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Four Immeasurables – Equanimity (Upeksha) – Talk 4 – 2010 Series

Norman speaks on Equanitmity (Upeksha) the fourth and final of the Four Immeasurables. Norman refers to the book “The Four Immeasurables: Cultivating a Boundless Heart by Alan Wallace.

Equanimity (Upekkhā) – Fourth of the Four Immeasurables

By Zoketsu Norman Fischer | May 27, 2010

Editor’s note: This talk contains guided meditations on equanimity. You might consider pausing during the reading of the talk to do this practice. The pauses and bells that end certain stages are indicated in the text.

Let me go on to talk about the last of The Four Unlimited Abodes, Upekkhā, or equanimity. It’s the fourth of the Brahmaviharas, and that word is usually translated as “divine unlimited” or “divine abodes.” These four are divine because they are such beautiful human emotions – divine human emotions. It’s heavenly to feel love, compassion, and joy for others, so they are really heavenly emotions, God-like emotions. They are considered to be abodes, because they are conceived of as strong foundations, or places, or locales, where we can really take our stand, our firmest stand as human beings. They are understood as unlimited, in contrast to materiality and afflictive emotions, which are, by definition, limited.

I have always been fascinated by the definition in Abhidharma of material, physical things. The definition is, “That which can be abused.” Meaning harmed. A physical thing, whether it is a body or a stone or a cloud – you can wreck it, break it up. You can take it apart. You can’t do that with a thought. You can’t take a thought apart or an emotion apart. But physical matter is that which can be harmed and, in the case of the body, can become ill and will eventually disintegrate and disappear. So, by nature, physicality is limited. Afflictive emotions are inherently limited, because they are based on the idea of separation and isolation. Envy, greed, despair, unrequited desire, anger, aggression, and so on, are based on the certainty that there are limited objects. There is me and there is you. Those emotions couldn’t exist without that assumption of limits. But love, joy, compassion, and equanimity ultimately flow from the absolute, empty, unlimited nature of things. These emotions are conceived of as not just nicer and more pleasant than the afflictive emotions, but as emotions that flow from a completely different basis. They’re grounded in awakening, in the clear understanding of a unified and unlimited reality. So these four are by their nature unlimited.

I am saying this in relation to the fourth one, equanimity, because equanimity has a special place within the list of four. If you remember when we did practices for maitri, mudita and karuna, it was a little different in each case, but it was typical for us to start with oneself. Then, next, a person that we really appreciated and liked, and then a neutral person or persons, and then we went from there to all beings without limit. Then we went to a hostile person. Always, at the end, we returned to emptiness and simple presence. That was the way we practiced these meditations.

So equanimity is actually built into the other three practices. Equanimity is part of loving-kindness, compassion, and sympathetic joy. As you come to develop those other emotions fully and in an unlimited way, you always end up with equanimity-lovingkindness, equanimity-compassion. Equanimity implies equality – not favoring or rejecting anything, but equally regarding everything.

This is always a stretch, an aspiration, rather than something we could have claimed to achieve. But we practice it little by little, extending ourselves with the faith that it is possible to get there, not in some idealistic way, but in some really down-to-earth, practical way. It really is possible to have equanimity. But it does take time, and we do have to practice it continuously, and extend it step-by-step. We all noticed, I think, in the doing of the practice, that it was a lot easier to have love, joy, and compassion for people who we are close with and admire and like, than it was to have those emotions for people with whom we really have problems.

Maybe you also noticed – and maybe it’s not true for everybody – that it’s much easier to have positive emotions for people that we like and have affection for than for oneself. It seems like it wouldn’t be the case, but actually it often is. Maybe it is even easier to have compassion, loving-kindness, sympathetic joy for all beings than it is for oneself. But if you leave out yourself, then you can’t really say there is equanimity, because there is still self-clinging. When the practices of maitri, mudita, and karuna are developed to the point of equanimity, or equality, and when you can love warmly and equally all beings, even an enemy, even yourself, then you are practicing equanimity.

