment and biosphere. It means abstaining from harming not only those sentient beings who have self-consciousness, but anything that can grow and prosper and that may be tampered with through human interference. In the teachings it is said that if we develop friendliness, even a venomous snake will respond to it. I was once in Madhya Pradesh in central India, where there is a Tibetan settlement. There were a lot of snakes there. Because of their

Buddhist upbringing, the Tibetans didn’t kill any snakes, but the local Indians would kill the snakes as soon as they spotted them. What I observed was that the Tibetans were able to wander around safely. In this particular monastery, which at the time was a very temporary kind of shed, snakes would crawl along the beams. Sometimes a monk would be meditating and a snake would come crawling into

his lap. The snakes never reacted in an aggressive manner to the monks or to any of the Tibetans, but as soon as they heard Indian voices, either they would try to escape or they would become very aggressive. I don’t know whether they have some intelligence, or whether through generations the snakes of that area have developed a biological sensitivity to different inputs. Whatever it is, there was a clear difference. In any case, not harming sentient beings is obviously a good thing.

The second guideline says we should abstain from that which is not given. Apart from taking things by force from others, we sometimes try to procure what we desire through trickery, deception, or sweet talk. For example, if your wealthy grandmother is dying, you start to visit the nursing home more often, hoping that she might leave you something, maybe even everything. We all do that sort of thing, I suppose. It includes generally misleading another person or coercing the person into handing over whatever it is you desire, through threat, manipulation, and trickery.

The third precept is abstaining from sexual misconduct. In Buddhism, sex is not seen as something evil or unnatural in itself. Lay Buddhists can have sexual pleasure and normal sex lives without feeling guilt or fear of punishment. However, a warning is given that if one becomes obsessed with sex, like all obsessions it can cause enormous harm to oneself and others.

Once again the real criterion is how much harm one is causing, rather than the sexual act itself. So this should not be misconstrued to mean no sex, or that sex is only for procreation. Abstaining from sexual misconduct means that we should not engage in sexual activities that cause conflict, resentment, or hurt. For example, if we have affairs and this causes pain and suffering to our

partner, then it is sexual misconduct and we should refrain from it. But it is made very clear in the Buddhist teachings that what is acceptable and what is not acceptable in terms of sexual and procreative activities varies from culture to culture, and also from individual to individual, so these factors should be taken into account. Fundamentally, it means those sexual activities that cause harm by creating hurt, resentment, bitterness, and disappointment.

The fourth activity that we should abstain from is false speech. Lying is obviously one example of false speech, but there are others, such as spreading rumors, gossiping, backbiting, character assassination, speaking ill of others. It is not lying itself that is evil, but what lying or what false speech can do. We can see the harm it causes. But there are also exceptions. This is why I said that

these are moral guidelines only, because one may do more benefit than harm by telling a lie in some exceptional circumstances. The general rule, however, is that lying is something we should refrain from, particularly when the lie is going to cause harm.

The fifth precept is abstaining from alcohol and other intoxicants. Again, alcohol itself is not to blame; but some people who drink alcohol become influenced by it in a way that is destructive both to themselves and others. We know how much of a problem our societies have with drunk drivers, and cases such as people killing their loved ones while in an alcoholic stupor. Alcohol can impair our

judgment and cause us to lose consciousness, so that we cannot remember what we did while we were drunk. In the Vinaya—the text explaining the rules of life for monks and nuns—when the Buddha talked about abstaining from alcohol and other forms of intoxicants, he told a kind of parable. A monk was out begging for food one day when he came across a woman selling alcohol. She offered him three choices. The

first one was to drink alcohol, the second to kill a goat, and the third to have sex with her. He said, “No, I can’t kill the goat; a Buddhist monk would never do such a thing. I can’t have sex—I’m a monk; I’m celibate. So I’ll take the alcohol.” He drank the beer, and once he got drunk, he killed the goat and had sex with the woman. The Buddha said that’s why alcohol is something we should abstain from, precisely because it can have strange effects on some people.


All the guidelines that we have looked at so far are practical in nature. They give us guidelines for how we should live, what sort of things we should do and what sort of things we should try to refrain from, to increase our own well-being and happiness—lasting happiness, that is—and also to make other people’s lives easier. As you can see from this discussion, in Buddhism we do not subscribe to any form of moral

absolutism. By this I mean that whatever ethical action we choose, we have to take the situation and a variety of factors into account. We cannot have preconceived notions of right and wrong. Moral absolutists may feel that they know what is right and wrong and, consequently, will not face any form of moral dilemma. Buddhism does not take such a view. For example, abortion may not be a good thing, but in certain circumstances

it may be more beneficial to have an abortion than not to have one. If you are starving and have no choice but to steal a loaf of bread, then probably it is more beneficial to steal that bread rather than think, “I subscribe to such-and-such a religious view, which prohibits stealing, so I must allow myself to die rather than steal.” In Buddhist ethics we always have to be aware of certain exceptions such as these. Thus, the paramitas are seen not as moral commandments but as moral guidelines.


MEDITATION

Changing Our Mental Outlook


WITHOUT WISDOM AND INSIGHT, clearly we can never have total self-confidence in what we are doing. With greater insight, we may be able to understand what is truly beneficial and what is truly harmful. Wisdom cannot be developed or cultivated without the practice of meditation, which is the most important part of the Buddhist teachings. It establishes the link between wisdom and ethics or moral conduct. It is through the

[[[practice of meditation]]]] that we discover which states of mind, emotions, thoughts, and attitudes are beneficial and which are harmful to ourselves and others, and also how these states influence our interaction with other people and the way we live our lives.

If we want to change our behavior, we must have a greater understanding of our own minds and we need to change our attitudes. We also need to change the way we express our emotions. When we do this, we see that negative thoughts and emotions have to be gradually eradicated, not only because they are harmful to others but also because they are fundamentally very harmful to ourselves. That should be the basic motivation for wanting to overcome our negative emotional traits, attitudes, and thoughts.

At a “Mind and Life” conference held in Dharamsala, India, many leading physical scientists, neurologists, psychiatrists, and other specialists met with Buddhist teachers for the purpose of exchanging information. Through reading certain books on Buddhism, these scientists had discovered similarities between Buddhism and their clinical practice. What they had learned was similar to what Buddhists have been saying in relation to how our mental outlook affects our physical health and general well-being.

From a Buddhist point of view, our moral behavior and mental attitudes of necessity have some bearing on our well-being. We refrain from doing certain things not only because they are morally wrong, but because refraining from them fundamentally promotes our well-being. Feelings such as resentment and bitterness gradually make us weak, frustrated, and unhappy, rather than having any impact on the person toward whom we direct these emotions. Probably the other person is away enjoying a nice holiday while we are unable to sleep or eat because we are busy suffering.

When we see how important it is to change our mental outlook, we need a particular technique in order to achieve this. The technique is the practice of meditation. In Buddhism there are two different types of meditation: tranquillity (shamatha) and insight (vipashyana).

THE MEDITATION OF TRANQUILLITY (Shamatha)


The meditation of tranquillity teaches us how to become settled and calm and to concentrate so that our minds are not always reaching out, grabbing on to this and that, and becoming scattered. We learn how to focus our minds, to become centered. We also learn how to be present and not dwell on our past achievements, failures, regrets, or guilt associated with all kinds of things that we may have done or failed to do. Likewise, we learn how not to dwell on or feel anxious about the future: what we would like to achieve, the possibility of not being able to achieve our goals, the imminent obstacles that we can foresee, and so on. We can learn how to be in the present and remain focused. If we indulge in all these mental activities without focus, we lose our perspective and start to react to things more and more from habitual responses rather than from clear understanding. Through the practice of meditation, we can learn how to be attentive and in the present.

As we sit in meditation and a thought or an emotion arises, we let go of it; we try not to dwell on it. At the same time, we do not anticipate the thoughts or emotions that may arise in the future. When we sit, we try to concentrate, usually on the breath. We try not to judge whatever arises in the mind, but simply let it arise and dissipate. As we become more focused, and as we develop a greater ability to remain in a state of concentration, the emotional conflicts that we normally experience begin to subside. When they subside, it becomes possible for wisdom to arise. If the mind is disturbed and distracted, it is impossible to develop wisdom.

The Five Hindrances (Nivaranas)


While we are engaged in the meditation of tranquillity, we must be aware of what are known as the five hindrances. The first one of these is called sensual desire. This term alludes to the mind’s tendency always to latch on to something that attracts it—a thought, a visual object, or a particular emotion. When we allow the mind to indulge in such attractions, we lose our concentration. So we need to apply mindfulness and be aware of how the mind operates; we don’t necessarily have to suppress all these things arising in the mind, but we should take notice of them and see how the mind behaves, how it automatically grabs on to this and that.

The second hindrance is ill will; it is the opposite of the first hindrance, being brought about by aversion rather than attraction. Ill will refers to all kinds of thoughts related to wanting to reject, feelings of hostility, resentment, hatred, and bitterness. When they arise, we should take note of them, not necessarily suppressing them but seeing how they arise. At the same time, we should try to practice loving-kindness meditation, which I shall describe shortly.

The third hindrance to meditation is lethargy and drowsiness. This is a very familiar one for people who meditate. When this hindrance is present, we lose our focus in meditation. We may not be agitated in any perceptible way, but there is no mental clarity. We gradually become more and more drowsy and then eventually go to sleep. When this happens, instead of persisting with the practice of meditation, it is better to try to refresh ourselves by getting up and going for a walk or washing our face, after which we return to our meditation.

