Knowing the Enemy (Pema Chödrön)

This is the eighth in the series of posts based on Pema Chödrön and accompanied by Chopin. It completes the first half of her book on living fearlessly. Previous posts in reverse order discussed equanimity, empathetic joy, practicing compassion, loving-kindness & compassion, learning to stay, three lords of materialism and bodhicitta.

We build further on the four immeasurable qualities of the kind heart: (1) loving-kindness (maitri), (2) compassion (karuna), (3) joy in the joy of others (mudita), and (4) equanimity (upekkha). I would like to challenge you to take this quiz before reading on. Please share your own answers in the comments.

1. What is the opposite of love, kindness and friendship? What resembles love, kindness and friendship, but is not love?

2. What is the opposite of compassion, warmth and support for one who is suffering? What resembles compassion, warmth and support for one suffering, but is not compassion?

3. What is the opposite of joy in the joy of others? What resembles joy, but is not joy?

4. What is the opposite of equanimity? What resembles equanimity, but is not equanimity?

The music is Chopin's Nocturne Op. 48 No. 1 recorded on piano rolls at the beginning of the twentieth century by the best of her generation, the American Fanny Bloomfield.

Later, I will leave you with Chopin's Waltz No. 2 Op. 64 played by the enchanting young Chinese-American pianist Yuja Wang of the current generation, but now it's over to Pema Chödrön:

~*~

The essence of bravery is being without self-deception. A warrior takes responsibility for the direction of her life. Our training encourages us to open and see any baggage we might be carrying. There is a traditional teaching that helps us in this process: the near and far enemies of the four limitless qualities.

1. The near enemy or misunderstanding of loving-kindness is attachment. There's a Tibetan word lhenchak that describes this well. Lhenchak points at how free-flowing love can get stuck. It is taught that the strongest lhenchak occurs in the following relationships: between parents and children, between lovers, and between spiritual teachers and their students. Lhenchak is characterised by clinging and self-involvement. Loving-kindness is different. It is not based on need, but a genuine appreciation and care for the well-being of another person and a respect for their value. Loving even a flower without lhenchak means we see it more clearly and feel more tenderness for its inherent perfection.

The far enemy or opposite of loving-kindness is hatred or aversion. Aversion isolates us from others. It strengthens the illusion that we are separate. However, in the tightness and heat of hatred is the soft spot of bodhicitta.

2. There are three near enemies of compassion: pity, overwhelm and idiot compassion. True compassion does not debilitate us with the emotion of sadness, but opens us up to the possibilities of what we can do.

Pity or professional warmth is easily mistaken for true compassion. When we identify ourselves as the helper, it means we see others as helpless. Instead of feeling the pain of others, we set ourselves apart. If we've ever been on the receiving end of pity, we know how it feels. Instead of warmth and support, all we feel is distance.

Overwhelm is a sense of helplessness. We feel that there is so much suffering — whatever we do is to no avail. We've become discouraged. There are two ways I've found effective in working with overwhelm. One is to train with a less challenging subject. Starting with something workable can be powerful magic. When we find the place where our heart stays engaged, the compassion begins to spread by itself. The second is to keep our attention on the other person. This takes more courage. Sometimes we should trust our sense of panic, but sometimes instead of turning inwards and closing down, we might let the storyline go and feel the energy of the pain in our body for a second. If this is not possible, we engender compassion for our current limitations.

The third near enemy of compassion is idiot compassion, when we try to avoid conflict and protect our good image, being kind when we should say a definite "no". In order not to break our vow of compassion, we have to learn when to stop aggression and draw the line, how to set boundaries and not allow our ideals to justify self-abasement.

The far enemy of compassion is cruelty. Brooker T. Washington was right when he said, "Let no man pull you so low as to make you hate him." Cruelty when rationalised or unacknowledged destroys us.
 
3. The near enemy of joyfulness is over-excitement. We can mistake riding high above the sorrows of the world for unconditional joy. Instead of connecting us with others, this separates us. Authentic joy is not a euphoric state. Rather, it is a state of appreciation that allows us to participate fully in our lives.

The far enemy of joy is envy. Some say it is also cynicism, despair or boredom. It is amazing to see how frequently we can react to others' success with resentment. The realisation is humbling. It is because these practices expose our hidden flaws that we are sometimes reluctant to do them. But that's why we must do them: it takes practice to stick with ourselves as we are, in our totality.

4. The near enemy of equanimity is detachment or indifference. Emotional upheaval is where the warrior learns compassion. It's where we learn to stop struggling with ourselves. It's only when we can dwell in these places that scare us that equanimity becomes unshakeable.

The far enemy of equanimity is prejudice. We get self-righteous about our beliefs and set ourselves solidly for or against. Taking sides, we become closed-minded. As we start training in opening our hearts, we get a close look at prejudice and indifference.
 
The enemies are good teachers. They show us we can accept ourselves and others complete with imperfections.

 

aspara121: Many thanks for your quality posts. I look forward to savoring each one. :)
_()_

satshanti: I thought there was no "enemy". I thought Pema and Tantra Buddhism taught the acceptance experiencing of everything to attain the Whole. Why not experience "attachment" as a "friend" coming to show where we are stuck? Why present the experience as a dualistic us-vs-them me-and-"enemy" dichotomy? That seems like a continuing of the dualistic problem rather than accepting accepting accepting experiencing experiencing experiencing - and watching the energy attachment relax dissipate fatigue let go - and then seeing false confused assumptions under the energies. Freedom acceptance presence mindfulness peace...

okei: From the section about the far enemy of equanimity: "Taking sides, we become closed-minded. As we start training in opening our hearts, we get a close look at prejudice and indifference..." There is no enemy. Sorry if I didn't stress that.

The "near enemy" she describes as the misunderstanding of... and the "far enemy" as the opposite of... they are our friends and teachers, so long as we recognize them for what they are. We are not trying to get rid of them as you say, but let their storylines go and rest with the energy. Well said, Peter.

satshanti: _()_

irishgall13: okei said: What is the opposite of love, kindness and friendship? What resembles love, kindness and friendship, but is not love? 
Fear. Fear of trusting your heart of love to another.