So, in a sense, you could say that equanimity is not a fourth practice, a different practice. It is the full development of the other three. Note, though, that the near enemy of equanimity is stupid indifference, or a kind of neutrality. A lot of people think of equanimity as a kind of a lukewarm neutrality. But it’s not a neutrality. It’s an active, loving, eyes-wide-open regard for all beings – equally. Further, equanimity is a strong emotion that even extends beyond one’s relationships to other beings. It extends to our capacity to have equanimity under all conditions that arise within our lives. Whatever we would meet, even if we were having some pretty adverse situation, we would have this balanced, calm, warm attitude.

There are two Pali words for equanimity, and they both express aspects of what I am talking about. The one I used before, upekkhā, literally means “to look over.” It’s interesting. The literal root meaning of equanimity is “to look over.” I think it implies being circumspect, being able to see the whole picture in its fullness. To see all reality accurately. To see the interconnected, non-separate nature of our lives clearly.

The far enemy of upekkhā is attachment or aversion. In other words, a partial seeing. Not looking over everything, but just seeing only parts of it. Partial feeling. Feeling for some over here, but not feeling for others over there. Seeing some over here in a positive light and not seeing others over there. Equanimity is exactly impartial. It sees and feels in a whole way, not partially. Seeing and feeling parts is fragmented. It’s isolating. It’s painful. Ultimately painful. It may not feel painful at the time, but ultimately it’s painful. Seeing and feeling whole is calm and peaceful and balanced. So equanimity has that flavor; it has that feeling tone. It’s non-agitated. It’s calm, but it is not a calm based on ignoring something or avoiding something. It will include love or sorrow or pain, but with a feeling of calmness and understanding, that holds these feelings in a balanced way. So there is always some happiness in accepting conditions patiently.

Another Pali word often translated as equanimity is tatramajjhattata, a little more obscure word, but also one that translates as equanimity. The word tatra means “there.” And maja means “middle,” as in the Majjhima Nikaya, The Middle Length Sayings. Tata is the same as Tathagata. In Pali it means “to stand.” In Mahayana Buddhism it means “to exist or to be in a pure or ultimate sense.” To appear with full integrity. So equanimity would mean “to be fully present, fully alive, right in the middle of things.” To take one’s stand in life right in the middle of things, so that one is not subject to being pushed or pulled to either side.

Equanimity, then, is inherently generous and trustworthy and supportive of all of reality, without taking sides. It’s in the middle. It stands in the middle of things – not to either side. Again, this doesn’t mean stupid neutrality, because actually standing in the middle of reality, in the middle of our lives, is the only place you could stand and maintain full integrity. Otherwise, you would be biased; you would be unbalanced; and therefore, you would be vulnerable. You would eventually suffer and cause others to suffer.

Now let me step back and say something that goes to everything we have been saying this month. The teachings of the Four Unlimiteds are given in two different contexts, in Theravada Buddhism and also in Mahayana Buddhism. I know in my own case – and I think this is true for most of us – we think of them as being Theravada Buddhist teachings, because mostly we hear of them from the American Vipassana movement or from Theravada monks and teachers. But it is also the same teaching and has a Mahayana perspective.

In Theravada Buddhism there is a fairly detailed discussion of the Four Unlimiteds, and here the focus is the Four Unlimiteds as a basis for a concentration practice. The main point of Theravada Buddhism is reaching the goal of freedom or nirvana. In order to achieve freedom or nirvana, we have to let go of our afflictive emotions and our afflicted views, not only consciously, but also unconsciously. To give up them up consciously may be fairly easy to do; but compared to giving them up unconsciously, in places where we don’t even know we have them – you have to develop the Four Unlimiteds as a concentration practice. To have freedom, we would have to purify ourselves at unconscious levels, and concentration is the only thing that would go deep enough to the unconscious levels of the heart.

So that is the reason why, when we were practicing these things over the last couple weeks, we would start first with phrases and intentions that we would say over and over again. Then I said to forget the words and just practice with this nameless feeling as a physical feeling in the breath. I said forget about wishing people loving-kindness and just feel the love in the breath. Feeling love in the breath is at the level where you develop concentration. Concentration is not developed through intentional language; it is developed through an immediate, somatic practice.

