Into the Heart of Life (22 page)

We are surrounded by buddhas and bodhisattvas! Isn’t that wonderful? If we only saw people as they really are, then we would be overjoyed and honored to serve them. This is not a path for the oppressed—this is a path of joy!

The third verse says:

In all my actions may I watch my mind,

And as soon as disturbing emotions arise,

May I forcefully stop them at once,

Since they will hurt both me and others.

Now as I am sure you know, dealing with what are called the three or the five poisons is one of the main concerns in Buddhism. Throughout the ages there have been various ways developed to deal with the poisons of ignorance, desire, and anger, together with envy and pride. Until we become an arhat or a buddha, everybody has something of the three poisons, and we all suffer from them to a greater or lesser degree.

This text reveals the conduct of perfectly realized bodhisattvas selflessly giving of themselves, serving others before themselves, completely joyful and fearless in the face of all that they meet. —Well, when considering such matters, we have to be very honest. If we are fortunate enough to really have these qualities, that is wonderful. But it does not help to pretend to ourselves that we are perfect bodhisattvas. If we assume the pose of being perfectly loving and compassionate, without irritation or anger, and entirely filled with loving-kindness toward all other beings, then we create more problems for ourselves than benefit.

It often happens, especially with newcomers to the Dharma or to this kind of doctrine, that when we hear of the actions of bodhisattvas and read about the problems of self-cherishing, we think a genuine practitioner should act like this and never think like that. We force ourselves to become as actors playing a part because we don’t want to admit to any negative elements. We suppress our unwholesome emotions, thereby creating what in Jungian psychology is called the shadow. We develop a shadow because we do not face up to the more disreputable parts of our psyche—we believe that we are only allowed to acknowledge the light. Eventually, this causes a crisis. People get nervous disorders and so forth and they become very disillusioned with spiritual practice as they were trying so hard: “I’ve always tried to be a good person so why is this psychological breakdown happening to me?” And usually, it is because they have not been true to themselves. Even lamas complain about it because people have their ideas of how lamas and gurus and monks should behave. They are expected to act in certain ways—to be ever happy and smiling and however else we imagine a perfect being behaves. We do not allow them to be just who they are. It does not mean that our teachers should be undisciplined and wild, but often they cannot express themselves as a real person. This can feel imprisoning. And if they have any insight into their nature, they know that while they are not bad, they are still human beings. There is a famous line from Shakespeare’s
Hamlet,
“This above all: to thine own self be true.” When we are true to ourselves, we are naturally honest with others.

The only way to really know what is going on inside ourselves is to look dispassionately. We can lie to ourselves a lot, especially about our intentions and motivations. Usually we give good-sounding motives for whatever we do, and often those motives are not real. We deceive ourselves as to our real intentions in order to feel okay about ourselves. Even Hitler and Mao Tse Tung and Pol Pot felt outraged when anyone questioned whether what they were doing was for the benefit of the masses. They justified everything that they did. As far as they were concerned they were great heroes. We can justify anything, including genocide.

Observing our thoughts without judging them, looking into the quality of our thoughts and feelings, are ways that can really help us to become honest with ourselves. We can just see what comes up. As we progress in our spiritual practice, more and more subtle undertones start to arise. We may see that certain qualities which we had considered acceptable are not okay. Or we may find, delving beneath the surface, that certain qualities that had once seemed suspect are actually fine. According to Buddhist psychology, any action of body, speech, or mind in which the basic intention is tainted by any poison is negative and will result in unwholesome karma. It doesn’t matter how we justify these actions to ourselves. If our real underlying motivation is based on our ignorance or desire or anger, on our aversion or jealousy or pride, the results will always be harmful. But if we become aware—if we know what is actually happening in our minds—then we are able to recognize these positive and negative tendencies at the moment of their arising. Often, however, by the time we are conscious of feeling angry or greedy or jealous, we have already been swept along by it. So the sooner we can distinguish what is arising in our minds, the easier it is to just accept it and let go. None of these negative qualities are arbitrary; they are very basic qualities which are interconnected, and their existence derives from this sense of self, this sense of a self-existing autonomous ego, which is our basic ignorance.

It is obvious that once we have this sense of a separate, autonomous ego, the desire to gratify the ego will follow. A desiring, greedy mind reaches out toward anything that appears to be pleasurable—people, things, experiences, thoughts. But sometimes our desires are thwarted and we are unable to get what we want. Or things appear to us to be threatening and painful, and that creates aversion or anger or irritation, as our desire for pleasure has been frustrated. Dukkha, or dissatisfaction, comes, the Buddha said, when we don’t get what we want or get what we don’t want. The sharper the insight into what is actually going on in the mind, the more we realize that everything we do is polarized between attracting pleasure and avoiding pain. Even when we change our physical position we are inviting comfort and trying to avoid pain. We are as conditioned as a plant that turns toward sunlight and shrinks from the cold, and we do it all the time. Usually we are unconscious of it.

We all have kleshas, afflictive emotions. That is not the problem. But we would do well to become ever more conscious of these negative forces in our mind. We can recognize them and see them for what they are. It is as if we are unmasking a wrong-doer. They shrivel of themselves. Often we don’t even need to actually do anything. For example, if we feel irritation arising, we can say to ourselves, “anger.” And once we have recognized the anger, of itself it will begin to dissipate. It is not that we have to face anger with more anger—we do not feel angry at ourselves for being angry. That just creates a cycle. When we can recognize that a big angry demon is but a figment of our imagination, it simply evaporates.