Fear of the vulnerability.

Just fear.

okei: Good point Marie!

I was looking through all the opposites, and the root of every single one is fear. Hatred, cruelty, envy/cynicism and prejudice all come from a feeling of a relationship to the outside world based on fear of the other...

The near enemies: attachment, pity, over-excitement and indifference could also be related to fear, but fear of oneself, of fulfilling our true nature.

 

The blog & comments originally appeared on Buddhist Travelers

Boundless Equanimity (Pema Chödrön)

This is the seventh in our series of teachings from Pema Chödrön's "The Places that Scare You" accompanied by the music of Chopin. In previous posts, we discussed the first three of the four immeasurables: loving-kindness, compassion and empathetic joy, but it is the fourth – equanimity – that pushes the other three to the limits, and makes them limitless. In boundless equanimity, we have the transcendence of the extreme middle. 

Spinoza once wrote about how fame, fortune and pleasure were the pursuit of almost all men, but he chose to dare a different aim, renouncing these three. Little did he know of Buddhist teachings on equanimity which name exactly these, but also a fourth which, being a recluse, Spinoza had quite forgotten. Can you guess it? It was praise! Wanting these, and wanting to avoid their opposites, the eight worldly dharmas are fame & disgrace, gain & loss, pleasure & pain, praise & neglect. These eight traps, Atisha said, "make a person weak" and so his 48th lojong slogan reads: "Train without bias in all areas. It is crucial to always do this pervasively & whole-heartedly". We must take our practice into daily life!

Remember these eight and we begin to see how caught up we are in our selfish or selfless (projected) egos. The four pairs correspond to four types of ego: the idol, the idolator, the master and the slave, depending on whether desire's fulfilment is passive or active, and its orientation for self or for other. In the gap between self and other, between passive and active, the ego has no place to grasp. But in the meantime, it is forever reaching for one or other of these four corners, trying or wishing to satisfy our own or others' expectations. So long as we let it, the wheel of worldly dharmas keeps going round! 

I leave you with Chopin's Fantasie in F minor (Op. 49) played by the serene Arturo Michelangeli to accompany Chödrön's teaching.
 

By practicing maitri, compassion, and rejoicing, we are training in thinking bigger, in opening up as wholeheartedly as we can to ourselves, to our friends, and even to the people we dislike. We are cultivating the unbiased state of equanimity. Without this fourth boundless quality, the other three are limited by our habit of liking and disliking, accepting and rejecting.

Whenever someone asked a certain Zen master how he was, he would always answer, "I'm okay." Finally, one of his students said, "Roshi, how can you always be okay? Don't you ever have a bad day?" The Zen master answered, "Sure I do. On bad days, I'm okay. On good days, I'm also okay." This is equanimity. 

The traditional image of equanimity is a banquet to which everyone is invited. Training in equanimity is learning to open the door to all, welcoming all beings, inviting life to come visit. Of course, as certain guests arrive, we’ll feel fear and aversion. We allow ourselves to open the door just a crack if that’s all that we can presently do, and we allow ourselves to shut the door when necessary. Cultivating equanimity is a work in progress. We aspire to spend our lives training in the loving-kindness and courage that it takes to receive whatever appears – sickness, health, poverty, wealth, sorrow, and joy. We welcome and get to know them all.

That we hope to get what we want and fear losing what we have — this describes our habitual predicament. The Buddhist teachings identify eight variations on this tendency to hope and fear: pleasure and pain, praise and blame, gain and loss, fame and disgrace. As long as we're caught in one of these extremes, the potential for the other is always there. They just chase each other round. No lasting happiness comes from being caught in this cycle of attraction and aversion.

To cultivate equanimity, we practice catching ourselves when we feel attraction or aversion before it hardens into grasping or negativity. Whatever arises, no matter how bad it feels, can be used to extend our kinship to others who, just like us, get hooked by hope and fear. This is how we come to appreciate that everyone's in the same boat. If we can contact the vulnerability and rawness of resentment, rage or whatever we may experience, then a bigger perspective can emerge. Abiding with the energy, instead of acting it out or repressing it, we are training in equanimity, in thinking bigger than right and wrong. This is how all the four limitless qualities emerge from limited to limitless: we practice catching our mind hardening into fixed views and do our best to soften. Through softening, the barriers come down.

An on-the-spot equanimity practice is to walk down the street with the intention of staying as awake as possible to whomever we meet. This is training in being emotionally honest with ourselves. As we pass people we simply notice whether we open up or shut down. We notice if we feel attraction, aversion or indifference without adding anything extra like self-judgment. We can take the practice even further by using what comes up as the basis for empathy and understanding. Closed feelings become an opportunity to remember that others also get caught this way. Open states connect us very personally with the people we meet. Either way, we are stretching our hearts.

As with the other limitless qualities, equanimity may be practiced formally in seven stages, extending our aspiration in ever-widening circles. In culmination, through all time and space, "may all beings dwell in the great equanimity, free from passion, aggression, and prejudice". We can also do equanimity practice before beginning the loving-kindness or compassion practices, reflecting on the pain caused by grasping and aversion, by our fear of losing happiness, by feeling that certain people are not worthy of our compassion or love. Then we can wish for the strength and courage to feel unlimited maitri and unlimited compassion for all beings without exception, including those we dislike and fear. With this intention, we begin the seven-step practices.

The Maitri Sutra says, "With a boundless mind, one could cherish all living beings, radiating friendliness over the entire world, above, below, and all around without limit." Limitless equanimity is not an empty smoothing, rather it is a matter of being fully engaged to whatever comes up, to being fully alive. Training in equanimity requires that we leave behind some baggage: the comfort of rejecting whole parts of our experience, for example, and welcoming only what is pleasant. The courage to continue with this unfolding process comes from self-compassion and giving ourselves plenty of time. If we continue to practice in this way over the months and years, we will feel our hearts and minds grow bigger. When people ask me how long this will take, I say, "at least until you die".

Recognizing the limit of this life, 
we recognize the truth of dukkha.

Recognizing the passing of this single breath, 

we see behind to the eternal and limitless.