The fourth hindrance is restlessness and worry, which refers to all the mental activities that go on in our mind owing to its restless nature. The mind cannot allow us to remain still even for a minute. To counteract this hindrance is once more a matter of applying mindfulness and seeing how the mind behaves, how it reacts to things, and not judging it in terms of what we are experiencing. If we are experiencing something “bad,” we should not think that it is bad; if it is “good,” we should not think that it is good. We simply take note of what is happening.

The fifth hindrance is called skeptical doubt or, as some have translated it, fear of commitment. When we meditate in the presence of this hindrance, we have a constant nagging feeling: “How do I know that I’m doing it right? How do I know that this thing really works and I’m not just wasting my time? How do I know that what the Buddhist teachings say is true? How do I know that what the meditation teachers have taught me is right and that they are not deluded?”

This excessive skeptical doubt has no value and becomes an obstacle to meditation. To work with this hindrance, we should seek to better understand the mind’s functioning through reading and trying to broaden our knowledge, instead of indulging in this state of doubt.

Through the practice of tranquillity meditation, we begin to see how our mental attitudes, emotions, and thoughts create the kind of person we are, the character and personality that we have. When we realize this, it is possible to become a different person.

The Four Divine Abodes (Brahmaviharas)


In conjunction with the practice of tranquillity, the meditator is also encouraged to practice what are known as the four brahmaviharas. Some translators have rendered these as the four “cardinal virtues of Buddhism,” or as the four “divine abodes.” They are: loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. According to Buddhism, it is not easy for us to become full of loving-kindness or compassion just like that. We have to learn how to do it. We don’t seem to have to train ourselves in how to become obnoxious, but it does take a great deal of effort to develop qualities such as loving-kindness.

Some people have said: “Buddhists simply engage in the meditation of loving-kindness—they don’t do anything.” However, the Buddhist view is that if we develop a real sense of loving-kindness and compassion through meditation, then we will be able to express them much more skillfully in the real world. This does not mean that we have to wait until we attain enlightenment before we can be loving. But by trying to think more positive thoughts, gradually we can become more positive in our outlook, and this will have a more positive impact on others.

Loving-kindness (maitri) meditation is practiced by sending loving benevolence to specific individuals. When we begin to practice loving-kindness, it is said that the object of that practice should not be a “difficult person,” somebody we find hard to get along with, because

loving-kindness for that person will not arise naturally. The object of loving-kindness practice should also not be a loved one, because all kinds of distortions may be introduced into the love that we feel for that person. The object of loving-kindness practice should not be

someone to whom we feel indifferent, because, again, at this initial stage it is very hard to try to generate love toward someone in whom we have no interest. It is also said that in the beginning we should not try to do this practice with a person of the opposite sex as the object of practice.1 So what sort of people are left after that?

According to the teachings, we should first practice loving-kindness toward ourselves—we are the person whom we should truly try to love, although not in an egocentric manner. From there, we can transfer that feeling to a large group of people who are in need of love, and then gradually try to expand our horizon by including all sentient beings. It is said that we have to do this step by step.

When we try to generate loving-kindness, we have to make sure that it does not become distorted and turn into attachment. Loving-kindness is a really expansive feeling, whereas attachment is narrow and distorts our vision of things. In Buddhism, loving other sentient beings

(not just humans, but all sentient beings) is the ultimate kind of love. There is no difference between eros and agape.

The second divine abode is compassion (karuna), which is developed when we witness suffering. Beings undergo a variety of sufferings—torture, oppression, all kinds of disadvantages and deprivations. When we witness these things, compassion wells up in our hearts. The word compassion literally means “suffering with” others. But in Buddhism, when we feel compassion it is not about suffering with others, but rather seeing the plight they are in and then seeking to alleviate their suffering.

The third divine abode is sympathetic joy (mudita), which means that when others are happy, we rejoice with them. We do not feel envy or jealousy at other people’s happiness; we feel joy because they feel joy.

The last abode is equanimity (upeksha), which is the most important, because without equanimity, loving-kindness can become attachment, compassion can turn into sentimentality, and sympathetic joy can turn into elation. But if we have a proper sense of equanimity, it is possible to keep things in perspective so that our own biases, expectations, and fears do not come in the way of

our ability to express these positive emotions. Even with equanimity, however, we must apply mindfulness, because equanimity may turn into indifference, which is actually its opposite. With a sense of equanimity, we are able to do things for ourselves and others, and we can maintain a broader vision; whereas when we are indifferent, we have no interest whatsoever.


THE MEDITATION OF INSIGHT (Vipashyana)


So through the practice of the meditation of tranquillity we can learn how to create a tranquil state of mind that is not visibly disturbed. But that in itself is not sufficient. We must learn how to develop insight. The practice of the meditation of tranquillity can make it possible for us to develop insight, but by itself it cannot produce insight. For that we must practice the meditation of insight, or vipashyana, beginning with what are known as the four foundations of insight. These are mindfulness of the body, mindfulness of feelings,

mindfulness of the mind, and mindfulness of conditioned things. The practice of the meditation of insight relates to obtaining some insight into, or understanding of, the nature of reality, of how things are. When the mind becomes less deluded, and as the obscurations lessen, it is possible to see things more clearly. This includes seeing things as being impermanent and ever-changing, and seeing that nothing has any enduring essence. Through the four foundations of mindfulness, therefore, we can gain insight into impermanence.

With mindfulness of the body, as we begin to observe the body, its sensations, the breath going in and going out, and our experiences on the physical level, we can see the changes that are taking place in the body. The mindfulness of feelings keeps us in touch with the modulations of how we feel, in terms of pain, pleasure, and neutral feelings, and how these feelings are constantly changing.

Mindfulness of the mind reveals how unstable the mind itself is, in its thoughts, concepts, and ideas. Lastly, mindfulness of conditioned things means realizing that everything is conditioned and a product of causes and conditions. Nothing can

exist by itself, including the mind or our notion of the self. When we think of the self, we think of it as some kind of entity that exists independently of our psychophysical constituents. We talk about “my” body, “my” mind, “my” feelings, “my” perceptions, “my” memory, and so on. Through this practice, as we reflect on our self, for example, we begin to realize that there is no self as an independent entity, that the self is just a collection of physical and mental factors.

We will return to the subject of meditation later, to look at further details of the practice.

1. Classic Theravadin texts on meditation such as the Visudhimagga and the great Mahayana saint and scholar Shantideva’s work Bodhicharyavatara devoted substantial attention to contemplation of the ugly, vile, repulsive aspects of the body. Such meditations were practiced not to see sex as being either impure or intrinsically debased, but in order to remove the attraction toward the opposite gender or perhaps toward the same gender. The use of such meditations is viewed as a therapeutic technique.


KARMA AND REBIRTH

Everything Is in Relationship


WE CANNOT COMPLETE OUR DISCUSSION of early Buddhism without including the very important concepts of karma and rebirth. In Buddhism the idea of causality is extremely important. What we mean by causality is that nothing in existence has any kind of enduring essence. Everything is in relationship; everything exists in a dependent manner. Nothing can exist of its own accord. Therefore, everything that exists is causally dependent, either in the physical or mental realm.

That being the case, we must view morality also in terms of causality. Morality is dependent upon the notion of karma, because karma refers to the law of cause and effect in the moral realm. Whatever we do creates certain mental impressions, which in turn produce karmic residues that later come to fruition when the appropriate causes and conditions are present. When we do something positive, wholesome, and good, certain positive impressions are automatically left in the mind. They produce positive and healthy dispositions in us, so that our experiences in the future will be positive and healthy.

When we look at ourselves and at other people, it may not be immediately apparent how this karmic cause and effect operates. For instance, there are good people who do good things and yet they may be experiencing a lot of suffering. They may be ill, disadvantaged, or oppressed. And there are bad people who are nonetheless enjoying a good life. The theory of reincarnation or rebirth is an extension of the concept of karma, which means that we have to look at the whole thing in terms of our previous existence. (I don’t like to use the word incarnation

because it may imply a preexisting psychic substance or soul, and Buddhism does not accept the existence of an eternal soul that incarnates. However, Buddhism believes in a stream of consciousness that gets transferred from one birth to the next. This stream of consciousness is an instance of mental occurrence, arising due to its own internal momentum as well as external stimuli, all of which seemingly perpetuate its continuity over time. It thus serves as the basis for one’s self-identity.) Even though a person may not have done anything wrong in this life, that person can have terrible, unwanted experiences because of what he or she has done in a previous life.

Rebirth does not occur in a haphazard way but is governed by the law of karma. At the same time, good and bad rebirths are not seen as rewards and punishments but as resulting from our own actions. That is why in Tibetan the karmic law is called le gyu dre, which means “karmic cause and effect.” From this we can see how important it is to develop positive and healthy attitudes, because what we do is tied up with the kind of person we are and the kind of mental attitudes we have. We cannot separate these three, because they are intimately related. If we think negative

thoughts, we will become negative persons, and if we become negative persons, we will do negative things. For example, if we indulge in aggressive thoughts and harbor resentment or bitterness toward others, we will become an aggressive person. When we indulge in negative or aggressive thoughts, those thoughts have a way of working their way into action, so that we become negative, aggressive people

Without some insight into ourselves and our minds, simply paying attention to what we do will not make us better people in a significant way. For this reason, we should be more attentive to our intentions and attitudes than our behavior or actions.