These poisons create our problems in life. They are not our friends. On this point, Buddhist texts are very strict. Sometimes the poisons appear innocuous, especially greed, because when our greed is fulfilled it does not feel like a problem. Held in our heart, these emotional defilements are our enemy. They are endless and endlessly agitating. They can never be satisfied. Angry people sometimes feel very self-righteous; anger often feels very justified, so it seems all right. But in fact, to be angry is like having an enemy sitting in our heart. After all, we can try to reconcile with our enemies. We can sign a treaty and even become friends. But when we recognize our enemies the poisons, we can call on the Dharma to help us on the spiritual path. For example, the antidote to greed is contentment, sharing, and generosity. The antidote to anger is patience in difficult situations as well as compassion and love. The antidote to envy is joy and happiness in the other’s good fortune; and the antidote to pride, of course, is explained in this text, the
Eight Verses of Mind Training—
to place others before ourselves.

Dharma is to be practiced day by day. It is not reserved just for the meditation hall. It is to be cultivated from moment to moment. And so the fourth verse says:

When I see ill-natured people,

Overwhelmed by wrong deeds and pain,

May I cherish them as something rare,

As though I had found a treasure-trove.

This verse opens us to the question of what we do when we meet people who are difficult or ill-natured. Normally our reaction is to avoid them or to become irritated or even angry. But in order to genuinely advance on the spiritual path, we need to cultivate compassion and loving-kindness and develop the patient acceptance of difficulties and obstacles. Now if one is a reasonably nice person, usually other people will be pleasant to us in return. That’s very good. But it is very easy to be friendly and loving with people who are themselves friendly and loving. Effort is not particularly required. After all, even wolves and tigers are friendly and loving toward their own. But it is no good to exercise by lifting a feather. If we want to develop real spiritual muscles and become a bodhisattva—a spiritual warrior, as it is translated from the Tibetan—we need obstacles to overcome. We need heavy weights. And that is what this text is about—the gratitude we feel toward difficulties and obstacles. This is how we learn. Of course we don’t need to invite these difficulties, but when they do come, we know the method to deal with them skillfully.

Atisha, the founding father of lojong, brought an attendant with him to Tibet who was a Bengali monk. This attendant was rude and obnoxious and would never do anything anyone asked of him. Perplexed, Atisha’s disciples said, “Look, why do you keep this awful person to attend you? We would really serve you with so much devotion. Please send him back and we will look after you.”

Atisha replied, “What are you talking about? He is my greatest spiritual friend. Without him how am I going to put all these Dharma principles into action? You are all so devoted and loving, you are of no use!”

And so this is why the text says of ill-natured people, “May I cherish them as something rare.” It is a very skillful way of dealing with people and situations we find difficult. Becoming upset, creating more anger and aversion, only causes more suffering for ourselves. Actually, our anger does not hurt others. They may feel settled in their smug complacency. They are fine. But we are the one who suffers. We are doing for ourselves what only our enemies would want for us. Why give them that satisfaction? And this is the point—depending on our attitude, situations are helpful or not. It is not what is happening out there. It is how we deal with it.

During the Second World War, there was a young Jewish woman in Holland named Etty Hillesum who was in her late twenties. She was an artist and writer leading a fairly bohemian life. She was not really religious; she was just an ordinary sort of person. At that time under the Nazi regime the Jewish people had to wear a yellow Star of David so that everyone would know that they were Jewish. As they could no longer travel on public transport, they could not work. As they were not issued with ration cards, they could not buy most foodstuffs. They were destitute and starving. During the day they were constantly harrassed by Nazi soldiers who were very aggressive, full of hatred, and totally powerful. Then came the routine of arrests in their homes at night so they could be sent to the death camps. It was a time of immense hardship, terror, and fear, and Etty saw all of it. She wrote many letters, and this is how we know of her. Etty later died in one of the camps. In her letters she had observed what was going on around her and wondered, “What can we do? What is the answer to all this hatred and fear and violence?” She wrestled with this and realized that the moment she gave in to hatred and fear, they won. The only answer was love. When she answered their hatred with love, she was victorious.

The
Eight Verses of Mind Training
unfolds for us now in the fifth verse this question of reactivity and defensiveness. Normally when someone criticizes us, we jump in to defend ourselves to prove them wrong. And so the verse says:

When someone out of envy does me wrong

By insulting me and the like,

May I accept defeat

And offer the victory to them.

We are not trying to be masochistic, but unless it is something really important, what does it matter? We are always willing to take credit when people say good things about us, but why not be equally pleased if people say bad things? If it makes people happy to spread bad things about us, that is their problem.

Actually, praise and blame are just words. If somebody praises us then we should look and see if their praise is valid or not. If it is true, then that is nice. But if it isn’t, then they are praising their own projection. Likewise, if someone blames and insults us, we should see if what they are saying is true. If it is true, then the people who criticize us are actually helping us by pointing out faults which we ourselves may not be conscious of. So we should feel grateful. And if it is not true, then what’s the problem? The only time when it would be considered acceptable to defend ourselves is if the defamation or insult created some real problems, especially for other people involved. For example, if we are working as a part of an organization and someone spreads untrue rumors about it, creating some obstacles or harm, then it would be fair to set the record straight.

We don’t usually hurry to correct others when we are unfairly praised beyond what is actually true. But we are fast on our guard against any criticism! Let’s be happy even when others speak badly about us through the force of their jealousy or envy. Let’s just relax.