The point is that through deep concentration, through the Four Unlimiteds, eventually we would purify ourselves of all of the emotions that come from self-clinging. Then we would have an unlimited, positive feeling for all beings. Then – and this is why I am mentioning all of this – the last stage of this development would be that we develop equanimity. There is usually some shadow of partiality in loving-kindness, compassion, and sympathetic joy. It is sort of built into all those practices, until you come to the end in which there is impartiality. So equanimity is the last broom that sweeps away the last vestiges of attachment or affection, in the negative sense of affection as clinging or grasping. So we would develop these concentrations as a way of sweeping out our hearts.

I was studying this today in the Visuddhimagga, the great textbook of Theravada Buddhist practice. The Four Unlimiteds are considered as a hierarchy of concentration stages. Each one is more refined and subtle than the previous one. Each one takes you, step-by-step, into what is called the Four Formless Concentrations, the deepest concentration states – the ultimate meditation practices. So when you really achieve concentration on loving-kindness, this brings forth the concentration called beauty. You see the loveliness of the world. The way it works is that, after the initial elation, you then begin to notice the faults of that concentration state, and so you go on to the next state that purifies those faults. The next state, in this system, is compassion. When you concentrate on compassion, it brings forth the concentration of boundless space, because that which is boundless goes beyond beauty to awesomeness. But then you notice, after the initial thrill of feeling that, the limitations in boundlessness. There is some basis for attachment, so you move to sympathetic joy, which brings forth the concentration of boundless consciousness. This is deeper and more subtle than the state of boundlessness, because space has inside and outside, has here and there, but pure consciousness collapses these distinctions. So this implies that somehow joy in others’ joy is a more potentially pure emotion than either of the previous two. Then you finally advance to equanimity, which brings forth the concentration on nothingness or nothing, which is beyond consciousness. With nothingness there is no self, there is no other, there is no consciousness, there is no suffering, and there is no alleviation of suffering. Just as the Heart Sutra says, everything is empty, and so there are no fears, there are no troubles. So these are stages of development of concentration in Theravada Buddhism, and how they align with the Four Unlimiteds.

In Mahayana Buddhism the goal is not freedom or nirvana. The goal is – and some might debate this – bodhicitta, this vow to practice endlessly for the benefit of others. That’s actually the heart of the commitment in Mahayana practice. So we are not actually seeking freedom and liberation for ourselves. We really think that that is a limited goal. Instead, we are seeking to have the passionate feeling of wanting to practice. This would include all sorts of benefits for ourselves, of course, but the point of these benefits would be that we could be of benefit to others.

In a sense, in Mahayana Buddhism, the Four Unlimiteds are seen not as means to an end, but as ends in themselves. So in Mahayana Buddhism the discussion of the Four Unlimiteds doesn’t center on concentration practice too much. Instead, it centers on the vow to love others equally and unconditionally, with the recognition – this is always repeated – that the only way that this would be possible is to embrace and understand the nature of self and other as being empty; that is, empty in the sense of radical interconnectedness. So in reality there is no self or other. No things, even. No suffering. There is only love. You would realize that the thing this world actually is and ever was is love. So compassion, kindness, and insight become the same thing.

Zen is very much inclusive of both of these points of view. In our discussion this month, I have been mixing and matching, putting this together in one kind of Zen synthesis. Of course, typical Zen literature does not do that, because it classically does not give very many direct teachings about these things. The idea was that when Zen practice began, it was assumed that people knew and practiced all these teachings.

So equanimity teachings are implicit always in Zen, but you almost never hear that in classical Zen. These teachings in Zen have the addition of a cautionary element that has to do with questioning language, so as not to be caught in conceptual snares. Because even good teachings like the Four Unlimiteds can become traps as soon as we conventionalize them, and we lose our beginner’s mind and make them into another thing that we are supposed to be doing. Right? We all know how we can do that. We do that all the time. You can take anything and make it into an oppressive something that we are doing to ourselves. So Zen is always cautioning against this. In Zen the idea is that you see the point of the teachings, and you don’t get stuck on the concepts and words. You get the point that the concepts and words are pointing to.

Let’s end with equanimity practice. It is a little bit involved, but I think we’re ready for this. So we will do what we have done before. I’ll ring the bell once, and we’ll start with the body and breath, and then I’ll ring the bell once at the end of each step, and twice at the very end.