There is no room in the Buddhist precepts for expressions of moral indignation or outrage. The expressions of unbridled negative emotions such as hatred or disgust toward opponents or those who don’t share our own moral worldview are seen as the very root causes of our moral weaknesses. An excessive fixation on “right” and “wrong,” the deluded belief that we are on the side of right and good,

waging a war against what we perceive as being bad, indulging in or harboring thoughts and emotions that would lead to harmful actions and conduct—all these are to be avoided. Thus, as Buddhists, not only should we engage in good and wholesome actions constantly and consistently, but we should be observant of our inner mental states as well. The Buddha said in the Nikayas (Pali sutras of the early Buddhist canon): “O monks, this I call karma: having had the intention, one acts through body, speech, and mind.” So the intention is more important than the action. If our intention is right and sincere and our mind is pure, then even if we do not pay much attention to the actions themselves, we will be able to act in a way that is conducive to the well-being of others, as well as of ourselves.

Even though the happiness, unhappiness, pleasure, or pain that we experience is proportional to our karmic merit or demerit, we should not just accept the situation in which we find ourselves. Buddhism does not encourage a sense of fatalism. Believing in karma does not mean that we should say, “Well, this is my karma, and my karmic lot is so terrible that I can’t do anything about it. I’m a loser; I’m a

failure.” If we find ourselves in an unsatisfactory situation, we should try to improve it or get out of it. There may be a number of options available. Instead of promoting the idea of fatalism, karmic theory actually supports the idea of taking personal responsibility for our actions.

Many of our experiences are not purely a result of karma but are due to our own folly, negligence, or lack of responsibility. For example, if we get sick, obviously we are not going to say, “Well, it’s because of my karma that I’m sick, so I’m not going to seek medical attention.” We know we should see a doctor and find out what this illness is about. Karmic theory concurs with taking responsibility and wanting to improve the situation, in terms of not only individuals but society as well. Here in the West, people have criticized Buddhists for not being socially aware and not taking social action. They say that people are poor in the East mainly because, in Buddhist countries, they have been taught that it’s their karma to suffer and be oppressed, that the situation has nothing to do with social factors and there is nothing they can do to improve it.

However, karmic theory does not say that people should just accept the way things are; we should try our best to change things, to transform ourselves, or to improve social conditions. When our best efforts fail, however, that is the time for us to accept the situation. Suppose that no matter what we do, we still can’t change things and there is nothing we can do about it. In such a situation, instead of getting

frustrated, angry, or depressed, we should try to learn to live with it. Feelings of enormous psychological stress, anxiety, and suffering simply make things worse. If we feel extremely angry and frustrated about a situation that we can’t change, that tends to produce more negative karma, and thus we will experience even more torment and suffering in the future.

To use the example of sickness again, we may have tried everything to combat an illness, but nothing has worked. Then it is better to acknowledge that it is our own karma that has made us ill, and there is no cure. It is better to try to accept the situation than to fight or deny it. Trying to live with that sickness is a much healthier attitude than doing something that is not conducive to our own well-being, such as denying the reality of the illness or having misguided confidence in our powers of recovery.

We should not think of the law of karma in terms of a strict one-to-one causal relationship. There are so many factors involved in our daily circumstances. For example, if I physically assault someone, there will be several factors involved: my intention, my action, and the person whom I have hurt physically. All these factors have a bearing on the karmic consequence that I am going to experience. If the person whom I have struck is a scumbag, as people say, that would be different from hitting a saintly person like Mother Teresa or the Dalai Lama

totally different. Why I hit that person would also have to be taken into account. The law of karma is not so mechanical that if you do a particular action, then invariably a certain effect will manifest. Even if the action is the same, because of these other factors the karmic result may be very different. Thus, the law of karma is not rigid and mechanical but is fluid and malleable.

Good actions, called kusala in Pali or gewa in Tibetan, are “skillful actions” that produce positive experiences and create healthy dispositions. Bad actions, called akusala in Pali or mi gewa in Tibetan, are “unskillful actions” that produce a variety of unwanted psychological experiences. In the Majhimma Nikaya Sutra, the Buddha describes skillful and unskillful actions in the following manner: “Whatever action—bodily, verbal, or mental—leads to suffering for oneself, for others, or for both, that action is akusala, unskillful action. Whatever action—bodily, verbal, or mental—does not lead to suffering for oneself, for others, or for both, that is skillful action, kusala.”

This statement makes it clear that whenever we do something, we should take our own needs and those of others into account. It is not sufficient to think of others’ needs alone; nor is it sufficient to take only our own needs into account. There must be a balance. If we think of others’ happiness only, we may suffer as a consequence. You may know people who think that they should sacrifice themselves to work for the

benefit of others, not thinking about their own benefit. And, of course, there are others, far greater in number, who think that they should do everything possible to promote their own happiness and forget about others. Thus, skillful action means taking both others’ needs and our own needs into account, so that they are balanced.

According to karmic theory, we as individuals are responsible for our actions. This responsibility carries over into subsequent lives where we receive compensation, good or evil, for the actions we have performed in previous lives. The psychological or internal effects of these past actions are that they produce certain tendencies and dispositions, which contribute toward the shaping and molding of our personalities. We have the choice of either following these tendencies or, through greater self-knowledge, self-discipline, and self-control, learning how to overcome some of our negative tendencies.

The theory of rebirth is a hypothesis that can explain things that we otherwise find quite difficult to understand. The prevalence of suffering and the injustices that exist in the world—such as innocent people suffering from mental and physical retardation or low social status—can be explained according to karmic theory, without having to appeal to some kind of theological

solution. Thus, the “problem of evil” is dealt with very differently in Buddhism and Hinduism than it is in Christianity. Particularly in Buddhism, it is not a theological problem but a moral problem.

The Buddha did not present the theory of rebirth in a dogmatic manner but as a moral wager. He made it clear in the Majhimma Nikaya Sutra that believing in rebirth would encourage us to lead a moral life by assuring us of a pleasant and fulfilling future life. However, even if rebirth does not exist, we have not lost anything by believing in it, because leading a moral life makes us into better human beings, endowing this life with meaning and significance.


MAHAYANA BUDDHISM

Helping Others Is Helping Oneself


NOW WE SHALL TURN to the later period of Buddhism, known as Mahayana. The Mahayana tradition has two aspects: the Sutra tradition of Mahayana and the Tantra tradition of Mahayana. Mahayana is usually distinguished from early Buddhism, or Hinayana, which literally means “small vehicle.” Mahayana is the “large vehicle.” The basic point here is that a follower of the Hinayana path has embarked upon a path with a very narrow vision or goal, insofar as that particular person wants to achieve enlightenment for himself or herself alone. That person is not regarded as someone worthy of following the Mahayana path.

When we look at it like that, we should realize that “Hinayana” does not necessarily refer to Theravada Buddhism, as some people assume. After Buddha’s demise, Buddhism divided into eighteen sects. One of these was Theravada Buddhism. The sect with which Mahayana was interacting most closely was known as Sarvastivada (“pluralism”), which believed in the ultimate existence of mental and physical entities. When such masters as Nagarjuna and Chandrakirti came on the scene, the school they criticized the most was the Sarvastivadin school. They did not attack Theravadins.

So when Mahayanists today criticize certain tenets of Hinayana, we should not assume that they are attacking Theravada Buddhism as it is practiced today in such countries as Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. This is a very important point to make, because the Theravadin tradition is the only one to have survived from the eighteen sects that sprang up following the demise of the Buddha.

Sometimes the word Shravakayana is used as a synonym for Hinayana. Shravakayana, or nyenthö kyi thekpa in Tibetan, means the “vehicle of the hearers.” Hinayana, therefore, does not refer to the allegiance of a practitioner to a particular school but is related to hearing the teachings and assimilating them on an intellectual level, without really practicing them. Nyen in Tibetan means “hear,” and thö means “having assimilated what one has heard on an intellectual level, but not practicing it.” So a Shravaka is a person of limited capacity who has not really assimilated the Buddha’s teachings.

This clarifies why the Mahayanists have said that people should aspire not to the Hinayana perspective but to the Mahayana, which is also equated with the Bodhisattvayana. A Mahayana follower is also known as a Bodhisattva, the term for someone who, unlike the Hinayana follower, wants to expand his or her vision of spiritual growth. Bodhisattvas do not simply limit themselves to wishing to help themselves; instead, they realize that by helping others, they are in actuality doing something for themselves. That is the ideal, then, of the Bodhisattvayana, or Mahayana.

We see, then, that Hinayana and Mahayana are not determined by doctrines, schools, or belief systems, but by the internal attitude held by practitioners in regard to their spiritual practice. Mahayana practitioners perceive their goal not simply as ridding themselves of suffering, but rather as ridding other beings of suffering. They work for the benefit of others in the understanding that to do something for others is also to do something for oneself.

To give a general outline of the Mahayana teachings, I will talk about the cause of suffering, the path or the method that we must use in order to relieve the cause of suffering, and the fruition that results from practicing the path. The goal of Mahayana Buddhism is no different from that of the early Buddhists. All want to achieve enlightenment. But the quality of the enlightenment, in a sense, is different, because of the motivation. Hinayanists are not necessarily aiming for full enlightenment, but rather for what is known as Arhathood, a state in which one has rid oneself of the emotional conflicts experienced due to anger, jealousy, dissatisfaction, and so forth. In this approach there is no compassion, sensitivity, or a caring attitude.

If we are to follow the Mahayana path, we need to develop an attitude of caring and compassion, because unless we care for others, our development cannot proceed. With that thought, the Mahayana practitioner tries to understand the cause of suffering, and also tries to understand how to rectify that situation. In terms of attitudes toward the cause of suffering, there is no real difference between the Hinayanist and

the Mahayanist. The causes of suffering are the two veils of conflicting emotions and conceptual confusion. Conflicting emotions include jealousy, anger, pride, ignorance, and excessive desire. Conceptual confusion relates to the mistaken notion that there is a self with an enduring essence. Hinayanists and Mahayanists both understand that suffering results from not having a proper understanding of oneself and one’s emotions.