Witnessing self empty of desire which created it, 

we melt into anatta.

The blog originally appeared on Buddhist Travelers.

Joyful Practice (Pema Chödrön)

This is a continuation of the teachings of Pema Chödrön, accompanied by the music of Chopin. The focus is on the third boundless quality: finding joy. The music is Chopin's Ballade No. 2.
 

"Let the flower of compassion blossom in the rich soil of maitri, and water it with the good water of equanimity in the cool refreshing shade of joy." (Longchenpa)

As we practice, we gradually feel more joy, a fundamental openness which we begin to trust and a happiness which is completely devoid of clinging or craving. This is joy without a hangover!

How do we cultivate the conditions for this joy to expand? We train in staying present. In meditation, we train in mindfulness and maitri, steadfast with our bodies, emotions and thoughts. We stay with our little plot of earth, and instead of looking for a more comfortable place to be, we turn the soil with patience, trusting that it can be cultivated, and confident that we can deal with any rocks we might uncover. The joy comes from not giving up, and experiencing our great warrior spirit.

Joyful training has nothing to do with goals and achievements. We can begin by rejoicing in our smallest blessings. By taking care of ordinary things – our pots and pans, our clothing, our teeth – we rejoice in them. This combination of mindfulness and appreciation connects us fully with our reality and brings us joy. When we extend this to others, our experience of joy expands. Watching Trungpa Rinpoche set the table for breakfast one morning was like watching someone arrange flowers or create a stage-set. He took such care and delight in placing every detail. Since then, even though I usually only have a few minutes, I appreciate the ritual of setting the table as an opportunity to be present and rejoice. Everything we see, hear, taste and smell has the power to strengthen and uplift us. As Longchenpa says, the quality of joy is like finding cool, refreshing shade.

We can go on to practice empathetic joy or mudita, rejoicing that a person who was ill is now feeling healthy and cheerful, or a child who was lonely now has a friend. We are encouraged to try to keep it simple. The point is to find our spontaneous and natural capacity to be glad for another being, whether it feels unshakeable or fleeting. This aspiration to rejoice can feel feeble compared to our resentment, envy or self-pity. We know how easy it is for these emotions to hook us and shut us down, so when we get caught it is helpful to remember the teachings, to contemplate the causes of our suffering, and to use insight to break through our barriers.

Rather than struggling with and nurturing our dissatisfaction, we can go to the non-verbal experience of the emotion. What’s happening in our heart, our shoulder, our gut? Abiding with the physical sensation is radically different from sticking to the story-line. It is a way of relaxing and softening, so the joyful ground of our basic goodness can shine through.

Once a cook at Gampo Abbey was feeling very unhappy. Like most of us, she kept feeding the gloom with her actions and her thoughts; hour by hour her mood was getting darker. She decided to try to ventilate her escalating emotions by baking chocolate chip cookies. Her plan backfired, however - she burned them all to a crisp. At that point, rather than dump the burned cookies in the garbage, she stuffed them into her pockets and backpack and went out for a walk. She trudged along the dirt road, her head hanging down and her mind burning with resentment. She was saying to herself, 'So where's all the beauty and magic I keep hearing about?'

"At that moment she looked up. There walking toward her was a little fox. Her mind stopped and she held her breath and watched. The fox sat down right in front of her, gazing up expectantly. She reached into her pockets and pulled out some cookies. The fox ate them and slowly trotted away. She told this story to all of us at the abbey, saying: 'I learned today that life is very precious. Even when we're determined to block the magic, it will get through and wake us up. That little fox taught me that no matter how shut down we get, we can always look outside our cocoon and connect with joy."
"To make things as easy as possible to understand, we can summarize the four boundless qualities in the single phrase "a kind heart". Just train yourself to have a kind heart always and in all situations." (Patrul Rinpoche)

We can do a version of tonglen practice described in the last post whenever we experience feelings of joy or pain. If we feel ourselves closing down on our pain, then we can breathe into our heart with the recognition that others feel this pain also. When we experience pleasure or tenderness, we can cherish and rejoice in it, and wish that others could experience it also. When life is pleasant, think of others. When life is a burden, think of others. If this is the only training we remember to do, it will benefit us tremendously and others also.

A woman wrote me about practicing with her daily misery in traffic, and through this practice, she had developed a kinship with those around her and even looked forward to her daily “traffic jam tonglen”. To make these connections is an act of bravery, which is what it will take to heal ourselves and our brothers and sisters on the planet.

Even the simplest things can be the basis for the practice – a beautiful morning, a good meal, a shower. Although there are many such ordinary moments in our days, we usually speed right past them. So the first step is to stop, notice and appreciate what is happening. Even this is revolutionary! Then share the joy.

Video: Chopin's Ballade No. 2 played by Tzi-Huei Lai.


aspara121: Beautiful music by Chopin. Excellent teaching by Pema Chodron. Thank you for posting these little treasures at BT, Okei. Each one is real pleasure to read and contemplate. :)
_()_

lilleke80: This resonated with me first cause I love Chopin, second cause I love Pema, third cause I had a small incident of synchronicity that will always stay with me- feeling joyous, starting my walk home, seeing a sign "felicity fox" and straight after seeing a fox beside me who followed me home like a faithful companion. It taught me one thing- if you are present then everything is a symphony, everything manifests, everything follows from the joy of yourself. Thanks okei!

kityhawk99: lilleke80 wrote: "if you are present then everything is a symphony, everything manifests, everything follows from the joy of yourself. "

(((♥ )))


Thanks Okie, I do enjoy Pema Chodron and Chopin, very much. 

okei: Thank you Carrie, Hille & Lin! Sorry I didn't get to a computer sooner...

Thanks especially for sharing that lovely story!!!

The blog originally appeared on Buddhist Travelers.

Healing Self and Others with Spacious Mind (Pema Chödrön)

This is a technique in Pema Chödrön's wonderful book "The Places that Scare You", accompanied by Chopin's Nocturne in C minor. 

