Currently I’m studying Heart Treasure of the Enlightened Ones with a Dharma friend, the Venerable Tashi Nyima.

This is my contemplation on the second line of verse 22 of the root text of Heart Treasure of the Enlightened Ones.

“Ah! Fount of compassion, my root teacher, Lord Chenrezi,

You are my only protector!

The six-syllable mantra, essence of your speech, is the sublime Dharma;

From now on I have no hope but you!”

Explain to someone else (making it my own)

In the west, particularly in the United States, we’re very fond of encouraging and supporting the so-called ‘pioneer spirit’. There are so many inspirational posters that talk about making your own path where there isn’t one or climbing to the top of huge mountains. I’ve always wondered about those in particular. What do you do once you get to the top of the mountain?

If we stop a minute and look at historic pioneers, we can see that the underlying context of the pioneer spirit is conquest fueled by greed and self-interest. Compassion is nowhere in sight. Pioneers went out to the west armed to the teeth, settled land that didn’t belong to them, and slaughtered any Native Americans who had the temerity to want their land back. This does not seem to me a skillful paradigm for living a life rooted in compassion.

Dilgo Kyhentse tells us, “The rain of Chenrezi’s compassion falls everywhere on the fields of sentient beings impartially; but the crop of happiness cannot grow where the seeds of faith have shriveled.” Knowing that samsara is a realm defined by suffering; knowing that we will all fall before Death’s scythe, where can we turn for protection? Who in samsara can protect us from samsara? No one. The pioneer spirit only adds to the aggression, greed, and fear roaring through samsara like the hundred-years hurricane on Jupiter.

Where then, can we turn for protection? If we found ourselves locked in a prison cell, would we expect our cellmate to have the key to free us? No. We would know instinctively that we must look beyond the prison bars for the key to freedom. Who is outside the prison of samsara? The Buddhas. Their rain of compassion, their offer of a key to free ourselves from the prison of samsara falls on us in every moment. They are our only true protectors. It is their quality of being outside samsara that makes the Buddhas an unassailable refuge in the very midst of suffering.

***

Apply to a past situation (how would it have been different?)

There was a time when I felt buffeted by life. I felt I was on a sailboat constantly tossed on the stormy sea of life, constantly in danger of falling overboard and drowning. I yearned for protection from the perils of that storm. I yearned for someone to come and calm the storm for me, or to at least toss me a life jacket. I looked to samsara for my protection.

I found Prince Charming in all his splendor. My Prince seemed a very font of protection. At last, I felt safe. But as time went by, the Prince’s glamour rubbed off and I found that, far from feeling protected, I felt my life was constantly lived on a sea in the upheavals of a hurricane raging around me at every moment. And no life jacket in sight.

Looking back on that time, I can notice that my constant fear of my afflicted emotions was a major fuel that fed the storm. I could have taken a breath, breathed out and taken a half step back from my life. Had I done that, I might have noticed that the storm that felt so uncontrollable was inside me, not outside. Had I noticed this, I may have realized that no one outside myself could calm that storm. I may have noticed that any protection I sought from the storm in samsara would inevitably crumble and fall away like the illusion it was.

Having noticed that the storm was arising from within me, I may have noticed that what I caused, I could stop. Had I known mantra then, I might have been able to turn to Amideva, the Buddha I feel the most affinity with, and sought refuge in His boundless radiance. Had I been able to do this, I may have noticed that the storm was gradually calming and subsiding, as it was to do many years later.

***

Apply to an (ongoing) present situation (how does it matter today?)

The biggest ongoing situation in my life right now is the shutting down of the company I work for. It’s being bought by another company. At work, the ‘senior leadership’ is billing this as a ‘transition’. There is no talk of shutting down, but that’s what’s happening.

The announcement was made eleven days ago. Since then my afflicted emotions have spun out scenarios of Dire Consequences from failing the background check (presumably because my Lizzie Borden ways will become public knowledge), to being the only person at work that the new company decides not to hire (presumably because I’m so important, they’ll violate the terms of their million dollar sale contract).

There was a time when I would have sought protection from the threatening storm of my emotions by joining the never-ending conversations at work about the upcoming transition. But when I listen, what I hear is people feeding each other’s fear. This doesn’t seem like a skillful means to me.

The last eleven days have been turbulent for me. My unskillful habits from years ago have risen up, seducing me with empty promises of comfort and protection. I’ve even craved a cigarette. I haven’t smoked in over six years now.

I lived in Fort Lauderdale for more than a decade. I’ve seen many hurricanes. In the hours before a hurricane makes landfall, the skies are very threatening. If you watch the clouds, you see them manically racing in great circles, and it suddenly hits you that the storm is inevitable. It’s going to come. The howling winds and rattling windows, and pebbles smashing against the walls are going to scare the hell out of you. The storm is going to destroy things. The power is going to go out. Once you see those clouds, you don’t need a weather forecast. The circling clouds give you an up-close, personal feel of the inevitability of what is to come.

Right now, as I go through this transition, my mind feels like those racing storm clouds. There is a feeling of inevitability that a storm will come, and it will terrify me with its fury. Sometimes I am mesmerized by the clouds of thoughts. I can’t help watching them, fascinated by their awe-inspiring speed and belligerence.

When I look to the storm of my thoughts, I call on Amideva (om Amideva rhih) and I ask him to shine his boundless radiance into the darkness of my fear. Seeking his protection from this brewing storm has been the first time in my life that I can actually feel a level of confidence in the face of my afflicted emotions. Yes. The storm may come. It may even knock me over. But when I call on Amideva as my protector, I am sure of one thing: the storm will pass.

They always do.

***

Apply to a potential situation (bringing it home to play)

At work, people are scared. They have the look in their eyes of refugees who’ve washed up on an island that may be inhabited by man-eating beasts. Fear, and its companion, aggression, are everywhere. I am finding (to my great surprise) that this is a very fertile ground for practicing compassion.

In the last eleven days, I have made it my practice to consciously bring compassion to my interactions with my co-workers. The response—‘how can you be so calm?’—makes me laugh. I want to answer, “Got Buddha?”

Today as I go to work, I want to really work with om Amideva rhih. For me, when my confused mind begins its litany of fear, this mantra brings calm. It brings a kind of radiance that lets me see the utter transparency of my thoughts. This is a great protection. It’s like looking up at a hurricane sky and seeing a ray of brilliant sunshine. You realize—yes, the sky is very stormy right now, but behind those storm clouds is a brilliant sun.

When I go to work today, I want to share this comfort I feel in taking refuge in Amideva’s boundless radiance. I’m not sure how to do that. Bu I know from experience that if I look for ways, I’ll find them. It may be as simple as a genuine smile when I say good morning. It may be as simple as not participating in the conversations that feed everyone’s fears. It may be a genuinely uttered ‘thank you’.

I don’t know precisely how to alleviate the suffering I see at work. But I do know that being aware of the suffering of others and having a true desire to alleviate their suffering–somehow, this makes my suffering less. I also know that every single person I see at work is suffering far more than I am. They are turning to elements of samsara for protection, and that’s only miring them deeper in the quicksand of despair and fear and hope.

As I go to the workplace today, I will be aware that Amideva’s compassion and protection—his boundless radiance—rains on everyone impartially. Knowing this, I can know that a small act of genuine kindness can resonate with the innate Buddha Nature of those beings around me, and perhaps offer them a moment’s respite from their suffering. I may not hold back the storm, but I won’t add to it either.

When I shared this contemplation with my Dharma friend, Tashi, he offered this thought: