Time for a grab bag of Buddhisty observations based on some recent
readings, dharma talks, and workshops.
At a recent talk, Ajahn Geoff
was asked about the Buddhist concept of Right
Effort: specifically, how to cultivate the discipline to perform
actions you don’t want to do, but which you know will have
positive results. To my surprise, he responded by outlining my
longstanding belief that you must be guided by how you will feel on your
deathbed about the choice you made. I’ve mentioned this guiding
view of mine in blog posts from 2005 here and 2003 here.
My belief that the brahmaviharas of metta (lovingkindness) and
karuna
(compassion) are very similar was confirmed by Narayan at a
recent CIMC workshop. The
main difference is that compassion is more specifically targeted at
suffering, whereas metta is a more general friendliness toward all,
irrespective of the conditions of their life.
The phrases Narayan uses for compassion practice are “May I
care for your [physical] pain” and “May I care for your
[emotional] sorrow”. I feel that “May I” is
semantically much weaker than “I do”, and “care
for” is weaker and more vague than “care about”. So
the phrases that speak to me most compellingly are “I care about
your pain” and “I care about your sorrow”.
While on the topic of the compassion workshop, I should mention the
following. Although I am currently halfway through my intended year of
intensive metta practice, my current intention is to follow that up with
a year of intensive karuna practice. That’ll cover the first two
brahmaviharas, but I do not plan on devoting the same time and energy to
the remaining brahmaviharas of equanimity and sympathetic joy.
When someone expresses dismay with the phrase “It’s not
fair!”, I have always taken glee in pointing out that “Life
isn’t fair, and you’re setting yourself up to be
disappointed if you expect it to be”. I have recently begun to
appreciate that although life indeed isn’t fair, that
doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have compassion for those who
suffer from life’s injustices, and take action to remedy them.
The two figures on the table behind the teachers’ platform at
CIMC are Avalokitesvara,
the bodhisattva
of compassion (aka Guan Yin, Chenrezig), and Manjusri, the
bodhisattva of transcendent wisdom. It seems a bit odd to have them so
honored in a Theravadin meditation
center, but it does underscore how relaxed CIMC is about borrowing from
other Buddhist lineages.
We are often so preoccupied with planning about the future or
reminiscing about the past that we aren’t paying any attention to
the present moment. We must be present for our minds to process the
sensory input we receive in each moment. If we are absent, one might say
that we are “Out of our minds”. Are you “out of your
mind”?
One of the observations in the Pali Canon is that our egos exhibit
certain seemingly contradictory impulses: the desire to exist, and the
desire to not exist. These can be seen, of example, in the desire to
“leave one’s mark on the world”, or the parental
impulse to live solely for one’s offspring’s benefit, losing
oneself in something other than one’s own life. The Buddha stated
quite clearly that these are not helpful preoccupations. However, many
Buddhists also espouse the idea of cosmic unity: the view that we are
all one entity, one living expression of universe, rather than many
unique and separate individuals. To me, this seems to be just another,
more politically correct manifestation of the desire to not exist.
Submersion in some anonymous universal being is just as much a
manifestation of the ego’s desire to find oblivion as any other
human activity.
One of the ways that karma works is
by one action setting up the conditions that influence one’s
future state. For example, if we choose not to pay back a debt, we have
created the conditions that cause others to mistrust us. Thus our bad
acts indeed precipitate negative reactions from others, which impinge
upon our future lives.
In “Walden”, Thoreau
writes about mankind’s advancement of science and contrasting lack
of progress in the ethical sphere thus: “Our inventions are wont
to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things.
They are but improved means to an unimproved end.” Technology is a
tool that multiplies our capabilities, but it’s up to man to
create something meaningful with that enhanced capability, and our
philosophies haven’t advanced in any meaningful sense in the past 2000
years.
One way of looking at mindfulness is being
mentally and physically present and open to the beauty in each instant
of life in its fullness. If there is so much beauty and joy to be
experienced in this world (and I believe there is), that raises the
question of how to avoid being overwhelmed by it. At any given instant,
I am presented with all kinds of sensory input and myriad potential
objects of attention; so if I am to appreciate any of it fully, how do I
choose what part of that experience to focus my attention on? This
difficulty is compounded by the Buddhist affinity for what is called “choiceless
awareness”.
One of the reasons western society is so focused on acquisition as a
method of seeking happiness is the very affluence we have achieved.
Consider the experience of a child going through a mega-warehouse toy
store. The child is presented with thousands of wonderful things that
create and fortify his sense desire. But even though his parents might
give him numerous toys that far exceed what children in most other
cultures would have, no parent can buy everything in the store, so the
overwhelming majority of that child’s experience is being
repeatedly told that they cannot have what they want. This cultivates an
incessant feeling of lack, which over time solidifies into a longlasting
sense of dissatisfaction, with a particular focus on acquisitiveness as
the solution to life’s inherent disappointments. The scenario of a
child surrounded by toys—seeking happiness from material objects
they cannot have—is played out throughout adulthood as we are
enslaved by our compulsive desire for the newest electronic gadgets, a
sleek car, a wonderful home with the nicest television and kitchen
appliances, and a trophy spouse. But ultimately it is the very profusion
of consumer goods available to us that makes us feel deprived,
impoverished, and unloved.
Most American adults suffer from some form of self-esteem issues. As
a result, our childcare and education systems have changed to place an
immense emphasis on cultivating self-esteem in our children.
Today’s youth have grown up in an environment where they are not
criticized, they are not disciplined, and they never face emotional
hurt. However, since they have rarely if ever seen one of their peers
suffering and in emotional pain, they have also never learned the skill
of compassion. And even if they do see another person hurting, their own
lack of trauma means they haven’t developed the ability to
empathize with another person. To one who has never been hurt, the sight
of another person’s suffering brings up feelings of aversion and
disgust and fear rather than compassion; others’ suffering becomes
something that divides and separates people rather than unites them in
sympathy. By putting so much effort into raising children with a strong
sense of self-esteem, we have accidentally raised a generation of youth
who are self-absorbed and stunningly lacking in the virtues of empathy
and compassion.
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