Contemplation

On cultivation…
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On cultivation…

I must cultivate the thought that death is certain;

I will die soon;

I don’t know when I am to die,

And nothing whatsoever will be of benefit then

From the moment of death onwards,

For interminable lifetimes,

Only the Dharma will benefit me

Right now, I must turn all my efforts to my practice.

i. What does this mean to me?

When I was a little girl, I used to absolutely adore amusement parks. The roller coaster was my ride of choice. Although I didn’t think about it that way back then, I loved flirting with death. That long climb to the top followed by the heart-stopping, scream-inducing plunge nearly straight down, thrilled me.

Now, as a woman of my age, getting on a rollercoaster is more like a fantasy than a thought that would rouse me to action. Why is that? These many decades later, I have the real thing. These days each day feels like a delicate dance with death. I no longer need maniacally speeding rollercoasters to flirt with death. My first step out of bed on a morning is sufficient.

With each step out of bed, I’m grateful to have woken up. This may seem like a morbid way to live. But on the contrary, it’s invigorating. I have no guarantee that my death will not come today. The only guarantee I have is this very moment. At this present moment, death has not come for me. Not yet.

When I read these verses, I am inspired to “…turn all my efforts to practice.” The writer reminds us that at the moment of death and “for interminable lifetimes”, the only thing that will be of benefit is the Dharma. Knowing this, and understanding that death is but a part of the flow of life, we must turn with all urgency to our practice.

ii. How would I explain to someone else?

A long time ago, my teacher, the Venerable Tashi Nyima asked us to do an exercise. The idea was to make lists that began with ‘If I had ten years to live, I would…’, ‘if I had five years to live, I would…’ and so on all the way to ‘If I had one day to live, I would…’. The next time we met, our teacher listened patiently to our plans. When we’d finished there was a moment of silence. Then he said, ‘all the lists should be exactly the same’.

Wow. I needed a moment to process that. I think we all did, because that silence was back. So let me get this straight, I thought to myself, ten years to live and one day to live should be the same? Yes, of course, I thought. What guarantee do we have that we will so much as take the next breath, let alone live the next years.

This teaching was decades ago, but it has stuck with me. Remembering it really helped me to understand when the writer says, “I must cultivate the thought that death is certain; I will die soon.” Notice the writer says “cultivate”, not ‘make friends with’ or ‘get to know’. I believe this word is being used deliberately. Our local friendly AI tells us that ‘cultivation’ means, “try to acquire or develop a . . . skill”.

What is the skill being developed here? As creatures of samsara, we are always getting caught up in the next shiny, brand-new thing. This constant chase leaves nearly no time to examine our thoughts or the state of our lives. How many times have we heard about a person who’s passed, “It was so sudden”. People driving to work, sipping a coffee, do not expect their return trip to be in a body bag.

The skill we want to acquire or ‘cultivate’ with thoughts of death is to realize beyond the intellectual that the condition we call ‘life’ is ephemeral and could at any moment end. The writer is very specific about the thought to be cultivated, it is, “death is certain; I will die soon.” If we cultivate this thought, it becomes a skillful means to focus our lives on what’s most important in this lifetime – the Dharma and practice. Once we embrace this, life can become a very liberating experience. No need to wonder what happens in the end. You die – that’s the ending of the story called life. And from that ending arises a new beginning.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

I have Major Depressive Disorder. Among other things it means I take lots and lots of meds. In the past I’ve faced the specter of suicide many, many times. I say that to say this. I have an awareness that we live cheek and jowl with death day in and day out. At times that’s quite terrifying, but mostly it’s liberating. Living with death as a constant companion can make us grateful for every new morning, every new day, even every new breath.

At my job I deal with a lot of people who are caring for family members whose diagnoses include words like, “at home hospice”, “end of life”, or stage four anything. Although my actual job is to do business with these people who are caring for their loved ones, I take the time with every person to be as compassionate as I can be. Even with all I know, and all my training, I’m still fearful of death. I consider that the people I’m talking to have no training. Their only experience with death is fear and probably anger. At work, I make it my real business to move with compassion and empathy on each call. This is what the Dharma calls us to do.

Knowing and understanding this, and having cultivated a relationship with death, shouldn’t we help those drowning in the fears of samsara as much as we can?