According to the Mahayana tradition, there is a difference between Hinayana and Mahayana spiritual ideals and the means adopted to realize those ideals. As we said before, Hinayanists are solely concerned with their own well-being and want to achieve enlightenment for their own sake, and thus they do not have the same capacity as Mahayanists. This is not to say that the Hinayana practitioner never thinks of

compassion and love. These attitudes may be there, but not to the same extent as with the Mahayanists. Some Buddhist literature emphasizes the importance of self-realization above the practice of compassion toward others, and speaks of the practice of the four brahmaviharas, or divine abodes: loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity.

Mahayana Buddhism goes further by saying that, if one wants to achieve enlightenment, one needs to do it with a two-pronged approach. The two prongs are compassion and wisdom. One can develop wisdom through the practice of meditation, but one cannot develop compassion by simply meditating on compassion, as is suggested in the four brahmavihara practices. In Mahayana, we have practices such as lojong, literally “mental training” but usually rendered as “giving and taking.” This series of mental exercises is deployed to gradually break down our

rigid, entrenched egocentric thoughts, feelings, and perceptions. In lojong we seek to develop compassion by putting ourselves in the place of the deprived or disadvantaged person. But Mahayana says that being compassionate, being helpful, being concerned, and having an altruistic attitude are not sufficient in themselves. We have to engage ourselves with the world. The practice of meditation and the

observance of spiritual practices should be undertaken in everyday life, not just in the monastic environment. We have to actually live in the world. This attitude comes from what the Mahayanists say about samsara being identical with nirvana. What does this mean? It means that it is not the world that we have to renounce; it is not that we have to shun all social responsibilities in order to

develop spiritually. It is our attitude that is the most important thing. That is why they say that samsara is nirvana. Our delusions are the same as enlightenment, and the world we live in is conditioned by our mind.

Practitioners of Mahayana mainly emphasize the mind and the attitude that we have toward the world, toward other people, and toward ourselves. If we can have a proper attitude, then whatever we do will become wholesome. Instead of thinking that our actions are the most important thing and becoming dogmatic about what is right and what is wrong, with the right attitude we are able to interact with the world in a proper manner. This is the compassionate aspect of the path.

Wisdom, the other aspect of the path, comes from understanding that the self and others are not separate, because everything is interdependent: mind, matter, organic, inorganic—everything that exists in the world is interdependent, and therefore nothing has substantiality. This is taking the teachings of early Buddhism a little further. Early Buddhism says that everything is impermanent, but it does not say that nothing has enduring essence and that everything is interdependent.

Mahayana Buddhism elaborates by saying that everything is interdependent, nothing has self-existence or autonomous status; this is what is meant by emptiness (shunyata). Wisdom comes from this realization. If one has a very strong idea of a self-existing (svabhava)

notion of a self that is completely enclosed within one’s body and is divorced from the external world, then one can never be at home in the world. Mahayana Buddhism says that in fact we have already renounced the world as long as we have that belief, because then we are self-enclosed, isolated, and totally divorced from everything else. We perceive the external world as either hostile or something to be exploited and taken advantage of, owing to our desires and our anger.

So if we want to be at home in the world, we need to overcome this way of thinking, and in overcoming it, we attain enlightenment. In order to do that, we need to develop compassion and wisdom. Wisdom is developed through the understanding that the self and others, which we think

are totally opposed to each other, are in fact interdependent. The world and the self, the mind and the material world, subject and object, all are interdependent. Once we have that insight, it is easier to develop compassion.

Compassion and wisdom go hand in hand. The Mahayana teachings say that compassion and wisdom should be used like the two wings of a bird. If a bird has only one wing, it cannot fly. In a similar way, if we want to stay aloft, we need wisdom and compassion in the spiritual realm. (We will see later how to develop these two aspects.)

Mahayana Buddhism teaches us how to be in the world without self-deception, without aversion, and without shunning our responsibilities. By facing up to the reality of the situation and realizing that in cultivating wisdom and compassion we are developing ourselves, we see that there is no contradiction. Becoming more compassionate is doing something for ourselves, in actual fact. We do not have to become the doormat for everybody else, or have a self-effacing attitude, or become a “do-gooder.” If we act genuinely, with the understanding that can be developed through meditation and wisdom, our compassionate activities in relation to others can lead us to the goal.

That goal, from the Mahayana point of view, is to realize the physical aspect of Buddha’s being through the development of compassion, and to realize the mental aspect of Buddha’s being through the practice of wisdom. I mention this because these things are not talked about in the teachings of early Buddhism. In the Mahayana tradition we talk about three aspects of the Buddha’s being, which I will explain later. Here I’m just

linking them together by saying that this is the goal. To gain the physical aspect and the mental aspect of Buddha’s being means that even when one becomes enlightened, one does not enter into some kind of spirit world divorced from the physical nature of things. Rather, one’s own physical body is transformed, in a sense, due to the mental transformation. From the Mahayana perspective, mental transformation is the important concept, rather than mental purification. We aim not to purify the mind but to transform it, because even the mind is not a self-existing, unchangeable entity.

6

THE WAY OF THE BODHISATTVA


Meditation and Action Go Together


I HAVE SAID that according to Mahayana Buddhism our delusions lie in two different domains of the mind, one being the emotional aspect and the other being the conceptual aspect. These may also be described as the affective and cognitive aspects of the mind. In relation to the affective aspect of the mind, emotions such as craving, grasping, clinging, hostility, resentment, and bitterness arise. In relation to the cognitive aspect, all kinds of conceptual confusions arise, particularly in our

understanding of ourselves—what we think our self or ego is. So there is an interrelationship between the cognitive and emotional aspects of the mind. Generally this view contrasts with the Western understanding, in which it is said that to reason, to have rationality, we must control our emotions. Certain romantics have said that we should eschew rationality altogether because emotion is more valuable than reason. Therefore, those who value rationality often do not value emotions, and vice versa.

But from the Buddhist point of view, the problem of delusion does not emerge purely from one source: either our logical or conceptual abilities or our emotions and feelings. The problem emerges from both of these two sources, and we must have a proper understanding of that.

If that is the problem, then we must find the path by which we can reach the solution. That path has many aspects, but fundamentally it consists of wisdom and compassion. Compassion relates to the emotional aspect, and wisdom relates to the cognitive aspect. Through wisdom we are able to clarify our conceptual confusion and our cognitive distortions; and through compassion we are able to transform our negative emotions.

The ultimate aim of Mahayana Buddhism is not to eradicate emotions as such, but to transform our mind, in both its cognitive and its affective aspects. Finally the path leads to the fruition stage, which also has two aspects—surprisingly enough! Buddhism likes numbers, it seems, and everything is categorized; everything comes in either twos or threes or fives, or some other

number. When we simplify the fruition stages of the path, we identify two aspects: the mental aspect of Buddha’s being and the physical aspect of Buddha’s being. Through the practice of compassion on the path, we are led to the realization of the physical aspect of Buddha’s being. Through cultivation of wisdom, we realize the mental or cognitive aspect of Buddha’s being. I have already said that, but I want to recapitulate it here.

WHAT IS A BODHISATTVA?


The person who follows the Mahayana path is called a Bodhisattva. The concept of Bodhisattva is found even in early Buddhist literature. For example, in the Jataka tales about the Buddha’s previous lives before he became awakened, he was referred to in Sanskrit as a Bodhisattva. In Pali literature, the word is bodhisatta, and in Tibetan changchup kyi sempa. The concept of

Bodhisattva is therefore not exclusively a Mahayanist idea or invention. As used in early Buddhism, the word referred to someone who had embarked on the spiritual path and who was progressing toward enlightenment. In Mahayana Buddhism also, the Bodhisattva is not equated with

full enlightenment or Buddhahood. The difference is that instead of thinking of Bodhisattvas as being special people with special attributes and abilities, the Mahayanists said that anyone and everyone can become a Bodhisattva. That is why the notion of Bodhisattva became such an important part of Mahayana Buddhism.

The most important characteristic of the Bodhisattva is the element of compassion. Even though compassion was spoken of in relation to the Bodhisattva in early Buddhism, it was Mahayana Buddhism that emphasized this aspect of the Bodhisattva. According to the Mahayanists, enlightenment is not achieved individually by our own effort in a personal kind of way; rather it is achieved in relation to and in interaction with others. Therefore, the element of compassion is emphasized.

So according to Mahayana understanding, when we are being selfish, when we have an acquisitive mentality of wanting more and more—whether it is material goods, fame, love, or whatever—we lose touch with others, we lose touch with the real world. Instead we are living in a world that has been totally created by our own desires, expectations, and frustrations, which does not correspond with the world that is really there.

That is why Mahayana Buddhism talks about overcoming the duality of subject and object, the duality of the mind and the material world. When we develop wisdom, we realize that both subject and object, the mind and the material world, have the same nature. Then, instead of viewing the world as hostile or alien, we see that the world and ourselves are interdependent. And there lies the possibility of developing compassion.

Formal meditation is a solitary journey in which we grapple with our own inner demons and attempt to come to terms with and develop understanding of our own varied psychic forces and states, and this may then lead to the development of wisdom. In order for a spiritual practice to be complete, it must be complemented by compassionate activities in interpersonal situations. In Mahayana Buddhism

meditation and activity go hand in hand, in that we cannot really have genuine compassion without wisdom. It is only through developing proper wisdom that we will be able to have compassion and do things for others in a way that is not partial. It does not take very much for us to be compassionate in a partial way. For instance, we can easily feel compassionate toward people whom we like or animals that we cherish. But ideally, from the Mahayana Buddhist point of view, we should aim higher; our compassion should extend even beyond our own dear ones, and that can only be done through wisdom.