[Bell]

Return to the feeling of your body and your breathing. [Pause] Feel the awareness. [Pause] If there are thoughts coming into the mind or the mind is dull, notice the space around the thoughts, around the dullness. Be with the awareness itself, and use the body and the breathing as a way of staying with the awareness itself. [Pause] The first step is to practice with the word “inseparable” – just drop that word into the awareness. And breathe with that word: inseparable. And then you can let go of that word and just breathe with that feeling.

[Bell]

Next, let’s breathe while contemplating this thought, “Whatever arises – every thought, every word, every deed, every appearance – arises from causes and conditions. There are only causes and conditions. [Pause] Whatever arises – every thought, every word, every deed, every appearance – arises from causes and conditions. There are only causes and conditions.”

[Bell]

Now we will continue to sit, contemplating this thought, “All beings are just like me. They want to be happy. They don’t want to suffer.” [Pause] All beings are just like me. They want to be happy. They don’t want to suffer.

[Bell]

Next steps are a kind of discursive, analytical meditation. I am going to speak to you and ask you to follow along with these thoughts as best you can. In this step we begin by bringing to mind someone that we really love – an uncomplicated love and positive regard. Let ourselves really feel the warmth of that love and attachment we feel to this person. [Pause] So where does that positive, wonderful feeling come from? It comes from your interactions with that person, which have been mostly positive and beneficial for you. It comes from the feelings that you have inside, based on those reactions and experiences. But where did all that come from? It came from causes and conditions. If causes and conditions did not bring you and this person together at the same time and the same place, if these causes and conditions didn’t apply, you wouldn’t feel this way. It could have been other causes and conditions, and the person that you now feel so affectionate toward would have been another person. This is not to take away the positive feeling. Just reflect on the true root of these positive feelings. It’s not really the person, it’s love itself – the endless play of causes and conditions that make up the world. That’s the actual cause of your positive feeling, not the person. The cause is the love that is the world, that is in you, and that is reality itself. This is equanimity.

[Bell]

Now let’s take a neutral person that could be a sangha friend, someone you know and appreciate, but are not particularly close to. It could be the clerk at the post office or the grocery store. Somebody you work with. In other words, somebody you have a general good feeling about, but no extra or special affection. So why isn’t there an extra or special affection for this person? It’s because of causes and conditions. Maybe some years from now the causes and conditions will be different, and this person could become one of your dearest friends. It happens. But if something really drastic happened, like something that might happen on a TV show, and you found yourself trapped somewhere with this person, and there was just the two of you there, and you only had each other for company, and you only had each other to depend on, and you could only escape to safety based on each other’s cooperation, you would become very close to this person. You would have a deep, human bond with this very person who is now just a casual person in your life. You would never forget this person as long as you lived. And you could have chosen any one of a number of people. It could have been anyone. Because causes and conditions create a bond of love between us. This is equanimity.

[Bell]

Now think of a hostile person. Somebody you really don’t appreciate. Maybe someone you know now; maybe somebody in your past; maybe somebody from years ago. Really let yourself feel your enmity for this person. Your disgust, your dislike. Don’t hold back. Just feel what you feel. If you are avoiding this one, don’t avoid it. Take a breath and plunge in, even though we don’t like feeling close to this nasty person. So what is the cause of this icky feeling? It isn’t some essence in this person. It’s things he or she did. Things he or she said. It’s deeds, words, thoughts. And where did they come from? How did they appear? They are the result of causes and conditions. They are the natural fruits of causes and conditions. Things happened in that person’s life that led them to say and do the kinds of things they say and do. Disliking the person for these behaviors is like getting mad at the stick for beating you, instead of being mad at the person who is wielding the stick. Your being mad at the stick makes no sense. You should be mad at the person who is wielding the stick. So in the case of this person that you don’t like very much, maybe who hurt you, the real object of your dislike or antipathy is not the person, who in the analogy is like the stick; it’s the bad causes and conditions that have given rise to these behaviors. That’s the problem. If there had been other causes and conditions, this same person might be your good friend, like the first person that you thought of, who you are so dear with. But if this person had those causes and conditions in your life and his or her life, it might have been a good thing for you. So transfer whatever enmity or dislike or fear you have from the person to the causes and conditions. Vow to yourself to use the energy of that dislike, that enmity, that fear, to overcome such causes and conditions, first in yourself, and then in all others you meet. Use the very energy of your hurt and your dislike to overcome these bad causes and conditions in you and everybody else that you meet. May all beings be happy. May all beings be free of suffering and the causes of suffering. May all beings, without exception, and all beings equally, enjoy loving-kindness, joy, and compassion. May I personally dedicate the rest of my life and beyond to see to it that this wish comes about. That it becomes real. Even though I can’t hope to accomplish this now, this week, this month, this decade, or even the rest of my life, I am determined. Even after my life is over, my life energy will go on to continue to contribute to this goodness, as long as time will last. Until the job is done. Make that vow to yourself, if you can. This is bodhicitta, the ultimate equanimity.