Can you expand your mind to be wide and open like the sky, and then breathe in something that causes pain, drop its storyline, just witness its energy, learning not to fear it, and in exchange breathe out happiness, relief and healing from suffering for one and all, including yourself? Not for the faint-hearted, this is the essence of the Tibetan bodhicitta practice of Tonglen through which we come face-to-face and work with the nature and reality of suffering and self. Unpeeling the layers of our pain, uncovered at its heart lies Buddha-nature and Buddha-reality, for enfolded in our own ignorance lies wisdom.

In the last post, we discussed loving-kindness and compassion, and their formal practice in seven expanding circles of self, loved ones, friends, others, enemies, all the above, and all sentient beings. A different form of this practice, which exists in Tibetan Buddhism, involves healing by creating an internal spaciousness of mind and through this space exchanging oneself with others. It is known as Tonglen, which literally means "sending and taking". It would be interesting to compare it with the Hawaiian healing practice of Ho'oponopono. The latter is based on the belief that we are all inter-connected, and thus all responsible, so if we look to the place in our hearts that another suffers and say, "I love you, I'm sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you", then through healing this place in our own hearts we can also heal another. Our friend Jon once described this as not taking on another's pain, but as opening a door in one's heart to facilitate another to resolve their pain themselves. How does this compare with Tonglen? Could the two techniques be used together? Is there actually a healing effect? You decide…
 

Pema Chödrön: The formal practice of Tonglen has four stages. The first stage is a brief moment of openness or stillness, a moment of unconditional bodhicitta. It is difficult to describe, but relates to the Buddhist concept of shunyata or emptiness. Emotionally, it is the infinite feeling of being able to accommodate anything and allowing energy to move through us without blocking or freezing it, relaxing to its dynamic flux and having the confidence and trust not to struggle, interpret or close down on it. Many of us have no idea what this flashing openness is supposed to feel like. My first experience of it was simple and direct. In the hall where I was meditating, a large fan hummed loudly. After a while, I no longer noticed the sound, it was so ongoing. But then the fan abruptly stopped and there was a gap; a wide-open silence. That was my introduction to shunyata! To flash openness, some people visualise a vast ocean or a cloudless sky, any image that conveys unlimited expansiveness. Just listening to the sound of a gong can act as a reminder of open mind. The flash is relatively short. We just touch in briefly and then go on.

In the second stage, we begin to breathe in the qualities of claustrophobia: thick, heavy and hot, however we may visualise it (as coal dust or yellow smog!), and then we breathe out the qualities of spaciousness: fresh, light and cool, perhaps as moonlight, or sun sparkling in the water, or the colours of the rainbow, or whatever seems appropriate. However we visualise these textures, we imagine breathing them in and out through all the pores of our body, not only through our mouth and nose, until we find a rhythm to the practice, giving the in and out-breath equal time.

In stage three, we start doing the exchange for a specific person. We breathe in this person's pain and we send out relief, initially for those who spontaneously spark our compassion. Instead of closing our hearts to their pain, or clinging on to comforting feelings of bravery and openness, instead we open our hearts and share our relief, reversing ancient habits of doing the opposite. This is an especially powerful and empowering practice for those in hospitals recovering from illness, to overcome the shame, fear and isolation of their condition. Aspiring to keep our heart open, we know it won't always be possible, but we trust that if we do Tonglen the best we can, our ability to feel compassion will gradually expand. After a while, it becomes impossible to know if we are practicing for our own benefit or for the benefit of others. These distinctions begin to break down.

When practicing Tonglen for a specific individual, we always include a fourth stage, which is extending the compassion to everyone in the same predicament. We start with something particular and genuine, and then widen the circle as far as we can.

Having familiarised yourself with the process, I recommend using Tonglen as an on-the-spot practice during our daily life. There is nothing theoretical about the subject matter in daily life. When an uncomfortable feeling arises or someone is hurting, we train ourselves in breathing in and dropping the story line. At the same time, we extend our thoughts and concern to all others who feel the same discomfort, breathing in with the wish they be free from it, and breathing out sending whatever kind of relief we think could help.

It is also helpful to notice anything in our daily life that brings us happiness. As soon as we become aware of it, we can think of sharing it with others, further cultivating the Tonglen attitude. Does it help the other side of the world that someone cares? There are no guarantees. Tonglen is not at all metaphysical. It's simple and very human. We can do it and discover for ourselves what happens. 

Video: Chopin's Nocturne in C minor played by Valentina Igoshina.

provencepuss: that is a real challenge...and no, right now I don't think I can but I wish I could

okei: It does seem like quite an advanced practice! The awakening of bodhicitta is not called a warrior path for nothing, but yes, perhaps it's best to start with something easier. Or maybe some might enjoy trying to jump into the deep end? Either way, it must be something we can genuinely get to grips with so we can sense some kind of progress instead of posing an insurmountable challenge. Or maybe the insurmountability is the point? I'm glad though that the techniques of Buddhist traditions are available to a wider audience and not kept secret among elite mystic circles.

Although Pema Chödrön describes this process as not being abstract at all, I wonder if making it abstract to start with would make it easier... for example breathing in the notes of Chopin's very sad nocturne through all the pores of our body, and then breathing out a sense of beauty?

kathycustren: This technique is clearly "mind over matter." We are impressed by how impossible something appears, but when we manage to "do the impossible," it turns out to not be as hard as we think at first. The deep end of the pool, for sure.

I agree with your comment about the techniques being available to a wider audience. This kind of helpful compassion is definitely needed. Thanks so much for sharing it. Namaste ~ Blessings!

okei: Indeed! I hadn't thought of it like that... or even "heart over matter".

On the subject of availability, it occurred to me that perhaps part of the reason is because the original traditions being in such precarious circumstances (Tibet is so remote, few are experts in Pali), hence the real motivation to translate, make more widely available and preserve. Even if few continue to practice the live tradition, the written word that is dead has the potential to be re-awakened and made alive again by others.

aspara121: Beautiful post! Thanks, Okei! :)

_()_

kityhawk99: "Emotionally, it is the infinite feeling of being able to accommodate anything and allowing energy to move through us without blocking or freezing it, relaxing to its dynamic flux and having the confidence and trust not to struggle, interpret or close down on it "

Thanks Okie....I really enjoyed this reading accompanied by Chopin's Music.