If wisdom is not present in compassion, compassion can become degenerated and polluted, owing to our selfishness, sentimentality, or need. I have met people who have a need to be compassionate, instead of just being compassionate. Compassionate activities should be more like a way of being than a way of doing. Sometimes there are set agendas that accompany the whole idea of performing compassionate acts, so that the most seemingly compassionate people can sometimes also be the most dogmatic. But to be truly compassionate means that we are able to relate

with compassion toward a wide variety of people; we don’t separate people into good and bad categories, whereby these people on our side are good and need our support, while those on the other side are evil people who are upsetting everything, and therefore we should oppose them. Social activists often run the risk of falling into this attitude. Not that everybody is like that, but sometimes people hold peaceful demonstrations that result in violence.

According to Mahayana Buddhism, when a Bodhisattva meets people who do not share his or her ideas, people who think differently or do things differently, he or she would still try to have an open-minded approach and to communicate in the best way possible to help those beings who may even be hostile. It’s important to reiterate that compassion in Buddhism is not something passive. As I pointed out earlier,

Westerners regard emotions as being closely related to feelings that we can’t help having—just as we can’t help it if we have a toothache. Buddhists say that this is not the case with emotions. An emotion like compassion is something active that we can choose to experience and

put into action. The fact that we can choose to develop and exercise compassion is significant. As Rollo May states in his book Love and Will, if an individual feels powerless to make such choices, it is very difficult for him or her to love and have compassion. The only way to overcome that sense of powerlessness is to learn how to love and how to generate compassion. Buddhists would agree with that.

Compassion should not have anything to do with suffering with and for another, but should instead arise from the intention to alleviate another’s suffering. Mahayana literature defines love or loving-kindness as the wish that others may have happiness and the causes of

happiness; compassion is defined as the wish that others may be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. Those are very general definitions, but they show that this is an active form of doing something, rather than allowing ourselves to become immersed in other people’s misfortune or despair. If we identify too much with others’ suffering, our own ability to help those others becomes diminished. Psychotherapists

have also made this point: therapists who overidentify with the problems of their clients may find that their ability to help the clients is reduced. This is precisely because the therapist is totally absorbed in the whole dynamic of the situation.


TWO KINDS OF BODHISATTVA


There are two different kinds of Bodhisattva: the ideal Bodhisattva and the Bodhisattva who aspires to achieve enlightenment. “Ideal Bodhisattvas” are part of the Buddhist pantheon. In Mahayana, unlike in early Buddhism, we have many different images of realized beings, both mythological and real. The mythological Bodhisattvas in particular are seen as models who embody certain qualities of the

Bodhisattva. So we talk about Bodhisattvas such as Avalokiteshvara (called Chenrezik in Tibetan), Manjushri, and Vajrapani. A Bodhisattva such as Avalokiteshvara embodies compassion and is used as an example of how one can develop compassion. It is not that we must believe in Avalokiteshvara as a real being; rather we use the image of Avalokiteshvara to think about how we might develop this ideal of

compassion in ourselves. Similarly, Manjushri embodies wisdom. Through visualizing Manjushri and doing practices related to Manjushri, we can try to emulate the qualities that Manjushri possesses. Vajrapani embodies the quality of will, so his image can be used as an antidote against apathy, to increase our ability to follow this path. The Bodhisattva of Achala (whose name means

“nonmoving”) is the embodiment of samadhi, or the meditative state. By visualizing all of these Bodhisattvas and by emulating them, we are using them as antidotes to our habitual tendencies. In this way, Manjushri becomes the antidote to ignorance, Avalokiteshvara to selfishness, Vajrapani to apathy, and Achala to the distracted or agitated mind. These are the ideal Bodhisattvas.

The other type of Bodhisattva corresponds to the idea that everyone has the ability to become enlightened, to become a Bodhisattva. These two kinds of Bodhisattva should be distinguished, because it can be especially confusing for newcomers who are told that there are these Bodhisattvas who are supposed to be realized, and then one is also told to emulate the Bodhisattva behavior and become a Bodhisattva

oneself. The Bodhisattvas who are ideal images already embody all the qualities of the Bodhisattva, or at least some of them. But those who belong to the second type of Bodhisattva need to cultivate the qualities they do not have. Within this second group there are two kinds: those who have already embarked upon the Bodhisattva path, and others who are potential Bodhisattvas, so that if the right circumstances arise they may actually become Bodhisattvas.


BECOMING A BODHISATTVA


So how does one become a Bodhisattva? There is just one necessary and sufficient condition, which is to generate bodhichitta, or the “heart of enlightenment.” Bodhi means “enlightenment,” and chitta means “heart.”

Bodhichitta also has two aspects, one being the relative aspect and the other being the ultimate aspect. Ultimate bodhichitta refers to the nature of the mind itself, or what we call Buddha-nature. (We’ll come to a discussion of that later.) Relative bodhichitta is the cultivation and generation of compassion. In order to develop this, it is not sufficient to just think, “From

now on, I will try to do my best to generate compassion and overcome my egocentricity, because it is not only beneficial for others but is also beneficial for myself.” We have to make a formal commitment, which is called the taking of the Bodhisattva vow. As we know, living with somebody for many years in a de facto relationship is different from signing on the dotted line. Somehow that makes a difference; I suppose it is because when we make a formal

commitment in public rather than simply saying something to ourselves mentally, there is an aspect of promise about it. And when we promise something, there may be more of a chance that we will follow through. So bodhichitta is aroused by making a formal commitment.

After making such a commitment, the Mahayana teachings say, the Bodhisattva should not be in a hurry to attain enlightenment. We have the ability to actually postpone our own enlightenment as long as necessary, because as Bodhisattvas we feel that it is better for others to achieve enlightenment before we do ourselves. We have no sense of urgency and can say, “I will work for the benefit of others; I want others to attain enlightenment before I do.”

In some of the books on Buddhism written by Western scholars and practitioners, there is a problem with this idea. For example, Peter Harvey, the author of An Introduction to Buddhism, questions: if a Bodhisattva is not the same as a Buddha, how is it possible for such a person to lead others to a state of enlightenment, even if he or she has the desire to do so? The Bodhisattva may be deluded in thinking

that he or she has the ability to do so, but to be able to lead others to enlightenment entails the possession of certain abilities. Paul Williams’s book Mahayana Buddhism poses a different question: is it not problematic to talk about the postponement of enlightenment? For then it raises the possibility that it might be better not to embark upon the Bodhisattva path, if by embarking upon it others will attain enlightenment while you, as the Bodhisattva, still remain in the samsaric condition.

The point is not to take all these statements so literally but to understand them in relation to attitude. By developing the infinite compassion that a Bodhisattva is able to develop, one brings enlightenment closer, whereas without that kind of compassion, enlightenment is far off. Even if one desperately wants to become enlightened, one is unable to do so.

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche gave a very graphic image of this. He said that embarking on the Bodhisattva path in a proper way is like being in a vehicle that is preprogrammed to take you to your destination even if you don’t want to go there. I think it is like that. If you have the [[right

attitude]], then you attain enlightenment in spite of yourself. That really is the Mahayana attitude as it is transmitted orally. But if you become fixated on the texts in which it is not explic-itly stated that this is how one approaches the Bodhisattva path, you may take the whole thing too literally.

Shantideva says in the first chapter of the Bodhisattvacharyavatara: “May I become a shelter for the homeless; may I become food for the hungry; may I become a bridge for those who want to cross the turbulent waters.” Obviously Shantideva is not wishing to be a magician so that he can literally become these things.

Having said that, I should add that what this really means is that doing compassionate activities for others should go beyond physical activities, such as feeding the hungry. Of course, wherever possible, we should try to do those things. But wherever it is impossible to actually do this, we should not think, “A mere mental attitude will not alleviate others’ suffering if I haven’t got the physical means to do so. My effort

will have no effect, so it’s a waste of time.” We should not give up the practice. Wishing that the Ethiopians, for example, were relieved of their suffering could have an enormously beneficial effect, even though physically nothing has changed for the Ethiopians. It is the attitude that

really is the most important thing. If we have the right attitude, arising from wisdom, whatever action we initiate out of compassion will be effective and will be in keeping with the situation. But if we lack such an open and wide vision, even if we are very concerned with social welfare and justice, our attitude may still be tinged or polluted with our own delusions or obscurations of mind.


REALIZING WISDOM AND COMPASSION

Bodhichitta and the Paramitas


WE HAVE SEEN that the concept of the Bodhisattva in Mahayana Buddhism is of the ideal image of a spiritual practitioner, which all followers should try to emulate. Now let us look in more detail at how the Bodhisattva way of life is accomplished.

In chapter 6, I briefly mentioned generating bodhichitta, or enlightened heart. Bodhichitta has two aspects: the absolute aspect refers to the nature of the mind already inherent in all living beings, and the relative aspect refers to compassion. The first of these, the

absolute aspect, is related more to wisdom, while the relative aspect is related more to compassion. If we want to obtain enlightenment by becoming a Bodhisattva, it is necessary to actualize wisdom and compassion. This is done by the practice of what are called the six paramitas, or “transcendental actions.”

Para in Sanskrit literally means the “other shore.” Here it means going beyond our own notion of the self. From the Buddhist point of view in general, and from the Mahayana point of view in particular, if we want to progress properly on the path, we need to go beyond our conventional understanding of the self. So when we say that paramita means “transcendental action,” we mean

it in the sense that actions or attitudes are performed in a non-egocentric manner. “Transcendental” does not refer to some external reality, but rather to the way in which we conduct our lives and perceive the world—either in an egocentric or a non-egocentric way. The six paramitas are concerned with the effort to step out of the egocentric mentality. In this chapter I shall discuss the first four

paramitas (generosity, moral precepts, patience, and vigor), which are all concerned with our physical actions and are related to the moral domain. The practice of the last two paramitas (meditation and wisdom) is concerned with the mind, and these paramitas are the subject of chapter 8.