On freedom…
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On freedom…

If, having obtained freedoms such as these,
I do not practice virtuous actions
There could be no greater self-deception.
There could be no greater foolishness.

This human life with its freedoms and endowments
Is very difficult to obtain
If I have a meaningful life,
But do not put it to good use,
How will I ever receive this perfect gift again?

The Lam Rim

i. What does this mean to me?

I went to college at a huge public university. When I got there, and unpacked and all that good stuff, my mind kind of went blank. I was eighteen and I literally had nothing to do and nowhere to be. I’d never felt such freedom. We enjoy many freedoms in our our daily lives.

It’s so easy to simply go about our lives from day to day, going to work, eating, watching entertainment, going to sleep then getting up and doing it all again the next day. But is that all there really is? We have many advantages living the kind of lives we lead. We have the freedom to choose what we do with our time.

Although it may not feel that way, we have tremendous freedoms in our lives. We have the freedom of being born into a society where education is free for the first twelve years. This gives us an excellent advantage to study the Dharma. If we have the great good fortune to encounter the Dharma, and a teacher who is willing to share the Dharma with us, that is indeed a fortunate birth.

But having obtained this fortunate birth, what are we do to? Death is the ultimate equalizer that will one day lay us low. Between the time we are born and the time we leave these bodies, we must take advantage of every fortunate event we encounter.

Having once encountered the Dharma, we now have the duty to study and practice. The writer says if we don’t take advantage of this great fortune, “…there could be no greater self-deception. There could be no greater foolishness.”

Why self-deception? We are not going to live forever. This should give us a sense of urgency to practice, study and share the Dharma. There is no “greater foolishness” because not only do we have the good fortune to be born into human bodies, we have the great fortune of encountering the Dharma in this precious life. The great foolishness would be not taking advantage of these two extraordinary fortunes.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

If you were born into great wealth, wouldn’t it be your responsibility to help others with whatever resources you have? The great fortune of being born into a human body and encountering the Dharma is no different than being born into great wealth.

With all the suffering around us in samsara, isn’t it our duty to use the wealth and resources that is the Dharma to alleviate the suffering of others? Samsara is afire with the flames of cyclic rebirth.  Aging, disease, death and rebirth is not our birthright. Rather, it is the unfortunate situation in which we find ourselves.

Imagine being in a burning house and the flames are only inches away. If someone came to not only give you the relief of guiding you out, but also to show you a path where you’d never have to burn again, wouldn’t you accept their guidance? Just so in samsara. The Dharma is the way out of the burning house. The path is the way to the cessation of suffering.

If we encounter the Dharma and the path, we must not only study, but use what we learn to decrease the suffering of others.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

As I study and practice the Dharma, I am grateful for the great good fortune I have had in this lifetime. Not only did I encounter the Dharma, I found a teacher who is always more than willing to share the Dharma.

What the writer says here is true at a very basic level. If we have the great fortune of encountering the Dharma after a precious human birth, it can only be called great foolishness to remain in the burning house. Not only that, once we have made our way out of the burning house, it is our duty to help others who wish to be free find their way out.

I bring this into my life by practicing generosity on a very practical level. At work, I practice being generous with my time when I help our customers. This may seem like a small thing, but the way work is run, you always feel like you don’t have enough time. I work with this by practicing generosity by helping others as much as I can.

Encountering the Dharma and having a precious human birth is more good fortune than anyone could ask. Having attained both things, our duty lies in relieving the suffering of all sentient beings and leading them to great benefit.

On the snow globe…
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On the snow globe…

The perfect teaching of the Buddha is not accomplished through mere study.

Dharma without meditation is like dying of thirst while being helplessly carried away by a great river.

Flower Arrayed Tree Sutra

i. What does this mean to me?

I have a confession to make. When I first started studying the Dharma, the teachings were a joy to listen to. In my mid-forties, it felt like I’d waited all my life to hear the Dharma. Then came the teachings on meditation, then the practice of meditation. I didn’t like meditation even one little bit.

The very idea of sitting on a chair or cushion, closing my eyes and then essentially doing nothing for around twenty five minutes didn’t sit well with me. But nevertheless, I dutifully practiced at home. That lasted for about two or three weeks, and then suddenly, one day I was sitting there thinking I’d rather be literally anywhere else, when something shifted.