[Bell]

Finally, come back to breathing and posture. Let all of that go. You can feel how just in sitting here with your own awesome presence, it’s all still there, and it was there before. It doesn’t really need any of the words, any of the ideas. It’s there anyway. Just feel it. Breathe it. Enjoy it for a moment or two.

[Bell]

Thank you very much. Equanimity is the best!

edz

Four Immeasurables – Compassion – Talk 3 – 2010 Series

Norman speaks on Compassion, the third of the Four Immeasurables.

Compassion – Third of Four Immeasurables

By Zoketsu Norman Fischer | May 20, 2010

Transcribed and edited by Ryusen Barbara Byrum

Editor’s note: This talk contains guided meditations on compassion. You might consider pausing during the reading of the talk to do this practice. The pauses and bells that end certain stages are indicated in the text.

Compassion. This is the other side of mudita. Mudita is to feel other people’s joy. Compassion is to feel other people’s pain, other people’s suffering. After all the wonderful discussion of mudita, this might sound like a downer. Who wants to go out of their way to feel other people’s pain and suffering? Yuck! Nobody wants to feel pain. It’s so much nicer to feel pleasure, and then to increase our feelings of pleasure by feeling other people’s pleasure. That seems to be the natural thing in life, right? To seek some happiness and some pleasure and to avoid some unhappiness, some pain.

So compassion, in a way, at first glance, seems like a bad idea. Evolution is the seeking of thriving, well-being, positive states. Creatures seem to be programmed for that, including us. To seek for something that is unpleasant, like suffering, seems really twisted and strange. Who would want to do that? Is it a good idea? It seems unnatural in a way. And yet, when you say, “Is compassion a good idea?” most people would say, “Compassion is so wonderful. It touches my heart. It is so beautiful.” So we like compassion, even though we all understand that compassion is opening ourselves to other peoples’ pain.

So why would that be? I think the reason for it is because the feeling of compassion is so close to the feeling of love. I think we understand that these two things completely depend on each other. The idea that we could love somebody, but then if something went wrong with them, and we had a bad feeling and ignored them and wanted to get away from them – I think we are all smart enough to know that there isn’t going to be any love if that happens.

We all get it that love is something very powerful. We all want love, so we all get it that compassion is very close to love. In fact, love depends on compassion, because you can’t love someone if you’re not willing to be there with them in their suffering. Even that in itself, just being willing to feel someone’s suffering, if you care about them – that is already love, right? Compassion, in a way, even though it is associated with suffering, feels good, because it already is love.

So it’s strange. The whole way that we set things up in our mind seems not to be exactly the case because, although you know that suffering is negative, the feeling of love that you have when feeling the suffering of someone you care about is – in a different way, and a more important way – pleasant. So, oddly, love and compassion, and what’s pleasant and what’s painful, seem to be really closely associated, to the point of almost being the same thing. It’s kind of odd, when you think about it.

We have all these different words and ideas: pain, pleasure, compassion, love. We make these distinctions because we believe that thinking and feeling are characterized by opposition. Distinction and opposition are how we experience things. But the closer we look at our actual experiences, the less distinct and the less firm these different distinctions are. If we are caught by them before feeling them deeply enough and experiencing them deeply enough – by being attached to what is pleasant and being averse to or afraid of what is painful – we could really mess ourselves up. Once you get the hang of the real complexity and richness of your human experience, you realize that things are just not that simple. Self-protection and grasping pleasant feelings turn out to be bad strategies for happiness; whereas, opening up the self to all feelings – whether one’s own or those of others, pleasant as well as unpleasant – turns out to be a much richer and truer way to live. So generating compassion, which allows us to feel suffering, is a necessary practice for opening ourselves to real love and genuine happiness.