GENEROSITY (Dana)


The first paramita is dana in Sanskrit, which means “generosity.” The Bodhisattva-bhumi, a very important Mahayana text, defines it as “an unattached and spontaneous mind, and the dispensing of gifts and requisites in that state of mind.” The essence of generosity is giving without any attachment or expectations, without thought of receiving something in return. It is doing something purely for its own sake, with no strings attached.

In the Mahayana tradition, generosity has three aspects. The first is practicing generosity on the material level. This means that we are able to extend ourselves and not hesitate to help people in need, and that we don’t become so attached to our possessions that we cannot share them. This type of generosity works on the physical level by relieving people’s physical pain and deprivation.

The second aspect is practicing generosity by giving protection, by protecting people’s lives. This means that if others are in danger, we do not hesitate to help them; we do not hold back. If a person is caught in a burning house, we must act to save that person. If we suspect that the child next door is being abused, we don’t think that the child isn’t ours and therefore we have no responsibility; we act to protect the child.

The point, at least for Bodhisattvas, is that we should do whatever it takes in any given moment to save a life. This extends even further, because it is not only human life that needs to be saved but the lives of all sentient beings. So if a modern Bodhisattva here in Australia, where I live, is driving along the road and accidentally hits a kangaroo, he or she doesn’t just “shoot through,” as they say, but stops to do something to save that animal’s life. Giving protection is called the generosity of fearlessness.

The third type of generosity is that of giving spiritual teachings and advice. In the Mahayana literature it is clearly stated that there are three aspects to this: the first is the object of generosity, the person to whom we might direct such teachings. This person needs to be interested in receiving teachings or advice. If someone is not interested, then no matter how much we talk, no matter how much we

want to give advice, nothing will be achieved. So we don’t go around saying, “Avon calling!” People may say, “Go away, I don’t want to listen to you!” Why then should we persist? But if a person is open-minded, then the situation is workable. So the object or person to whom the teachings are directed should be kept in mind.

The second aspect is the intention. When we want to impart teachings or give advice, we must do it with a pure intention, not sullied by thinking that we are better or know more than the person we are trying to help. The teacher’s motivation should be pure and free from delusions.

The third aspect is the way of imparting the Dharma. In the Bodhisattva-bhumi, Asanga says: “To make a gift of the Dharma means to explain it logically and not in a perverted way, and to make the disciple hold firmly to the principle of training therein.” We should give spiritual advice to others in a coherent manner, logically and eloquently, and in a way that does not give rise to strong emotional reactions, as these would only increase the delusions already present in the people receiving teachings.


MORAL PRECEPTS (Shila)


The second paramita is called shila (Tibetan, tsültrim), or ethics. A better translation would be “moral precepts,” because all the paramitas are involved with ethics or morality, not just shila. The distinctive feature of shila paramita is that it is involved with the taking of certain precepts. In the Mahayana tradition, it is said that without precepts we are like a person without feet—we cannot get a foothold, we cannot stand upon the ground. As a Mahayana sutra says: “Just as you cannot walk without feet, so also can you not become liberated if you lack ethics or moral precepts.” In Tibetan, tsültrim is always referred to as tsültrim che kangpa, which means “foot of moral precepts.” So shila is seen as the foundation, that which grounds us in spiritual practice or connects us to the earth.

The paramita of moral precepts has three aspects. The first is related to restraint, as in the precepts against killing and lying. It is important not to yield to such impulses and act on them; we must exercise some form of restraint.

The second aspect of the precepts is “gathering of wholesomeness,” which means that it’s not sufficient simply to restrain oneself from negative forms of actions; having exercised restraint, one must then engage in positive deeds. For this reason one is counseled to engage in wholesome mental attitudes such as contemplation on love, compassion, and affection, and try not to get engrossed in [[negative

emotions]] such as bitterness, resentment, hostility, and hatred. The term in Tibetan is gewa chödü; gewa means “wholesome” and chödü means “gathering.” So we gather all that is wholesome and positive within ourselves.

The third aspect of the precepts is acting to benefit others, not just ourselves. What distinguishes the Mahayana idea of precepts is this emphasis on benefiting others. In the Mahayana tradition, however, the precepts are not to be followed blindly; they have nothing to do with rules and regulations. It is a Mahayana idea that there is no such thing as absolute moral principles. Precepts should be followed skillfully rather than blindly, which is connected with the Mahayana idea of upaya, “skillful means.”

Moral precepts should also not be followed out of fear of punishment or hope of reward. This is made very clear in another sutra: “Moral precepts are not to be observed for the sake of kingship, the bliss of heaven, or the position of Indra, Brahma, or Ishvara [that is, to attain the powers of gods]; nor for the enjoyment of wealth, nor the world of forms and other

experiences. They are not to be observed out of the fear of hell, of rebirth among animals or the world of Yama. On the contrary, ethics or moral precepts are to be observed in order to become like Buddhas and to bring happiness or profit to all beings.” Mahayana Buddhists would say that following moral precepts for reward or out of fear may, in fact, turn out to be an immoral act.


PATIENCE (Kshanti)


The next paramita is patience (kshanti), which is seen as the antidote to anger, frustration, resentment, hostility, and the like. An impatient mind becomes a victim of these emotions. As Shantideva says in the Boddhisattvacharyavatara: “When one adopts an attitude tinged with the sting of malevolence, the mind does not experience peace. Since one does not find joy and happiness, one becomes

sleepless and restless.” If there is hatred in the mind so that it is dominated by feelings of resentment and anger, then it becomes restless and, as Shantideva says, we cannot even sleep properly. Shantideva goes on to say: “In brief, there is no such thing as anger in happiness; so when we feel happy, there is no anger. Anger and happiness cannot coexist.”

If we are to overcome suffering—which is the ultimate aim of Buddhism—we must overcome negative tendencies in the mind, because positive states of mind such as peace and happiness cannot coexist with negative tendencies. Therefore, it is important to develop patience. It is not enough just to recognize the harmful effects these negative tendencies have on our lives. We need to actively practice patience to overcome them.

Shantideva also says: “There is no such thing as anger in happiness; a person’s friends tire of him, and even though he entices them by generosity, they do not stay.” For as long as we do not change our ways, we may try to bribe people with gifts to show our affection, but they won’t be duped and will cease to be our friends. So anger has all kinds of negative consequences, not only in relation to our spiritual practice but also in our life generally.

The practice of patience has three aspects. The first concerns coping with harmful people; the second, working with difficult situations; the third, investigating the whole of reality. First, the Bodhisattva has to learn how to cope with people who have very difficult personalities, who are aggressive, annoying, and upsetting. According to many Mahayana teachings, the best way to do this is to realize that, if someone is completely overpowered by anger, we should think of that person as being like someone who is mentally unstable or under the influence of alcohol and therefore not fully in control. If we act in the same way this other person does, we cannot solve anything. So we need to review the situation properly and act sensibly.

The second aspect relates to working with difficult situations. Even when we are confronted with these, we should not yield to despair or frustration. We need to realize that life is not easy, that difficulty is part of life; we should not think that everything will go smoothly or fall into our laps just like that, without our making any effort. When difficulties arise, we should try to exercise patience and tolerance, keep our mind lucid, and not be influenced by despair and hopelessness.

The third aspect is called “investigating the whole of reality,” which will be discussed later as part of the paramita of wisdom. What this means, in brief, is that the Bodhisattva should have the understanding that everything takes place because of causes and conditions. Difficulties that we experience are not permanent, because everything depends upon causes and conditions and is transient. Therefore, we need not become so fixated on or obsessed by the problems we experience at any given moment.


VIGOR (Virya)


The next paramita is called virya, often translated as “effort”; but I think “vigor” is better, because “effort” makes it sound like plain hard work! But if we have vigor, we do not need to make any effort. For example, we may have to make an effort to put the garbage out, whereas a person with vigor would do this effortlessly. With vigor we do not flinch or get bogged down or dragged down; we don’t run out of energy.

One Mahayana sutra says: “Unsurpassable perfect enlightenment is not difficult for those who make the effort, because where there is effort, there is enlightenment.” Even to gain enlightenment, if there is vigor, it is not so difficult. If there a sense of vigor, enthusiasm,

and energy, things are not that difficult. Another sutra says: “Enlightenment is easy for the hard-working.” What these quotations make clear is that, if we put our mind to it, we will achieve results. If Bodhisattvas put their mind to achieving enlightenment, that goal is not so far away, and this is true for all of us.

The paramita of vigor acts as an antidote to laziness. In the teachings there are three types of laziness: the first is laziness resulting from inactivity or lack of interest, thinking that you can’t be bothered. You may ask, “What’s the point? Why do anything?” So you remain in bed for three days in a row, dirty dishes pile up, and so on. The second kind of laziness comes from lack of confidence, from thinking, “How could a

person like me achieve anything? Even if I tried, it wouldn’t work.” Failure is anticipated even before it has happened. With this attitude we preempt any kind of success we might have. The last kind of laziness has to do with overactivity, always being busy, doing this and that, working at three different jobs. When you have nothing to do, you make a telephone call or you visit somebody, out of a constant restlessness that prevents anything from being accomplished. We need to practice the paramita of vigor in order to overcome our tendency toward these kinds of laziness.

There are three different types of vigor as well. The first is called “armorlike vigor.” This means that we consciously make the decision that, until we attain our goal, we will not allow ourselves to be sidetracked. This decision is made with fortitude, so there is no distraction.

