As it spread across Asia and the rest of the globe, Buddhism changed and adapted to the local cultures it encountered; however, Buddhism’s core goal—freedom from suffering—and its core method—contemplative meditation—have perforce remained constant… until recently.

Thus it’s understandable that the 20th Century Westerners who went to Asia would come back with a unique version of Buddhist practice that ought to work better for those of us brought up in the West than the original article. The hybrid Buddhism that we inherited from them had been distilled down to the essentials that would most appeal to educated middle class White people like themselves.

That meant discarding inconvenient concepts and practices such as reincarnation, myths & deities, miracles & supernatural powers, ritual & chanting, merit-making, the more esoteric states of concentration practice, karma, renunciation, non-duality, and non-self. That’s how American Buddhism became divorced from Asian, and enabled a diminished “secular meditation” with all the uncomfortable bits filed off.

Triple productivity after 4 days of meditation!!!

That decision made some sense, as several parts of devotional Buddhism are at odds with our Christian heritage or directly contradict universally-accepted scientific laws. But the stylized meditation techniques that have gained such popularity in the American mainstream have also lost sight of the actual purpose and point of meditation practice.

The most facile example of the trendy “Mindfulness Movement” is Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction program. Obviously, learning tools to cope with stress is a Good Thing, but I can’t help but be saddened by how much got lost when the goal of meditation was reduced from the “eradication of the root cause of human suffering” to “just help me get through my day”.

It’s as if everyone in Asia had been inoculated with a one-time permanent cure for diabetes, but we Americans have shortsightedly continued carrying blood testing kits and syringes filled with insulin, only treating the symptoms of the chronic disease as they arise day after day.

Another painful example is how big business and professional sports have co-opted meditation as a cheap tactic for “guaranteed career success” and “enhancing peak performance”, promoted by well-heeled management consultants and wealthy athletes like Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and Derek Jeter.

I’ve participated in several sittings and talks run by prominent performance-oriented meditation gurus, and always felt deeply uncomfortable. Because at their core, these programs and prescriptions are diametrically opposed to what Buddhist meditation is all about. Whether it’s vanquishing your business or athletic rivals, these techniques are designed to promote selfish desires and goals which reinforce the ego.

In contrast, Buddhism guides the meditator toward the understanding that no worldly attainments can ever provide deep or lasting satisfaction; toward relinquishment of personal desires; and toward freedom from our unexamined enslavement to the insecure demands of the ego.

All too frequently, I hear proclamations from people publicly known as meditation experts that completely set my nerves on edge. In their own literal words, meditation can: lower stress levels, help you drop all distractions that may interfere with winning, enhance peak performance, aid in the reduction of how chronic pain affects the mind, help you cope with the aftermath of a disappointing performance, strengthen your drive, boost your belief in yourself and your ability, build your athletic identity, improve sleep patterns, speed recovery time, enhance endurance, aid in proper fueling, and help control oxygen.

I’m sorry George, but the Buddha had a far more important and fulfilling goal than “speeding recovery time”, “building his athletic identity”, and “controlling oxygen”.

Through tireless self-aggrandizement and promotion, many of these business and sports meditation gurus have grown rich and famous as a result of dispensing their advice. I’m going to leave that contradiction aside however, as it’s too obviously hypocritical to waste time discussing.

Attending these completely secularized meditative self-gratification programs is kind of like taking classes at a prestigious cooking school, but disregarding everything except how to microwave a frozen burrito. It’s such a waste! Buddhism has a larger mission and so much more to offer than empty self-affirmations and greed-reinforcing self-talk.

I’ve also observed that when teachers introduce meditation practices to naïve Westerners, most of the reported short-term benefit is due to peer pressure or the placebo effect. For the practitioners I’ve known, their initial months of meditation were uncomfortable and challenging before things settled down and the practice started producing its slow, gentle results. But Americans have been sold a persistent fable that meditation will produce immediate and noticeable relief; so that’s what people report, after just a few minutes alone with their unruly internal dialogue.

For all these reasons, the majority of Americans think of—and relate to—meditation as if it were just another self-improvement project: a way to be a far more powerful, unshakeable, invincible you.

While there are undeniable positive side effects of long-term meditation practice, it’s not about building up, improving, or perfecting the self; it’s about letting go of the self, and liberation from the tyranny of the ego.

And the ultimate goal of Buddhist meditation—which the Western mindfulness movement has completely forgotten—is the freedom and well-being that results from the eradication of suffering in our lives: something many self-proclaimed “meditation experts” have a vested interest in perpetuating and profiting from.