I wish I could explain it better than that. There was no fanfare, no glare of white light, just a very subtle settling as though I were a square peg that had finally found a resting place in a square space. I saw how meditation wasn’t just part of the Dharma, it was inextricably bound to the Dharma. After all, there are eighty-four thousand gates to the Dharma. Meditation is just one of them.

These days, nigh on fifteen years later, I see that Dharma teachings are inextricably bound to one’s practice. You can’t study the Dharma and not meditate, because that would be like, “…dying of thirst while being helplessly carried away by a great river”. Why? Because meditation is nothing more than stopping and taking time to settle the agitation of the mind.

The more often we do that, on or off the cushion, the better we’ll come to know the mind, and the less the mind will be able to run us down any path of thought it chases. Once we step through this gate to the Dharma, we are well on the way to drinking from the constant river that carries us and give it a direction of our choice.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

My teacher had a snow globe with maybe a Buddha inside. At the beginning of each meditation, he would give it a good shake then put it down and say, ‘this is what we’re doing, settling the mind.’ Now that I’ve studied the Dharma, taken a few years hiatus, and come back, I understand why “The perfect teaching of the Buddha is not accomplished through mere study.”

Reading the Dharma and hearing it is very good. But the meditation component is so important that it’s not just a component, it is interwoven into the Dharma. I would venture to say that meditation settles the mind so that we can better absorb the Dharma and make it our own. Meditation is a balm to the agitated mind. The more we do it, the clearer we see our way to helping those caught up in the illusions of samsara.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?
Meditation is easier than going to sleep. When we want to go to sleep, we are trying desperately to unplug from the world. We all know how hard that can be. Meditation is just the opposite – we work on connecting to who we truly are – our Buddha Nature. Doing this means cultivating concentration, or to say it another way, we work to minimize distractions.

When you meditate, even after just a few weeks, there’s this calm space that arises in the mind. Actually, it’s always there, we’re usually too distracted to notice it. Remember that in Buddhism, we’re not meditating to become great meditators, or get an Olympic medal. We meditate to make our minds more fit for us to be of benefit to others. I bring this into my life by having a formal ‘sit on the cushion’ meditation four or five times a week. I cultivate that calm space in the mind.

In particular, when I’m at work, which can be off the scale stressful, I make myself stop whatever I’m doing. Even though my mind is shouting, ‘YOU DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!’, I still stop and close my eyes and breathe a few slow breaths. In those few moments I remember there is a calm space in the mind. I focus on knowing and understanding that I can operate from a place of peace, not agitation.

When I open my eyes I feel ready to be calm. I do this about five or six times a day. The agitation in my mind is like a fever. I work to eliminate or at least ameliorate the causes and conditions for even more agitation to arise. Every time I do this, I feel like I’m putting that snow globe to rest, instead of shaking it up even more.

Reading the Dharma and studying is of great benefit. Of even greater benefit is living the Dharma through meditation. More meditation means a less agitated mind. A less agitated mind means we can be of more and more benefit to others.

Don’t we all want to put the snow globe down and let the particles settle out of that beautiful clear water? The clear water of our mind?

On renunciation…
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On renunciation…

The weakness of samsara is impermanence. That is the key observation that allows us to cultivate renunciation. Everything flows; everything changes; nothing remains the same. Why be attached or averse?

Venerable Tashi Nyima

i. What does this mean to me?

I grew up in the Bronx in New York state. By the time I was in high school, I was going into ‘the city’ (Manhattan) on the subway by myself. When I was in the city, I was a total tourist. My favorite place to go was the touristy part of Times Square, especially at night.

At night Times Square came alive with marquees full of flashing lights. All the stores lit up. It was a little magical. There was always something bright and shiny and new going on. Not to mention the smell of street foods and the strains of music. There were people walking down the street offering cards or flyers for the latest Broadway show, or the newest place to buy some touristy “I Love New York” t-shirt.

Times Square is a microcosm of samsara. There’s always the next new thing. There are always shiny new houses, shiny new cars, shiny new jobs. All this glitter hides the truth of samsara. It’s like going to Times Square in the daytime. The streets are dirty and littered, and in the bright light of day, the shiny objects of the night are merely dull and uninteresting.

As the writer says, “The weakness of samsara is impermanence”. Nothing stays the same in samsara. The shiny new house comes with a thirty-year mortgage that will turn you gray eventually. The shiny new car comes with eye-watering payments, not to mention insurance.