In studying the Four Unlimited Abodes, we keep coming back, over and over, to Buddha’s central insight that the difference between self and other is more a conceptual habit than an ultimate reality. It turns out, quite strangely and paradoxically, that the most selfish thing is the most altruistic thing. If you really want to be selfish about your own happiness, love everybody. That’s the way to be happy. It’s a strange thing, but that is really what it comes down to in actual experience.

Avalokiteshwara, as you all know, the speaker in the Heart Sutra, is the bodhisattva of compassion, and yet it is Avalokiteshwara who teaches us that all dharmas are marked with emptiness. They do not appear and do not disappear. Suffering and the end of suffering are empty. This is the great secret of compassion and what makes a wide and deep feeling for the suffering of other people – and for all of us collectively – sustainable. Avalokiteshwara sees the pain of the world and hears the cries of the world, and yet she remains serene, because her hearing and her vision are unimpeded by limited objects. She knows that there are no eyes, no ears, no nose, no object of sight, no object of sound – nothing to impede the free flow of love. Even suffering does not impede it. Her heart is wide open. She feels all of the suffering. But she understands that that’s okay. Everything is lightened by and sustained by emptiness. The unbearable is bearable. The pain is the love. All things are suffering, even the things that don’t look like they are. And all suffering is peace.

You could see that the near enemy of compassion is despair. You open your heart to suffering. You start looking around, and pass this person in front of you, who is suffering, and the next person and the next person and the next person, and when you look far enough, you could see a lot of suffering. And this could result in despair. But despair is not the same as compassion. I think this is what blocks our compassion: we’re afraid that if we were really to open ourselves to suffering, even the suffering of one person, even the suffering of ourselves – maybe especially the suffering of ourselves – we wouldn’t be able to stand it. We would start feeling that things are completely hopeless, and then we would be plunged into despair, depression, hopelessness, and our heads would explode. So we feel we should protect ourselves from this eventuality. Better not to think too much about people suffering. Better not to think about people being killed in Afghanistan, or the unbelievable, horrible things that go on as a matter of course, every day, in almost every country of Africa. Better not to think about that. Who knows how many ocean creatures – fish and mammals – have been harmed in this oil spill in the Gulf, that nobody seems to want to say how extensive it is? Let’s not think about it. Too much! Too much! Too much! The virtual impossibility of our ever slowing down, let alone reversing, the pace of climate change: let’s not think about it too much. Even our one friend or two friends or three friends, who are dying of cancer right now – too much. We could fall into despair easily. It could be too much for us.

So, as I always like to point out, meditation practice is extremely humbling. That’s its great virtue, I think. It is very humbling to sit there on our cushions. If we are honest about it, and if we open to what’s going on, we can’t help but notice all of our fear, all of our confusion, all of our anguish, and all of our jealousy and rage and cynicism. Everything. It’s all there. Just sit down long enough, and you see it all. At first we feel humiliated or wonder what’s wrong with us. “My practice is not going well. I should be better. I thought I was a pretty nice person before, but now I am really wondering about myself! How come I’m not any better than this?” But then it dawns on us, “Oh, this is just everybody’s ordinary, everyday stuff. This is just being human – whatever is there, good or bad.” It’s just being human. There is suffering built right into the middle of it. We’ll see that on our cushions.

This is exactly the root of compassion. As I suffer, so do all beings suffer. As all beings suffer, so do I. We all have bodies and minds. Because we have a body, we all want to be healthy and attractive and young forever, but that is not going to happen. Because we have minds and feelings, we want to be joyful and satisfied and ebullient all the time, and it’s not going to be like that. In other words, because we have bodies and minds, we have expectations and needs, and they are sometimes dashed. And sometimes unpleasant feelings will arise, and then we’re going to suffer. Of course, bad social conditions, bad physical conditions will bring on suffering; but even if there weren’t any bad social conditions, even if there weren’t any bad physical conditions, even if there wasn’t any poverty, even if everybody was really nice, there would still be suffering.