Be Well !!

lilyrupiana: Thanks for sharing this, Okei!

mysticmaze: Thanks for providing the link, Okei.... enjoyed reading this....

okei: Thanks all for reading. :) I forgot to add the Shantideva quote that introduced this chapter in Chödrön's book:

In joy and sorrow, all are equal,
Thus be guardian of all, as of yourself. 

—Shantideva

mysticmaze: Beautiful addition.

The blog and comments originally appeared on Buddhist Travelers.

Loving-Kindness & Compassion (Pema Chödrön)

This is fourth in the series of Chödrön-based teachings accompanied by Chopin. Previous episodes introduced bodhicitta, three lords of materialism and learning to stay. This one is about spreading joy and alleviating suffering.

May all sentient beings enjoy happiness and the root of happiness.

May they be free from suffering and the root of suffering.

May they not be separated from the great joy, devoid of suffering.

May they dwell in great equanimity, free from passion, aggression and prejudice.

This is the chant of the four limitless qualities, also known as the four immeasurables. We can transform this to our own personal version. What seeds we sow are up to us. The aspiration practice of the four limitless qualities is a particularly powerful way for us to sow seeds of well-being in ourselves and others. These four are:

(1) loving-kindness, (2) compassion, (3) joy, (4) equanimity.

We begin by acknowledging where we already feel love, compassion, joy and equanimity. We locate our current experience of these qualities, however limited, in our love of music, empathy with children, joy on hearing good news, and equanimity when we are with good friends. We learn how it feels when one of these qualities is stuck, and and how it feels when it is flowing freely. We never pretend that we feel anything we don't. Rather, we make an aspiration. This is different from making an affirmation, which hides how we really feel about ourselves. We aren't trying to convince ourselves of anything, and we aren't trying to hide our true feelings. We are expressing our willingness to open our hearts. We are aspiring to tap into the boundless qualities of the heart for the benefit of ourselves, others and all sentient beings.

Peace between countries must rest on the solid foundation of love between individuals. (Mahatma Gandhi)

For the formal practice of loving kindness, metta or maitri, we traditionally begin with ourselves and expand outwards in seven stages. Sometimes people find that too hard. It's important to include ourselves, but whom we start with isn't critical. Just locate that ability to find good-heart and cherish it, even if it ebbs and flows. Before we begin the aspiration practice, we sit still for a few minutes. Then we begin. The seven stages are 

(1) ourselves, (2) loved ones, (3) friends, (4) "neutral" persons, (5) those who irritate us, (6) all of the above as a group, and, finally, (7) all beings throughout time and space.

Thus, we gradually widen our circle of loving-kindness. It's fine though to take just one stage and work with that for a while. It may also be important to put the aspiration for happiness in your own words which has meaning for you. For some, happiness is not what they want, but realising one's fullest potential, or speaking, thinking and acting in a way that expresses fundamental well-being, or… it's up to you.
The people who irritate us are those who inevitably blow our cover. Through them, we might come to see our defences very clearly. Before Atisha brought the bodhicitta practices from India to Tibet, he was told that the people in Tibet were universally cheerful and kind. He was afraid that if this was the case, he'd have no-one to provoke him and show him where he needed to train, so he brought along his Bengali tea boy who was as skilful at showing him his faults as his guru. The joke is that he didn't need that Bengali servant because there were plenty of annoying people in Tibet.
Making the aspirations is like watering the seed of good-will so it can begin to grow. In the course of doing this we'll become acquainted with our barriers – numbness, inadequacy, scepticism resentment, righteous indignation, pride and all the rest. We make friends with our fears. Unconditional good heart towards others is not even a possibility unless we attend to our own demons. Everything we encounter thus becomes an opportunity to train. The sixth stage is also called "dropping the barriers", the seventh "universal peace". A simplified form of the practice has just three steps: "May I enjoy happiness and its causes. May you enjoy happiness and its causes. May all beings everywhere be happy." At the end of the practice, we drop all words and wishes and come back to the non-conceptual simplicity of sitting meditation.


 
The practice of compassion is similar, but this time we begin with our ability to be genuinely touched by suffering. It involves learning to relax, move gently towards what scares us, to stay with emotional distress without tightening into aversion, to let fear soften us rather than harden into resistance. As for loving-kindness, we might wish to make a list of those who evoke these feelings in us, and again we begin after a short meditation with an aspiration that feels genuine and not sentimental or contrived. Thich Nhat Hanh suggests "May I be free of anger, … fear and worries. May I not fall into a state of indifference or be caught in the extremes of craving and aversion. May I not be the victim of self deception."

As before, we then work outwards. The fourth stage of the "neutral" presents an interesting challenge. Many of us come to this point of the practice and go numb. We say the aspiration, but can't connect to people we don't know. We might be shocked to find how indifferent or even fearful we are towards so many people. When it comes to the fifth stage, we must remind ourselves that habits of fear, anger and self-pity are only strengthened if we continue to buy into them. The most compassionate thing we can do is to interrupt these habits. Instead of always pulling back and putting up walls, we can do something unpredictable and make a compassionate aspiration.

Sometimes the only way to make the practice relevant is not only to make the intention, but also to act on it… in the checkout line, at the breakfast table, at the office. When I practice the aspirations on the spot, I no longer feel so separated from others. A teacher once told me that if I wanted lasting happiness, the only way to get it was to step out of my cocoon.. When I asked her how to bring happiness to others, she replied, "Same instruction."

Source: Pema Chödrön, The Places That Scare You. The music was Chopin's "Trois Ecossaises" and his Op. 10 No. 3 played on the violin.

The blog originally appeared on Buddhist Travelers.

I Will Stay (Pema Chödrön)

 

This is third in the series of Chödrön-based teachings accompanied by Chopin.

In the last post, we discussed the three lords of materialism, three kinds of attachment which obstruct the awakening of bodhicitta, the subject of the first post. In this post, we discuss what it means to stay with our thoughts, feelings and experiences, the four qualities of maitri, and the use of training slogans to help us.