The writer talks about cultivating renunciation. Renunciation of what? It’s not so much the bright shiny things, it’s how they enthrall us almost to the point of legitimate concerns fading away. The writer isn’t suggesting that we go around in hair shirts and ashes. That would serve no purpose. It would be just another form of attachment. Rather the writer is pointing out that all bright shiny things will one day turn to rust. And knowing this, “Why be attached or averse?” Instead, shouldn’t we renounce the enthrallments of samsara and turn our minds to the true bliss, true permanence, true being, true purity that is the Dharma?

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

Renunciation comes with a negative connotation in our society. We think of hermits on mountaintops or out in the desert wearing rags, having ‘renounced’ the world. Our local friendly AI tells us that renunciation means, “the formal rejection of something, typically a belief, claim, or course of action.”

Renunciation is simply a rejection or a knowing choice to stop doing something or to stop believing something. In this case we’re talking about formally and consciously rejecting the idea that samsara has anything to offer. So many times, we make the mistake of believing what we experience in samsara and taking that for the truth of things.

This inevitably leads to unhappiness because, as the writer reminds us, “Everything flows; everything changes; nothing remains the same”. Whenever we accept anything in samsara at face value, we are placing causes for suffering into our lives. How many outfits do we have in our closets that are pushed all the way to the back, just a car ride away from Goodwill? Not only is everything we experience an internal mental representation, but “Everything changes; nothing remains the same”. What is it that remains the same with no retrogression? The Dharma. While in these limited bodies with our limited senses, the Dharma is the only reliable, unchanging thing we have.

Samsara, like Times Square at night, is very seductive. It appeals to the senses, attracts the mind, dominates our thoughts. It’s hard to remember that samsara is merely superimposed upon ultimate reality – the truth of how things are.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

For me, the lure of samsara used to be nearly irresistible, like some powerful addiction. Like any addict, I was lost in the delusions of samsara, drowning in an ocean of misery. Now, after having had the good fortune to encounter and study the Dharma, I understand samsara for the illusion it is.

I won’t be running out and buying a hair shirt anytime soon though, but I will use the teachings of the Dharma, through wisdom and compassion, to help others. Helping others is the only true cause for happiness in samsara.

In my day-to-day life, what hooks me the most into being lured by samsara are my comforts. I like air conditioning. I like shopping for yarn, and knitting. I like, overall, being comfortable. I think we all do. But at what cost does our comfort come? Does it make us so indolent that we don’t ‘feel’ like studying the Dharma? Or acting compassionately? Or we feel like ignoring our own Buddha Nature when it becomes uncomfortable to help others?

As I study, meditate and practice, samsara becomes more and more transparent. The tricks of seduction become clear. Knowing these things, and having seen samsara for what it is, what is the best way to behave to bring me closer to expressing my Buddha Nature and recognizing it in others?

The writer reminds us that “The weakness of samsara is impermanence”. So, we know samsara is an illusion that will fade away like mist in the trained mind. Knowing this, we must turn to our conduct. We must move through samsara with wisdom and compassion for those caught up in the illusion. We must be patient and compassionate with our own progress on the path. We must cultivate renunciation and peace and renounce attachment and aversion. We must do these things because, as Shantideva reminds us, the Lord of Death is always at hand. We don’t know when his scythe will fall, only that it will inevitably fall. Knowing this, shouldn’t we do what we can for as long as we can?

On all the Buddhas. . .
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On all the Buddhas. . .

Contemplate all phenomena as devoid of inherent nature.

The same is true of their arising and cessation.

False  designations are merely used to describe them.

All phenomena do not come into being; all phenomena do not cease to exist.

If we understand in this way, all the Buddhas appear before us.

Avatamsaka Sutra

i. What does this mean to me?

So far in this scripture we’ve come to understand from the previous lines that all our experience of phenomena is an internal mental representation. We can see this if we imagine things that are not in the so-called real world. For instance, if we think of a pink and white striped elephant, the mind will immediately ‘create’ an image. The mind is very accommodating that way.

When we look at the lines of scripture we’re contemplating today, they are merely describing our experience of ‘reality’. Let’s go back to the striped elephant. Can we say the elephant came into being? No. It’s simply a thought we made up. Can the elephant cease to exist? No. Because the only existence the striped elephant has is as an internal mental representation. The moment we turn our attention to something else –poof!—it’s gone. An internal mental representation can neither be said to “come into being” nor “cease to exist”.

Striped elephants are one thing. But what about our day-to-day existence? How is that different? Our experience of the world is the same coming and going of internal mental representations. After all, do we go around and think ‘I have to hold on to this image so that…” No. There’s no realistic end to that thought. We have to hold on to the thought so that…what? A striped elephant is going to come through the door just because we keep thinking about it? Literally, the only place that happens is in a dream. Why is that? It’s because, like a dream, the elephant is a mere transformation of consciousness, which is to say it’s an internal mental representation.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

There’s a story my teacher, the Venerable Tashi Nyima, first told me. It’s the story of the snake and the rope. If you go into a dark shadowy place and a rope is coiled up in the shadows, it can look very much like a big, coiled snake. All sorts of things happen if we experience this. The heart rate goes up, adrenaline is released, the fight or flight instinct kicks in. Before you know it, you’ve run from the dangerous coiled snake, feeling lucky to escape with your life.

Now comes the daytime, bright and sunny, and you go to the same place. There you find a harmlessly coiled rope in the corner. So where did the snake come from? The same place as the elephant. It was an internal mental representation caused by the mind misunderstanding reality.

Can we say that the snake came into being? Or that it ceased to exist? No. The snake was only happening in the mind. Most importantly here, notice that the snake didn’t come out of thin air. There was an actual rope there. The mind simply misinterpreted reality based on our limited senses. Buddhism does not claim that there is nothing there. Rather, the thought is that some ultimate reality (like the rope) is there, but with our limited senses in a limited body, we misinterpret what is actually there

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

I bring this teaching into my life by realizing that absolutely nothing is as it appears. That’s not the same as saying there’s nothing there. It means I’m not understanding what’s there. The mind is simply projecting and superimposing my thoughts on ultimate reality.

When I’m feeling stressed at work, I take a step back and take a couple deep breaths. And for a quick moment, I ask myself is there really anything to be stressed about? We all have Buddha Nature, it’s just covered over by samsara and lifetimes of habit. We will all realize liberation and enlightenment eventually.

Samsara tricks us into believing that everything we see is real. It deludes us into thinking that everything has an arising, and everything sooner or later ceases to exist. This is not true. Existence is an unceasing ebb and flow. The mind chops this flow into pieces like days, years, months, even lifetimes.

When I take a few moments at work (or whenever I’m stressed) I slowly become aware that all I experience is a superimposition of my own mind’s internal mental representations onto ultimate reality. When we can understand phenomena and ultimate reality this way, “…all the Buddhas appear before us”. If we can notice the relationship between our thoughts and ultimate reality, we can realize we are all awake, we are all Buddhas.

On false designations…
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On false designations…

Contemplate all phenomena as devoid of inherent nature.

The same is true of their arising and cessation.

False  designations are merely used to describe them.

All phenomena do not come into being; all phenomena do not cease to exist.

If we understand in this way, all the Buddhas appear before us.

Avatamsaka Sutra

i. What does this mean to me?

Last time we looked at this scripture, we talked about phenomena being devoid of inherent nature. In these two lines, the scripture asks us to consider that phenomena has no “arising” and no “cessation”. We merely use “false designations” to describe phenomena that arise in the mind as internal mental representations.

Although we perceive phenomena as ‘real’, the truth is that all phenomena are internal mental representations. We understand this by using our reason and experience. We know we can’t physically fit actual objects into our head, but yet we ‘recognize’ objects and people by their designated names.

When does an internal mental representation arise? When do they cease? They actually don’t truly arise or cease. They ‘arise’ when we turn our attention to them. And they cease when we turn our attention away. This being the case, can we say that a phenomenon has an “arising” or a “cessation”? It’s almost like a dream. Can we say when a dream arises or when it ends? No. The dream arises in the mind, and dissipates once we wake up, or in other words, when we withdraw our attention.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

When we break down or ‘analyze’ any phenomenon in our experience, we’ll soon see that we end up with atoms and molecules made up mostly of space. What does this mean? ‘Seeing’ is a trick of the mind. Our experience seems very real to us because for uncounted lifetimes we have relied upon and accepted what our senses report without question.