First, two operative assumptions:

Every human being experiences some degree of suffering during their lives.

Every human being wants their suffering to be heard and met with compassion.

Given those two truths, the logical inference is that all compassion comes from beings who are experiencing suffering of their own.

Think about that for a moment. The beauty of compassion isn’t just that one person cares about the wellbeing of another; rather, it’s that one person cares about it so much that they are willing to set aside their own suffering and (completely justified) need for compassion in order to provide it for someone else.

This is the built-in irony of compassion: you cannot express compassion to others without first overcoming your own immediate desire to receive compassion for your own suffering.

In our modern society, many individuals, when presented with another person’s suffering, cannot see past their own problems. Their response to a plea for help might be: “I know what you mean because I hurt too, and since my suffering is so much greater than yours, I deserve compassion more than you do.” These people treat compassion as if it were a zero-sum game based around moral debt. They are so encased in self-concern that they are blinded to others, going through life unknowingly causing great harm to the people around them.

I’m not saying that we should neglect our own suffering. There are, of course, times when our need for compassion is acute, and we need to know how to skillfully balance letting our friends and family meet our emotional needs without imposing on them unduly.

Bottom line? When you are able to see beyond your own suffering and offer compassion to others, that is a moment to be celebrated and a true state of grace. And when you need help to deal with the suffering in your own life, gracefully accept compassion when it is offered, because it comes from people who have willingly chosen put their own problems aside to care for and empathize with you.

So I’ve finally read the long-awaited (and equally long-titled) book “Field Notes on the Compassionate Life: A Search for the Soul of Kindness” by Marc Ian Barasch.

In a former LJ posting, I mentioned that I first discovered this book through an excerpt (actually, the entire first chapter) which appeared in the May 2005 issue of Shambala Sun magazine. That article really seemed to get to the heart of the matter: the struggle to recognize the value of compassion and the difficulty of embodying it in this jaded, selfish postmodern society.

Looking back on it, I guess there were two expectations that I had formulated about the book. I hoped that it would give me a compelling argument to give to my fellow educated pessimists about the long-overdue transformation that increased compassion could make in our lives and our society. And I hoped that Barasch would give me some very practical advice about how to actually model more compassionate behavior in the real world.

Even after reading the book, I’m not sure whether it succeeds in addressing either question. Barasch spends a lot of time establishing the idea that compassion is an essential part of human nature, that it is a Darwinian “nice to have” that provides a species with an evolutionary advantage over the competition. He travels the globe, seeking out people who epitomize compassion, examining their motives, and trying to figure out what makes them different from the rest of us.

He does provide numerous insights into how radically a more compassionate society might look, and how self-destructive selfishness is, both on an individual as well as a societal level. And his exemplars all answer the question “How do you do it?” the same way: by caring about everyone and just acting on it. But can that really be all there is to it? The author provides a few illustrations of his own struggle to become more empathic, but he sets himself up as the struggling, all-too-human practitioner, never relating anecdotes of techniques that have worked for him in the past.

So in that sense, the book didn’t quite meet my expectations. It doesn’t really set itself up as a silver bullet for society’s problems, nor does it claim to be a step-by-step guide for those seeking advice on how to replace their selfishness with more compassionate behaviors.

On the other hand, it’s still an intriguing, well-researched book on what could very well be one of the most important topics of our time. It provides a scientific, sociological, and anecdotal basis for leading a more kindhearted life. In that sense, Barasch has provided an underpinning for a modern body of ethics that is infinitely more fulfilling than the purely selfish secularism that passes for wisdom in these otherwise ethically bankrupt times.

So I'd like to take a few minutes and tell you about one of the most transformational events in my life, and how it has played out in a recent episode from my life.

My first series of anecdotes comes from my senior year in high school, and my first real relationship. Steeped in the intensity of the conflicting emotions of adolescence, I found myself to be an intensely jealous person. I wasn't just jealous of people, but anything that received the attention or affection of my girlfriend, Ailsa.

For example, one of the popular songs when we were dating was Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger", which came out with "Rocky III". Ailsa loved it so much that whenever it came on the radio, she'd stop whatever she was doing (even if it was necking with me!), turn the volume up, and sing along at full volume. It didn't take long for me to absolutely despise that song, with a blind hatred that burned fierce and blinding.

Another of the things that she loved were irises. My mother had coincidentally planted three or four such flowers along the side of our driveway, and one day when Ailsa and I weren't doing so well I got so irritated by their reminding me of her that I pulled up all the flowers, bulbs and all, and smashed them into oblivion with a sledgehammer right in the middle of our driveway.

These certainly aren't the only such stories, but they serve to underscore how irrational, how overpowering, and how instinctive my jealousy was at that age.

Now, fast-forward twelve years, when Ailsa and I began dating a second time, and lived together for a short time. Both of us had been through marriage and divorce, and we'd begun exploring various sexual fringe groups: she'd spent some time in the lesbian community, and we were beginning to explore both BDSM and polyamory together.

As we attended various "play parties", she commanded attention from some people, and I commanded it from others. Each of us met new people and were accepted into new groups that we wouldn't have been able to enjoy if we'd operated separately. It became very apparent that we both benefitted socially when we allowed one other to make contact with other people.

Now, under these circumstances, you'd think that jealousy would be an immense problem. After all, we're talking about your primary partner being pretty explicitly affectionate with someone else, right in front of your face! However, we both realized that we'd each get our own share of attention, and that we were committed to one another in a way that was much stronger than the more casual exchanges we had with folks outside our relationship.

This really hit home for me when Ailsa developed a serious (but at the time unspoken) infatuation for another woman she knew. Knowing that I'd gotten the lion's share of attention from people outside our relationship, I knew it was only fair that I give her the green light to see where their relationship might take them. I also knew that my relationship with Ailsa wasn't threatened, so I let it go ahead. It really was a completely new frontier for me, being able to completely support my partner's interest in another person.

And once I got that far, I found myself in a position where I didn't just passively authorize their relationship, but actively put the two of them into situations that had romantic potential. Since I'd already decided that it would be okay with me that Ailsa take on another lover, that extension only made sense. And besides, it was fun!

The most powerful part of the situation, which cemented it permanently into my behavior, was the feedback I got. Because she knew it was okay with me, Ailsa was free to share the heady excitement of her new relationship with me, which was an absolutely wonderful way for me to experience positive reinforcement for the freedom and support I'd given her. Seeing the woman I loved, flush with the thrill of a new romance, was incredbily moving, and I found myself in the almost unbelievable position of supporting her relationship and not feeling even a hint of the jealousy that I otherwise would have expected.

It has been only recently that the made-up term "compersion" has appearred in polyamorous circles to describe this very unique feeling I experienced: the abundant joy of seeing someone you love falling in love. Most people (certainly virtually all monogamists) in such a situation will respond from a place of fear, selfishness, denial, resistance, and possessiveness. Taking polyamory to heart enabled me to respond in a completely different way: from a place of love, trust, support, and sharing. And what a wonderful energy I got in return! This kind of basic transformation of your relationships is why I consider polyamory a far, far more integral part of who I am than mere "passtimes" such as BDSM and bisexuality and so forth.

What this episode did was firmly establish the perspective from which I treat the people I care about. Love is not about possession or control, which is what 95 percent of people practice (even though they do not admit it); love is about making another person's happiness just as important as your own, and really acting that way.

Now let's fast-forward another seven years. After four years of dating perhaps the most wonderful woman I've ever met, I'd pretty much decided that Inna was the love of a lifetime, something I had been absolutely unable to envision after the failure of my marriage. And yet, at the same time, Inna (a monogamist) was becoming more and more convinced that I was not the person she wanted to grow old with, and that we needed to stop seeing one another in order to give her enough room to see other people. She and I had a number of long discussions about how and why she thought this outcome would make her happier in the long run. For me, coming from my world-view, that was the most important factor: her happiness.

Many of my friends wondered how I could surrender my own hopes and desires for the relationship, and support Inna's desire that we separate. I'm sure that some of them surely think that my lack of a dramatic, possessive, selfish tantrum proves that I don't really love Inna, but in fact they've got it exactly backwards. The only reason why I can give up my dreams of a life together is because I love her so much, and because her happiness is so very important to me.

Between my divorce and my relationships with Ailsa, I've developed a very simple but unique philosophy, which has been tested and, in my opinion, proven correct in my relationship with Inna. If you love someone and they want something, you have a simple choice: you can either support their desire and help them pursue what they believe will make them happy, or you can establish yourself as an obstacle between your partner and their happiness. You might even be able to get away with standing between your partner and her happiness for a period of time. But every time you do that, you will prove that her happiness is not important to you, and in the long run she will tire of your selfishness and leave you. In short, the typical monogamist tactics of jealousy and selfishness and possessiveness are self-defeating long-term strategies.

So for me, the answer is clear: always remember that "love" means valuing someone else's happiness, and always do your best to help the people you love achieve the things that will make them happy. That's how you act from a place of love, not from a place of fear.

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