Sitting meditation, also known as mindfulness-awareness practice, is the foundation of training for the bodhicitta-warrior. Sitting cultivates loving-kindness and compassion, the relative qualities of bodhicitta – it cultivates unconditional friendliness for ourselves and parts the curtain of indifference that separates us from the suffering of others. In addition, through getting closer to our thoughts and feelings and getting in touch with our bodies, through opening to ourselves, our inner voice and self-confidence, we also open to gaps in our internal dialogue, moments of relaxed open-ended awareness without clutter, moments of unconditional bodhicitta. But there is no guarantee that sitting will do this. If we use meditation to reinforce the barriers of our false beliefs, then we could practice for years without penetrating our hearts and minds. This would be of little benefit. It would be wise for us to ask then…

Q. Why do you meditate?

Happiness? Freedom? Peace? Wholeness?

It is sometimes said that to make peace in the world, you must first make peace within yourself. But trying to fix ourselves is not helpful. It implies struggle and self-denigration. Denigrating ourselves is probably the major way we cover over bodhicitta. Self-improvement can have temporary results, but lasting transformation occurs only when we honour ourselves as the source of wisdom and compassion. Without the complete direct acceptance of ourselves, which we call maitri, renunciation of old habits becomes abusive.

There are four qualities of maitri that are cultivated when we meditate: steadfastness, clear seeing, experiencing our emotional distress, and attention to the present moment.

Steadfastness – meditation strengthens our ability to be steadfast. No matter what comes up, aching bones, boredom, falling asleep, or the wildest thoughts or emotions, we develop a loyalty to our experience. Though we might consider it, we don't run screaming out of the room. Instead, we acknowledge that impulse as thinking, without labelling it right or wrong. This is no small task. Never underestimate our inclination to bolt when we hurt. We're encourages to meditate every day, even for a short time, to cultivate this steadfastness with ourselves. Meditation isn't about getting it right or attaining some ideal state. It's about being able to stay present with ourselves.

One aspect of steadfastness is simply being in your body. When you first sit down, relax and do a body sweep to get in touch with what's going on, bringing awareness to every part of the body. If there's tension somewhere, stop and rest your awareness there for a few breaths before moving on. You can reconnect with your body like this when it occurs to you, maybe once or twice during in a sitting session. Then return to the technique.

In meditation, we discover our inherent restlessness, in body and mind. We derive security in memories, fantasies and plans. We don't want to stay with the nakedness of our present experience. These are the times when only gentleness and a sense of humour can give us the strength to settle down. In short, the instruction is "Stay… stay… just stay". Training with kindness in humans like in animals results in flexibility, confidence and the ability to not become upset when situations are unpredictable or insecure. Restlessness? Stay! Discursive mind? Stay! Fear and loathing? Stay! Knees, back? Stay! What's for lunch? Stay! I can't stand this any longer! Stay! That is how to cultivate steadfastness.

Clear seeing – After we've been meditating a while, it's common to feel we're regressing rather than waking up. Clear seeing is another way of saying that we have less self-deception, but it comes as an aspect of self-compassion, of maitri. We begin to see our defence mechanisms, our negative beliefs, our desires and expectations, but also our kindness, bravery and wisdom. Although we still associate the walls we've erected with safety and comfort, we also begin to see them as restriction. This is the beginning of the warrior way, stepping out from our familiar world.

Experiencing our emotional distress – Transformation only occurs when we remember breath by breath, year after year, to move towards our emotional distress. Trungpa Rinpoche describes emotion as a combination of existing energy and thoughts. Emotion can't proliferate without our internal conversations. Label the thoughts "thinking", and let them go. But below the thoughts, something remains – a vital, pulsating energy. There is nothing wrong or harmful about that underlying energy. Our practice is to stay with it, experience it, leave it as it is.

There are certain advanced techniques in which you intentionally churn up emotions by thinking of people or situations that make you angry or lustful or afraid, then let the thoughts go and connect directly with the energy, asking yourself, "Who am I without these thoughts?" What we do with standard meditation is simpler, but equally daring. When emotional distress arises uninvited, we let the storyline go and abide with the energy. This is a felt experience. We can feel the energy in our bodies. If we can stay with it, neither acting it out nor repressing it, it wakes us up. (People often say, "I fall asleep all the time in meditation. What shall I do?" There are lots of antidotes to drowsiness, but my favourite is, "Experience anger!"

Not abiding is a predictable human habit. Acting out and repressing are tactics we use to get away from our emotional pain. Many of us when angry seesaw between expressing rage and guilt. In Vajrayana Buddhism it is said that wisdom is inherent in emotions. When we struggle against our own energy we are rejecting the source of wisdom. Anger without the fixation is none other than clear-seeing wisdom. Pride without fixation is experienced as equanimity. The energy of passion when it’s free of grasping is discriminating awareness wisdom.

In bodhichitta training we also welcome the living energy of emotions. When our emotions intensify what we usually feel is fear. This fear is always lurking in our lives. In sitting meditation we practice dropping whatever story we are telling ourselves and leaning into the emotions and the fear. Thus we train in opening the fearful heart to the restlessness of our own energy. We learn to abide with the experience of our emotional distress.

Attention to the present moment – Another factor we cultivate in the transformative process of meditation is attention to this very moment. We make the choice, moment by moment, to be fully here. Attending to our present-moment mind and body is a way of being tender toward self, toward other, and toward the world. This quality of attention is inherent in our ability to love.

Coming back to the present moment takes some effort but the effort is very light. The instruction is to "touch and go". We touch thoughts by acknowledging them as thinking and then we let them go. It’s a way of relaxing our struggle, like touching a bubble with a feather. It’s a nonaggressive approach to being here.

Sometimes we find that we like our thoughts so much that we don’t want to let them go. Watching our personal video is a lot more entertaining than bringing our mind back home. There’s no doubt that our fantasy world can be very juicy and seductive. So we train in using a "soft" effort, in interrupting our habitual patterns; we train in cultivating self-compassion.

So to answer our Question... We practice meditation to connect with maitri and unconditional openness. By not deliberately blocking anything, by directly touching our thoughts and then letting them go with an attitude of no big deal, we can discover that our fundamental energy is tender, wholesome, and fresh. We can start to train as a warrior, discovering for ourselves that it is bodhichitta, not confusion, that is basic.