So when the scriptures say that phenomena has no “arising” and no “cessation”, it’s describing our experience of reality through our internal mental representations. To keep confusion to a minimum, we name what we believe we see, or as the scripture puts it, we give them “false designations” to “describe them”.

Does this mean that we dream reality into being? No. It means that, just like a magic show there’s a trick and simultaneously there is an underlying reality. Buddhism understands that there is an ultimate reality, but with our limited bodies and senses, we’re only able to perceive the ‘trick’, not the underlying reality.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

In the end, when I contemplate this scripture, it means that we do not have to be swayed by so-called reality. Once we understand that, relative reality is exactly that – relative. We don’t have to be dominated by reality. In my day-to-day life reality can sometimes feel overwhelming. When this happens, I take a mental step back and breathe. After doing this, reality kind of fades and seems more tenuous, less solid. It seems, in other words, like exactly what it is: an internal mental representation.

Looked at this way, there’s no question that our experience is internal to us, not external. When the mind is trained, this understanding can lead to a kind of peace. When the mind is at peace, we can plainly see that we don’t have to go with the emotions that reality evokes. Having realized this, we can experience the world in a kind of neutral gear. We can let phenomena come and go with the clarity that our experience is an internal mental representation, and we are free to step back, breathe, and question the experience. This eventually leads to a less agitated and more peaceful mind. Don’t we all want a little more peace in our days?

On phenomena…
by

On phenomena…

Contemplate all phenomena as devoid of inherent nature.

The same is true of their arising and cessation.

False  designations are merely used to describe them.

All phenomena do not come into being; all phenomena do not cease to exist.

If we understand in this way, all the Buddhas appear before us.

Avatamsaka Sutra

i. What does this mean to me?

If we were to “contemplate all phenomena” as having no “inherent nature”, what would that look like? We can start with the most basic of teachings about phenomena: all phenomena are internal mental representations. What does this mean? It pretty much means you can’t fit an elephant inside your head. It’s too big, right?

But yet, most people know what an elephant looks like. Why?  Because we’ve seen many, many elephants on television, in movies and in online media. Disney even has a flying elephant. At some point in our past, we saw an elephant or someone identified an image for us, and we labeled that phenomenon as ‘elephant’. This is why we don’t need to fit an elephant inside our head. All phenomena are internal mental representations from our past.

Have you had the experience of seeing something you’ve never seen before? Immediately, your mind will say something like, “That looks like…” and the mind will ‘flip through’ thousands of internal mental representations from our past, looking for the closest match.

If we stop to think about it, do any of the internal mental representations have an existence from their own side? Or, as the scripture puts it, can an internal mental representation have an “inherent nature”? It couldn’t, right, otherwise we’d all have thousands of things rattling around inside our head.

No. That’s not how things work. Instead the moment we turn our attention to something else, the previous internal mental representation is simply no longer there, replaced by a new thought, a new idea, a new phenomenon.

If, as the scripture suggests, we contemplate “all phenomena as devoid of inherent nature”, our reality becomes much more malleable. That doesn’t mean that we can imagine things into being. But it does mean we become aware that there must be an ultimate reality. Our internal mental representations do not describe ultimate truth, they reference ultimate truth.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

I would ask if they’d ever seen a magic show. As an adult, I find magic shows fascinating. It’s one of the few times we are aware that we’re experiencing two realities at the same time. There’s the ‘magic’ of a woman being sawed in half, and there’s the reality of a contortionist in just one side of the box completely unharmed.

None of us in the audience cringe in horror at the sight of a human being sawed in half. There’s no blood, no gore, nothing like that. Why not? Because it’s ‘magic’, an illusion.

Our experience of the world is the same way. There’s a reality that we ‘see’ , but like a magician’s trick it masks an underlying reality. If we contemplate our experience, realizing that all “phenomena are devoid of inherent nature”, then what we consider ‘reality’ becomes much less fixed and we realize that ‘reality’ arises wherever we focus the mind.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

Ever have one of those days where reality feels like it weighs you down? Those days when you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders? This happens to me mostly at work. Some days it can feel like a Twilight Zone episode where one day takes a year to go by. I find that on these days reality seems particularly dense and unyielding.

When this happens I take a few slow deep breaths. This helps me to experience reality as less dense. I take a few moments to realize that reality has no meaning from its own side, no “inherent nature”. This doesn’t magically make my day better. Outwardly nothing has changed. The emails are still there, the phone still rings, and my teammates still message me.