When I am willing to recognize my own suffering and understand its root causes, the natural consequence of this is compassion. I stop condemning myself, I feel compassionate for myself, and I feel compassionate for others. I see the difference between having compassion for myself and for others. It is very slight. There is really no difference at all. Compassion is the way that we connect with our own lives. It’s the way that we connect with each other. Far from being something to fear, suffering turns out to be our great human treasure. We may not like it all the time, but we know that it is necessary for us, and that it’s good for us, because it brings us closest to reality. It brings us closest to love. So it is a very good idea to generate compassion. It’s very gritty and rough, but it is very good.

Buddhadharma magazine just came in the mail. There is a whole section called “Loving Deeply, Loving More.” So I thought that for the rest of my talk, we could do some practices, and I wanted to read some things that are written here in Buddhadharma magazine. The great contemporary master of the compassion teachings in Buddhism is Pema Chodron, whose books we all know, I’m sure. So let me read you what she says about compassion. Here she’s talking about Tonglen practice, and then we will do some Tonglen practices, and a few other practices, all for the purpose of generating and understanding compassion a little better.

So here is what she says in this current issue of the Buddhadharma magazine:

In order to have compassion for others, we have to have compassion for ourselves. In particular, to care about other people who are angry, fearful, jealous, overcome by addictions of all kinds, arrogant, proud, miserly, selfish, mean – you name it. To have compassion and care for these people means not to run from the pain of finding these things in ourselves. In fact, one’s whole attitude toward pain can change. Instead of fending it off and hiding from it, one can open one’s heart and allow oneself to feel that pain, feel it as something that will soften and purify us, and make us far more loving and kind.

Tonglen practice is a method for connecting with suffering – ours and that which is all around us, everywhere we go. It is a method for overcoming fear of suffering and for dissolving the tightness of our heart. Primarily it is a method for awakening the compassion that is inherent in all of us, no matter how cruel or cold we might seem to be.

We begin the practice by taking on the suffering of a person whom we know to be hurting and whom we wish to help. For instance, if you know of a child who is being hurt, you breathe in the wish to take away all the pain and fear of that child. And then as you breathe out, you send out happiness, joy, or whatever would relieve their pain. This is the core of the practice: breathing in others’ pain, so that they can have more space to relax and open, and breathing out, sending them relaxation or whatever you feel would bring them relief and happiness.

However, we often cannot do this, because we come face to face with our own fear, our own resistance, our own anger, or whatever our personal pain, or our personal stuckness happens to be at that moment. So at that point in the practice, you should change the focus and begin to do Tonglen for what you are feeling – your resistance to your practice of Tonglen. Do Tonglen with that resistance! And also for yourself, and the millions of others who – just like you – are feeling the same stuckness and the same misery.

So, in other words, “I can’t do this; this is too hard,” doesn’t make any sense. If you can’t do this because it is too hard, you breathe in, “I can’t do this; this is too hard,” with compassion, and you remember at that moment that many others are also feeling that way. You breathe in for yourself and them, and then you breathe out relief.

So you breathe it in for all the people caught with that emotion, and you send out relief for whatever opens up the space for yourself and all these countless others. Maybe you can’t name what you are feeling, but you can feel it. A tightness in the stomach, a heavy darkness – whatever. Just contact what you are feeling and breathe in, take it in for all of us, and send out relief for all of us.

So let’s practice this for a bit, if you will. We’ve done this before, but I don’t think we have exhausted it so far. So let’s begin with someone we know who is sick. Many of our sangha members are ill right now. I can think of several that I want to practice with. Think of someone who is really in need of compassion, in need of support. Whether physically ill, or some pain or anguish. Imagine the person. The next time you breathe in, physically breathe in their suffering – their anguish, their pain, their disease, even – as a dark, smoky substance that comes in through your nostrils and all the pores of your body. Bring it in through your breath, and through the power of the Buddha-nature that pervades your body, transform it, so that when you breathe out, you are able to breathe out light and ease and relief and relaxation and acceptance. It just flows out of you toward the person. Let’s keep practicing with that person, breathing in darkness, and breathing out light.

[Pause]

If there is more than one, you can go from one person to another. And, as Pema says, if you feel some resistance when you do this, some fear, then breathe that in. Breathe in not only your own fear and resistance, but the fear and resistance that beings all over the world are feeling in this very moment, just as you’re feeling. Breathe in the dark smoke and feel this light, easeful acceptance, flowing out in all directions. All around.