In all activities, train with slogans! In the midst of confusion, it is knowing to pause and apply our wisdom to the way we live. For example, "always meditate on whatever provokes resentment". Once familiar with this, and knowing it, this slogan will spontaneously pop into our mind before we act out our resentment and remind us instead to stay with the emotional energy. Instead of falling prey to a chain reaction, we catch ourselves. "If you practice, even when distracted, you are well-trained." As we practice, begin to know the difference between our fantasy and reality. Become aware of when we start to tighten or retreat. "Of the two witnesses, hold the principal one." We're the only one who knows the full truth about ourselves, so we must take responsibility, and there's no running away from this responsibility. In all activities, not just when things are going well or badly, train with slogans, and remember, "Don't try to be the fastest.", "Abandon any hope of fruition." and "Don't expect applause."!

Can we give a hand to Pema Chödrön for another brilliant exposition?

Video: Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu played by Valentina Igoshina

More on the lojong slogans of Atisha, which Chödrön refers to, can be found at this site:

http://www.tricycle.com/complete-lojong-slogans

The blog originally appeared on Buddhist Travelers.

Staying Compassionate in the Present Moment (Pema Chödrön)

When we were digging the foundation for the retreat center at Gampo Abbey, we hit bedrock, and a small crack appeared. A minute later water was dripping out. An hour later, the flow was stronger and the crack was wider.

Finding the basic goodness of bodhichitta is like that-tapping into a spring of living water that has been temporarily encased in solid rock. When we touch the center of sorrow, when we sit with discomfort without trying to fix it, when we stay present to the pain of disapproval or betrayal and let it soften us, these are the times that we connect with bodhichitta.

Tapping into that shaky and tender place has a transformative effect. Being in this place may feel uncertain and edgy but it's also a big relief. Just to stay there, even for a moment, feels like a genuine act of kindness to ourselves. Being compassionate enough to accommodate our own fears takes courage, of course, and it definitely feels counterintuitive. But it's what we need to do.

A friend was telling me about her elderly parents in Florida. They live in an area where there's poverty and hardship; the threat of violence seems very real. Their way of relating to this is to live in a walled community protected by guard dogs and electric gates. It is their hope of course that nothing scary will enter. But through their isolation, their sense of insecurity only grows stronger and they are becoming increasingly unable to cope with an unpredictable world. This is an accurate analogy for the workings of ego.

As Albert Einstein pointed out, the tragedy of experiencing ourselves as apart from everyone else is that this delusion becomes a prison. Sadder yet, we become increasingly unnerved at the possibility of freedom. When the barriers come down, we don't know what to do. We need a bit more warning about what it feels like when the walls start tumbling down. We need to be told that fear and trembling accompany growing up and that letting go takes courage. Finding the courage to go to the places that scare us cannot happen without compassionate inquiry into the workings of ego. So we ask ourselves, "What do I do when I feel I can't handle what's going on? Where do I look for strength and in what do I place my trust?"

The Buddha taught that flexibility and openness bring strength and that running from groundlessness weakens us and brings pain. But do we understand that becoming familiar with the running away is the key? Openness doesn't come from resisting our fears but from getting to know them well.

Rather than going after those walls and barriers with a sledge-hammer, we pay attention to them. With gentleness and honesty, we move closer to those walls. We touch them and smell them and get to know them well. We begin a process of acknowledging our aversions and our cravings. We become familiar with the strategies and beliefs we use to build the walls: What are the stories I tell myself? What repels me and what attracts me? We start to get curious about what's going on. Without calling what we see right or wrong, we simply look as objectively as we can. We can observe ourselves with humor, not getting overly serious, moralistic, or uptight about this investigation. Year after year, we train in remaining open and receptive to whatever arises. Slowly, very slowly, the cracks in the walls seem to widen and, as if by magic, bodhichitta is able to flow freely.

An interesting metaphor used in Tibetan Buddhism that can help us with this process is that of the "Three Lords of Materialism". These are like three moats obstructing us from reaching and pulling down the walls of ego, three strategies which we use to provide ourselves with an illusion of security from the world, but which then turn against us as we journey inwards. Their water is stale and dirty, a poor substitute for that which we seek, but we can get addicted to it.

The first of the three lords of materialism is called the lord of form. It represents how we look to externals to give us solid ground. They may bring happiness in the short-term, which makes them all the more beguiling. We can begin to pay attention to these methods of escape.

1. What do you do when you feel anxious and depressed, bored or lonely?

Shopping? Alcohol? Food? Drugs? Sex? Seeking out adventure? Retreating into the beauty of nature or the delicious world of a really good book? Phone calls? Surfing the net? TV? Some methods are dangerous, some humorous, some quite benign. But we can misuse any substance or activity to run away from insecurity. When we become addicted to the lord of form, the feelings we're trying to escape still lurk beneath the surface and often get stronger. A traditional analogy of this is of a mouse caught in a mouse trap, but the Dalai Lama offers us an interesting twist on this analogy. He tells how as a boy in Tibet, he would try to see if he could outwit a mouse, but in all his time he never managed to catch one. So Tibetan mice became his models of enlightened conduct. Unlike most of us, they had figured out how to refrain from the short-term pleasure of the cheese for the longer-term pleasure of surviving. Our usual reaction to dissatisfaction or feeling trapped is not to become curious, to stay and investigate the strategies of ego, but instead to reach for something familiar which we associate with relief and later wonder why the dissatisfaction still remains. The radical approach of bodhichitta is to pay attention and acknowledge without judging whatever is going on.

The second lord of materialism is the lord of speech. This lord represents how we use beliefs of all kinds to give us the illusion of certainty. Any of the 'isms' – political, ecological, philosophical or spiritual can be used in this way. When we believe in the correctness of our view, we can be very narrow-minded and prejudiced about the faults of other people.