The second is the “vigor of applied work,” and this relates to our physical aspect. Having made such a commitment, we need to engage in upaya, or skillful means. When interacting with others, a Bodhisattva has to be very skillful; certain negative tendencies can have a narrowing effect, while positive tendencies have an opening-up effect. Some behavioral attributes may appear to be so similar that initially we

cannot differentiate them clearly. But with practice a Bodhisattva is able to discern the differences. For example, arrogance and self-confidence may appear similar, but they are actually quite different. Arrogance narrows one’s vision, whereas self-confidence can be uplifting and expansive.

Aggression may be seen as self-assertiveness and attachment as affection; indifference may be confused with being dispassionate and self-indulgence mistaken for self-reflection. Gradually, through interaction with others and the practice of the paramitas, Bodhisattvas come to understand what is skillful and beneficial in dealing with others.

The last aspect of vigor or effort is “discontentedness.” Buddhism frequently speaks of overcoming dissatisfaction and discontentment, as if these experiences are always undesirable. In certain respects, however, discontentment is necessary. No matter what we have achieved in the past about which we may justifiably feel proud, we should not be satisfied with that but should look to develop and improve ourselves further.

This is an ongoing process. We should have the enthusiasm to want to go further and further in relating to others and developing ourselves on a spiritual and psychological level. Our normal experiences of dissatisfaction, incompleteness, deprivation, privation, or sense of lack can and must be sublimated into spiritual ones. We should never be satisfied with our spiritual progress, thinking, “This will do,” or “That is enough.” We should always have hunger for deeper, higher, richer experiences on the path.


THE LINK BETWEEN WISDOM AND COMPASSION

The Paramita of Meditation and the Nine Stages of Shamatha


THE MAHAYANA IDEA of the six paramitas is not so different from the Eightfold Noble Path of early Buddhism. Both practices emphasize cultivating compassion and wisdom, achieved through the three trainings of shila, samadhi, and prajna—morality, meditation, and wisdom. Through developing our morality we can arouse compassion, and through meditation we are able to cultivate insight or wisdom.

If a practitioner engages in meditation and develops wisdom but is unable to develop compassion, a problem arises. Through wisdom we may be able to understand the nature of the self and to have a certain understanding of reality, but without compassion we are unable to be in the world and interact with other living beings. Similarly, compassion without wisdom may enable us to interact with other living beings, but our lack of wisdom causes that interaction to become polluted with defilements, delusions, and illusions.

The paramita of meditation is the link between wisdom and compassion. To practice the first four paramitas in a non-egocentric manner is very difficult without the practice of meditation. It is also true that, without the practice of meditation, it is nearly impossible to develop wisdom. So meditation is the key to self-development and making advancement on the spiritual path.

In the West, what meditation means and the reasons for practicing it are understood in many different ways. Meditation has become quite popular. Many people, particularly in the health professions, now recognize its benefits. Some people think that meditation will help them live longer, prolong their youth, lose weight, stop smoking, and so on. Meditation may do all those things, but in the Eastern traditions,

such as Buddhism and Hinduism, it has a more profound meaning. Meditation is not practiced for a specific reason such as reducing stress, increasing concentration while playing sports, or dealing with anxiety. It has to be put in the overall context of how we view our lives and how we perceive the world; this can only be provided by a certain kind of philosophical or religious perspective.

Many people are frightened by the notion of religion and say, “I want to learn how to practice meditation, but please spare me the Eastern mumbo-jumbo. I am quite willing to do the breathing exercises or whatever else you tell me to do.” In the Eastern tradition, the practice of meditation relates to transforming ourselves in a fundamental way, not simply changing one aspect of our self. By transforming ourselves we are able to deal with whatever happens in our lives in an appropriate and a meaningful way.

Meditation is samadhi or dhyana in Sanskrit, and samten in Tibetan. In Chinese it has been translated as ch’an, and in Japan it is more commonly known as zen, which is a corruption of the Chinese term. Samten in Tibetan basically means “stable

mind.” Sam can mean either “mind” or “thinking,” and ten means “stable.” The mind that does not easily become distracted, that can remain focused and concentrated, is in meditation. In the West meditation can refer to thinking or pondering on a problem, but in Eastern traditions it refers to the undistracted mind, which is able to focus on the object of meditation.

We saw in chapter 3 that there are two different types of meditation in Buddhism. The meditation of tranquillity, or shamatha in Sanskrit, is called shi-ne in Tibetan, which means “dwelling in peace.” Insight meditation, or vipashyana in Sanskrit, is lhakthong in Tibetan, meaning “superior seeing.”

We start with the shamatha aspect, or meditation of tranquillity, because without tranquillity, insight cannot be developed. Sometimes insight meditation is also translated as “analytical meditation,” which may suggest it has something in common with what we normally mean by

meditating on a particular problem. But although it does involve the use of thoughts and concepts, these are considered in the light of how such thoughts and concepts arise in the mind.

In tranquillity meditation we do not concern ourselves with thought and concepts. This is not to say that we should reject or suppress them. We should take note of them as they arise, realizing that they are present, and then try to let go of them. We do not use thought in tranquillity meditation as we do in insight meditation. We need to understand from the beginning which attitudes hinder or help our progress in tranquillity meditation.


PRINCIPLES OF PRACTICE


Shamatha meditation itself has no single practice; instead there is quite a diversity of approaches. According to the Buddhist traditions generally, as part of creating the proper condition for tranquillity to arise, it is important for the meditator to restrain the senses, fondness for food, and anything else that has the potential to disturb or befuddle the mind. While maintaining this kind of composure, the

meditator should settle himself or herself comfortably by adopting what is called “Vairochana nine-point posture.” This is recommended as the most beneficial meditation posture. It is a cross-legged position, with hands resting one on the other in the lap or resting on the knees, shoulders slightly stretched, head slightly inclined forward, spine absolutely straight like an arrow, gaze directed downward and concentrating on the tip of the

nose, mouth slightly open, the tip of the tongue touching the roof of the mouth, and the breathing even and relaxed. The implication is that one should resist and desist from introducing modifications to the posture. This may be an important point, in view of

the fact that so many Westerners have started to adapt meditation postures to suit their own preferences. Perhaps in this case an individual’s own preferences should not be given consideration (unless, of course, there is a debilitating physical constraint of some kind).

Having adopted the posture of Vairochana, the meditator then should focus his or her mind on the breath. It does not have to be the breath; we could use other objects of concentration, such as an image of the Buddha. However, the use of the breath for this purpose is seen by all Buddhists, regardless of tradition, as the most practical and most effective option. One should breathe naturally, without

effort, and avoid breathing either loudly, with undue stress and strain, or in a very shallow manner. If the meditator persists with shamatha by learning to coordinate the breath, his or her mind will gradually become more tranquil and settled.

In the course of shamatha meditation, the meditator needs to become familiar with the use of what are known as the antidotes. These antidotes are used to counteract certain known obstacles to meditation. So at this point the meditator has to know what these obstacles are, and what the anitidotes to them are as well. When should we resort to the antidotes, and when should we desist from using them? Knowing when to use the antidotes is as important as knowing when not to use them.


OBSTACLES TO MEDITATION


There are five obstacles or faults, eight antidotes, and nine stages that apply to tranquillity meditation. (The five obstacles of Mahayana are different from the five hindrances that we discussed in chapter 3 in relation to early Buddhism.) The first fault is laziness; the second, forgetfulness; the third, drowsiness and mental agitation; the fourth, nonapplication; and the fifth, overapplication. Of the eight antidotes, four of them are for the obstacle of laziness: conviction, inclination, exertion or vigor,

and pliancy of body and mind. To deal with the second obstacle, forgetfulness, we use the antidote of mindfulness. The third obstacle, drowsiness and agitation (these are counted as one), has the antidote of awareness. The fourth obstacle is nonapplication, for which the antidote is obviously application. The fifth obstacle is overapplication; in order to counteract that, we resort to the antidote of equanimity.

The Madhyanta-vibhanga says: “All aims may be realized by settling in tranquillity and making the mind pliant through abandoning the five faults by employing the eight antidotes. Settling the mind in tranquillity is the cause, tranquillity is the effect. Remembering the benefit of tranquillity, detecting laziness and agitation, abandoning faults or obstacles, applying antidotes, reaching intrinsic

tranquillity—these are the eight antidotes.” This text uses slightly different terms to express the importance of being able to deal with these five obstacles by the application of the eight antidotes. Meditators who have not developed the ability to detect the obstacles, or who have detected the obstacles but have not been able to use the antidotes, are robbed of the experience of tranquillity.


Laziness


There are three types of laziness, the first obstacle. The first gives rise to self-defeating attitudes, such as thinking that we do not have the ability to improve ourselves through our own effort. We think the obstacles are so overwhelming that it is impossible to make any progress on our own. The second type of laziness is that which arises from habitual patterns. Even if we have the desire to meditate and realize that it is

very useful, because we are used to a certain way of life, or because of the company that we keep or the kinds of internal propensities that may be present, we may not be able to overcome these obstacles. The third obstacle is the lack of interest. We think, “What is the point of

meditating? It is not really going to change things very much, and afterwards I will still be the same.” In this way of thinking, meditation may be perceived as a waste of time.

In order to overcome these three types of laziness, we apply four different antidotes. The first is conviction, which means we reflect on our situation and think about the benefits of meditation. We look at the continuing harm we could create by not meditating and realize how much suffering is generated through lack of mindfulness and awareness. For example, we could look at how, in a moment of anger, we reacted to people or situations in a way that we later regretted, wishing that we could have stopped ourselves.