[Bell]

Now let us practice with all of us sitting in the room, breathing in the suffering of each other, breathing out ease and relief. Whatever unfulfilled hopes, whatever wounds, whatever fears, breathe it all in, breathing out healing and relief.

[Pause]

And then let’s extend that through the walls of the building, the ceiling, the floor, so that our awareness takes in all the beings everywhere – in all directions, above, below, and all around, without limit. Whatever anguish, whatever pain, whatever illness – breathing in all the suffering as a dark substance, transforming it into light and ease and compassion. Sending the exhale into limitless space, in all directions, coming out of every pore of our bodies. If this seems too hard to do, and we feel frightened and just can’t do it, then breathe in that limitation for ourselves and for everyone else who feels it. Breathing out healing and acceptance of it.

[Bell]

Now following the sequence that we have been doing, think of someone who is difficult for you, someone with whom your human relations are stuck or fractured or not happy. Maybe someone who has hurt you. It could be someone now, or it could be someone long ago. Recognize that whatever this person’s actions or character, it all comes as a result of suffering. So allow yourself to breathe in that person’s suffering, a dark suffering, and breathe out ease and relief. If there is limitation or resistance, breathe that in. Just continue to practice.

[Bell]

Now let’s practice with ourselves. Breathe in your own pain – your physical pain, your emotional pain, your longing, your anguish, your wounds. Can you actually breathe them in and say, “Yes, I will actually take this in”? Transform it in your body and breathe out ease and lightness and relief and healing for yourself.

[Bell]

One more practice. This one is elaborate and hard to do, maybe. It’s a Tibetan Buddhist practice of generating compassion, and it involves a lot of visualization, which I find very hard to do. Maybe some of you are used to it. So what I will do is I will slowly read to you the steps that you are supposed to be visualizing. If you can do that, then do it. If not, then just listen, and do the best you can. It is very beautiful. This is from Alan Wallace’s book, The Four Unlimiteds, in his compassion chapter:

Begin with your motivation that you would really like to alleviate the suffering of others. That is really the effort you are making in your practice, to practice in such a way that you find happiness yourself and do that by alleviating the suffering of others. That’s your motivation for your practice in general and this practice in particular.

Imagine, now, that you are seeing in front of you, in your mind’s eye, Avalokiteshwara full of light and joyful. Imagine Avalokiteshwara in front of you, and she is looking at you with warmth and affection and love. She is the embodiment of the compassion that you would like to feel. The mantra associated with Avalokiteshwara is Om Mani Padme Hum, which means the jewel of awakening is right there, the lotus that grows out of the mud of suffering. Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Mani Padme Hum.

As you repeat that mantra – maybe you are seeing it somehow inside – you imagine a cascade of light coming out of Avalokiteshwara’s head. It flows and arcs over and goes inside your head. It flows down your body, and your whole body is saturated, every cell of your body, Now, very politely, you ask Avalokiteshwara if she wouldn’t mind shrinking down to around one inch in size, and in that size would she mind sitting on the top of your head, facing the same direction that your face is facing. You can imagine tiny, light-infused Avalokiteshwara sitting on top of your head.

Now imagine that your heart is a soft, glowing, white lotus. Invite Avalokiteshwara on top of your head to come down there inside your heart and sit inside that lotus. And she does. She sits there. Imagine a tiny, pure, radiant point of white light in Avalokiteshwara’s heart, sitting on that lotus inside of your heart. This is the light of your own Buddha-nature. And now it begins to radiate out in all directions and fills your whole body and flows out of your body through every pore, reaching out without limit throughout all of space and to all the beings living there. As soon as it touches every being, it removes their suffering and the source of their suffering. It touches every human being, every animal. It just keeps going around the globe, beyond this world even. The whole universe is infused with this light.

Imagine the light coming back now to your body, where Avalokiteshwara sits in your heart. Let your body dissolve into the body of Avalokiteshwara. Let the body of Avalokiteshwara dissolve into that point of light in the middle of her heart. Let this point of light dissolve into empty space. Now let the empty space resolve itself into your body again – softly glowing light, serene, and strong. Within this body, feel the movements of energy as you breathe. Then rejoin the practice just to feel your breath.

Could you do that? It’s nice, isn’t it?