2. What beliefs do you hold above others, reacting negatively if they are challenged?

The problem isn't with the beliefs themselves, but with how we use them to get ground under our feet, to feel right and another wrong. It reminds me of a fellow I knew in the 1960s whose passion was for protesting against injustice. Whenever it looked as if a conflict would be resolved, he would sink into a kind of gloom, until a new cause for outrage arose and he'd become elated again. Being caught by the lord of speech may start with just a reasonable conviction about what we feel to be true. However, if we find ourselves becoming righteously indignant, that's a sure sign that we've been sucked in and our ability to effect change will be hindered.

The third lord, the lord of mind, uses the most subtle and seductive strategy of all. The lord of mind comes into play when we attempt to avoid uneasiness by seeking special states of mind. New meditators often expect that with training they can transcend the pain of ordinary life. It's disappointing, to say the least, to be told to touch down in the thick of things, to remain open and receptive to boredom as well as bliss.

3. What states of mind do you look back on or look forward to, wishing to get "there"?

Sometimes out of the blue, people have amazing experiences. Recently a lawyer told me that while standing on a street corner waiting for a light to change, an extraordinary thing occurred. Suddenly her body expanded until it felt as big as the entire universe. She felt instinctively that she and the universe were one. She had no doubt that this was actually true. She knew she was not, as she'd previously assumed, separate from everything else. The problem arose when she started to hang onto her experience. She wanted it back. Ordinary perception was no longer satisfying; it left her feeling troubled and out of touch. Even though peak experiences might show us the truth and inform us about why we meditate, they are essentially no big deal. If we can't integrate them into the ups and downs of our lives, if we cling to them, they will hinder us. We can trust our experiences as valid, but then we have to move on and learn to get along with our neighbors. As the twelfth-century Tibetan yogi Milarepa said when he heard of his student Gampopa's peak experiences, "They are neither good nor bad. Keep meditating." The states themselves are a good sign. They only become a problem if we become addicted to them.

Each of us has a variety of habitual tactics for avoiding life as it is. In a nutshell, that's the teaching of the three lords of materialism. This simple teaching is, it seems, everyone's autobiography. The first lord teaches us to "stay" and not deny our own experience, the second to be "compassionate" and not deny the experience of others, and the third to be here "in the present moment" and not deny the experience of now. In summary, they tell us to "stay – compassionate – in the present moment". And we do this by staying compassionate in the present moment. As Trungpa Rinpoche says, if we recognize and just relax with the reality of impermanence, egolessness and dissatisfaction, then we have no problem. There's no cure for hot and cold. There's no cure for the facts of life. When we stop investing our energy in struggling with the facts of life, or hiding from them, in strategies that trap us, then a lot of energy is released. But often we don't recognize this, and the lords of form do give the illusion of providing genuine relief.

4. What is it we should be staying with, compassionate in the present moment, if right now in this moment we are caught up by one of the three lords of materialism?

Compassion? Love? Silence? Faith? Or just the simple recognition that what we experience as a refuge is but a respite? Is recognition enough, or is it but the root of hypocrisy unless we act upon it in some way? We can stop running away, but most of us have been running so long we've forgotten what it is we're running from. We know we are caught by the three lords, but we don't know why. So what should we be staying with that would reveal our fears in the reality of impermanence, egolessness and dissatisfaction and give us the opportunity to ride them down? Perhaps it is allowing the mindfulness of meditation to permeate through our whole experience of life.

The Fountain

Don't say, don't say there is no water
to solace the dryness at our hearts.
I have seen

the fountain springing out of the rock wall
and you drinking there. And I too
before your eyes

found footholds and climbed
to drink the cool water.

The woman of that place, shading her eyes,
frowned as she watched, but not because
she grudged the water,

only because she was waiting
to see we drank our fill and were
refreshed.

Don't say, don't say there is no water.
That fountain is there among its scalloped
green and gray stones,

it is still there and always there
with its quiet song and strange power
to spring in us,

up and out through the rock.

(Denise Levertov)

When we use strategies to escape from ourselves or others or the present moment, we become less able to enjoy the tender and wonder that is available in the most unremarkable of times. Connecting with bodhichitta is ordinary. It is a natural force waiting to emerge. Whenever there's an opening it will always appear, like those weeds and flowers that pop out of the sidewalk as soon as there's a crack.

Source: This and The Courage to Awaken to Bodhicitta are both based on Pema Chödrön's "The Places That Scare You". 

kathycustren: Thank you, Okei, for providing this look from Pema Chodron at the things that can drive us in our material world. Being aware of them is to acknowledge there is work to be done. :) Namaste ~ Blessings!

aspara121: Thanks for sharing this inspiring article by Pema Chodron. Each time I read her unique thoughts, I realize the depth of her wisdom and understanding of the human condition. We are very fortunate to have her as an enlightened spiritual leader. Btw, I really enjoyed listening to the Chopin video. It added emotional impetus to Chodron's profound thoughts.

Great post! :)

Namaste!

okei: It is my firm belief that Chopin & Chodron go together. (Edit: But I'm not holding that belief over anyone, lol.)

I hope to try to become more aware myself or the answers of the first three questions for me.

The fourth is really a difficult one. Is it possible to pull ourselves up from our own bootstraps? The closest I can get to an answer of what we "stay" with is Love or Silence. Or stillness, or emptiness.

A thought just occurred to me... that in the emptiness of silence, we might be able to sense that which is impossible to sense because it is everywhere, as a fish that is always in the water can have no concept of anything other than water, or indeed as the men in Plato's Cave can have no concept outside of shadow-beings. That which is everywhere is something like life force, that which makes us alive and gives us free will, what Christianity describes as the "Holy Ghost" and I remember Thich Nhat Hanh on hearing about it said, "I like your Holy Spirit", recognizing it as a universal point of dialogue between Christianity and Buddhism.

To get from that to something practical in our lives is something of a leap of faith!

midniterainbow: I'm constantly working on understanding. The closest that I can come is through the eyes of a child. How unfortunate that we age and lose such wisdom until we regain it just before exiting. Children haven't yet acquired the traps of disbelief in themselves or others.

okei: Yay... faith in yourself... that whatever may be... no problem!

Video: Chopin's Raindrop played by Valentina Igoshina.

The blog and comments originally appeared on Buddhist Travelers.