In Buddhism we talk about three gates through which we create karmic effects: body, speech, and mind. We can realize how much harm has been created due to lack of mindfulness, whether physical, verbal, or mental. If mindfulness and awareness had been

present, we might not have had to regret the destructive things we have done, said, and thought. Many psychologists now call extreme anger, hostility, and jealousy “toxic emotions.” In Tibetan Buddhism such emotions are called poisons, so the meaning is similar.

People today can get very confused about emotions, because we are sometimes told that it is good to assert ourselves and “be somebody.” On the other hand, when we act in an aggressive manner, we may be chastised and put down for it. The same can be said of jealousy. In some situations, if we do not show jealousy, our partners may accuse us of not loving them enough. But in another situation, a display of jealousy may elicit accusations of

possessiveness. All of these emotions can have a toxic effect, and it is important to realize how we can control them through the practice of meditation, by becoming focused and attentive. So we need to develop conviction, the first antidote. Conviction can arise only if we are convinced of the benefits of meditation and of the harm that conflicting emotions cause in a distracted, confused mind.

Once conviction has been developed, we must follow that up with the cultivation of what is called inclination. If we have real conviction that meditation works and that we must maintain it as part of our practice, then the inclination to want to practice arises more naturally than if we lacked conviction and approached meditation in a half-hearted manner. When inclination is present, the third antidote for laziness—vigor—can be applied.

When there is conviction and inclination, it is not difficult for us to be enthusiastic about the practice of meditation, and a sense of vigor easily arises as a result of developing inclination.

This whole process leads to the final antidote, which is pliancy of body and mind. When we do not meditate, the mind and body can become rigid. The posture and facial expression are rigid, the muscles are taut and tense, and the mind is consequently also very rigid and

inflexible. Through the practice of meditation and applying the antidotes, the body and mind will become flexible. This is conducive to developing a tranquil state of mind.


Forgetfulness


The second obstacle or fault is forgetfulness, the antidote for which is mindfulness. This is first developed through focusing the mind on an external object. Meditators are commonly advised to use a small object, such as a pebble or a piece of wood, and attention is anchored to that object. After a period of time, the focus of attention can be switched to the breath. At the beginning this can be done by counting the breath

—counting up to five, fifty, or whatever—then going back and starting all over again, repeating that again and again. Eventually the mental processes of thoughts and emotions that arise in the mind can be used as objects of meditation. In all these cases, the most important thing is not to forget to return to the object of meditation when we realize that we have become distracted or have lost attention. As soon as we have that

realization, we should try to make an effort to return to the object of meditation. Of course, we can practice mindfulness in everyday life as well—while driving, washing the dishes, taking the dog for a walk. If we are able to focus our minds on whatever we are doing, that is seen as part of the practice of meditation.


Drowsiness and Agitation


The third obstacle or fault is drowsiness or dullness and agitation, and these two are counted as one. To counteract these two tendencies, we apply awareness. As we begin to develop and cultivate mindfulness regarding external objects, by focusing our minds on the breath, on our mental processes, and so on, it becomes possible to practice awareness. Without mindfulness it is almost impossible to be

aware of these two fundamental obstacles to meditation, dullness or drowsiness and mental agitation. Even if no particularly disturbing thoughts are arising in the mind, or no strong, violent emotions are present, and there is a semblance of

calmness, nevertheless there is no real sense of clarity. The mind is dull, which can lead to a feeling of drowsiness or stupor. This is harder to detect than mental agitation, the incessant inner chatter and dialogue and the upsurge of emotions that can disrupt our meditative state. Awareness should be applied to detect whether dullness or mental agitation is present.


Nonapplication and Overapplication


The fourth obstacle is nonapplication, which means being unable to apply the antidotes: four in relation to laziness, one in relation to forgetfulness, and one in relation to dullness and agitation. We need to exert ourselves in making use of these antidotes wherever they are appropriate.

The fifth obstacle is overapplication. After having practiced for a certain period of time, we may find that, even when it is unnecessary, out of habit we still use the antidotes rather than letting the mind be in a natural state of tranquillity. Therefore, the antidote of equanimity should be used here.


This is how the eight antidotes relate to the five faults or obstacles. Obviously the practice of meditation is a very long, arduous process; it may not always be very pleasant and does not necessarily lead to an enduring experience of bliss. As Saraha, the famous Indian mahasiddha (tantric yogin), has said: “When I apply great effort and hold on tight to the object, I become agitated; when I use less effort,

I am overcome by dullness. It is very difficult to balance these two tendencies. When I engage in meditation, my mind becomes disturbed.” So it is always a question of trying to strike a balance when applying the antidotes. Meditation is about learning how to apply the antidotes when necessary and not applying them too much or when they are not really necessary. This is something we have to find out on our own.

THE NINE STAGES OF SHAMATHA


The five obstacles and eight antidotes are related to the nine stages of shamatha. The first stage is called “resting the mind.” In the beginning, we are constantly grappling with obstacles on the one hand and the use of antidotes on the other. Gradually we may be able to rest the mind for a short period of time, before obstacles arise and disrupt that meditative state. Owing to lack of experience, we may not be able to

use the antidotes effectively and may therefore find it very difficult to actually return to the object of meditation. Fantasies, emotions, and thoughts may overwhelm us, making it very difficult. But through consistent effort, we will arrive at the next stage, which is called “continuous resting.”

At this stage we develop a greater ability to apply mindfulness and awareness, so that when the obstacles arise, we can return to the object of meditation rather than becoming overwhelmed by them. In both the first and second stages, laziness is the predominant obstacle, characterized by a lack of interest, a lack of inclination toward meditation, or a lack of conviction about the benefits of meditation. Meditators should

constantly contemplate these things. We should reflect on our lives and our life experiences, on how we suffer because of our erroneous, distorted thoughts and negative, conflicting emotions.

The third stage of the meditation of tranquillity is called “repeated resting” of the mind (sometimes translated as “patch-like resting”). On this level, not only do we have a greater ability to use mindfulness, but we also have developed skills in dealing with the major obstacles of dullness and agitation. Being able to stay with the object of meditation is only the first step; being aware of the fundamental obstacles of dullness and agitation is the skill developed here.

The fourth stage is called “immediate resting.” As soon as a certain obstacle arises, we can either return to the object of meditation through the use of mindfulness or detect the obstacles of dullness and mental agitation whenever they occur. The level of distraction has decreased enormously. At this stage we no longer suffer from the second obstacle of forgetfulness—being unable to return to the object of meditation—and

therefore the practice of mindfulness has more or less been mastered. Laziness is still present, however, as are the other obstacles, but gross forms of mental agitation do not arise.

The obstacles of dullness and mental agitation can manifest in both gross and subtle forms. Meditators who have reached the fourth stage have been able to overcome not only the obstacle of forgetfulness, but also a portion of the third obstacle, dullness and mental agitation. The dullness has not yet been handled, but a certain part of the agitation has been overcome, particularly in its more

manifest aspects. There is an increasing necessity of relying on awareness to a greater degree, rather than mindfulness; we need to be more alert to detect the obstacle of dullness and mental agitation, since mindfulness has been mastered and forgetfulness does not cause a problem at this stage. Meditators must apply the antidote of awareness rigorously and need not be concerned about overapplication.

The fifth stage is known as “vigorous discipline.” Since mindfulness has been achieved, there is a greater sense of ease, and the mind is not agitated or perturbed in an uncomfortable manner. Yet the literature on meditation says that this stage is very dangerous. Having been able to overcome a certain gross level of mental agitation, meditators may become complacent or suffer from plain boredom, with no

emotions or thoughts to occupy the mind. Because there is no real agitation taking place, the meditators may be particularly vulnerable to the obstacle of dullness. Instead of being able to rest in a state of tranquillity with clarity, the mind may be robbed of clarity altogether. A sense of boredom and lack of interest may set in, while the obstacle of laziness has still not been overcome. At this stage one must pay particular attention to the obstacle of dullness, drowsiness, or stupor.

The sixth stage of tranquillity meditation is called “pacifying.” Here meditators are able to deal not only with the gross level of mental agitation but also with the obstacles that originate from dullness, particularly in its gross form. Subtle forms of dullness have not yet been overcome, because this obstacle is generally harder to detect than that of mental agitation.

The seventh stage of shamatha is known as “thoroughly pacifying.” At this level laziness may still arise from time to time, but it does not present major problems because conviction is so entrenched that we are not seduced by the different tendencies of laziness. Subtle forms of dullness and agitation may also still continue to occur at this stage. We must continue to be vigilant, lest we practice

overapplication. Long-time meditators may continue to use antidotes out of habit, when in fact what they should be using is subtle forms of awareness to overcome certain obstacles. Instead of applying awareness deliberately, for example, they should exercise awareness in a gentle and more detached way. Meditators should practice equanimity and gradually try to break down the attitude of seeing the obstacles as being bad and the antidotes as being good. They should realize that, through the practice of subtle forms of

awareness, it is possible to attain the state of tranquillity without exertion and without having to consciously apply the relevant antidotes. For this reason the past masters have suggested that here one should ease off and try to dwell naturally in a state of tranquillity, rather than vigorously apply antidotes.

The eighth stage is “one-pointedness.” Now we have overcome all the obstacles, even the fundamental one of mental dullness and agitation, in both gross and subtle (or manifest and concealed) forms. They do not need to apply awareness to remain in a state of tranquillity, because the obstacles no longer present any problems. This is where a state of one-pointedness is achieved. Meditation has become something natural, a way of being rather than something that has to be created by warding off obstacles through the application of antidotes.

The ninth and last stage is called “resting in equipoise,” which is more or less the culmination of shamatha practice and leads to the complete mastery of pliancy of body and mind.


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