But the point is that there doesn’t need to be any change in external circumstances. What changes is how I internally experience reality. I can zoom out from the emails and everything else.

This makes a slow but steady change in my life. The more often I do this practice, the less I feel caught up in samsara. We all have the capacity to do this. Why? Because all that we experience is an internal mental representation that has no “inherent nature”. The more we can realize this, the less caught up we’ll feel in samsara. Like any magic show, we are always free to disregard the trick and contemplate the underlying reality.

On being a friend to the world . . .
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On being a friend to the world . . .

Now, while there is freedom to act, I should always present a smiling face and cease to frown and grimace. The first to extend my hand in kindness, I shall be a friend to the whole world.

Shantideva, Bodhisattvacaryavatara

i. What does this mean to me?

When I first read this, I thought to myself, “cease to frown and grimace”, isn’t it unhealthy to go around pretending everything’s okay? But on further reading, I don’t think that’s what Shantideva meant. He doesn’t say “always present a smiling face” without first saying, “Now, while there is freedom to act…”.

For me, that gives a sense of urgency to what the writer is saying. Why would there not be freedom to act? Is the world ending? Is this some sort of apocalyptic hint of things to come? I don’t think so.

We live in samsara, a place where we are in constant fear and constant uncertainty. The sands are always shifting beneath our feet in samsara. I think Shantideva is saying do this now while you can because, whatever your situation in samsara, it’s going to change, and not for the better.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

What does Shantideva mean when he says he’ll “be a friend to the whole world”? Our local friendly AI tells us that ‘friend’ means “someone you know well and like, and who you regard with affection, trust and loyalty.” Shantideva is telling us he will be, “the first to extend my hand in kindness, I shall be a friend to the world.”

Here Shantideva is letting us know that he intends to regard the world with affection, trust and loyalty. How can he say that about the entire world? I think this goes back to two ways of thinking about samsara and our place in it. The first way of thinking is that, like putting a drop into an ocean, one single act changes the whole world. There is also the thought of interdependence. It’s impossible to do anything to anyone in samsara without adding to the whole, because we are interdependent upon one another.

Looked at this way, Shantideva is saying that while there are circumstances of life allowing us to do so, we should take advantage of that “freedom” to act by always presenting a smiling face. Does this mean we should pretend? No. But it does mean that when we are in a position to do so, we should always shift our focus to what is pleasant and share that with others. If we share a smile with just one person, we are putting a drop of kindness into the ocean of samsara.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

This is an interesting one for me because in my mind it feels a little like a PollyAnna approach to life. But when I really pause to think about it, this is something we do all the time.

Don’t believe me? If a random person bumps into us while we’re on the street walking, what do we do? Do we slap their faces and pause to berate them for ruining our day? No. Of course not. The most likely thing to happen is that you’ll both say “excuse me” with a smile and then go on about your day.

Isnt’ this a small example of being a friend to the world? We say “excuse me” because we assume there was no maliciousness in what happened. Is this regarding those we encounter with affection, trust and loyalty? Not exactly, but if we stop and think about it, it comes pretty close.

When we literally bump into each other, there is no thought on our part of maliciously doing harm to the other person, and we assume the same about others. Is this the same as being a friend to the world? As I said earlier, it comes close. But this way of thinking is definitely extending a hand in kindness merely because we assume the other person meant no harm.

I bring this into my day to day life mostly at work. At work I talk with people whose loved ones’ medical diagnoses often includes “end of life” or “terminal” or “hospice care”. When I talk to these people, I approach them as a friend. Although I have to do business with them at an unpleasant, sad time in their lives, I inject as much humanity and compassion into the transaction as I can. Does this mean that I regard these people with affection, trust and loyalty? To a certain degree, within the limits of the interaction, yes it does.

We all have the capacity to do this if you’re reading this. If we have time to read (or do anything) for pleasure, then we have the capacity, like Shantideva, to be a friend to the world. We are at a place in our lives where we can extend a hand of friendship in kindness. Shouldn’t we seek out these opportunities and put as many drops as we can into the ocean of samsara?

On reality…
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On reality…

“Such ones do not take anything seen, heard, or thought to be ultimately true or false. But others get attached, thinking it is the truth, limited by their preconceptions.” Buddha Shakyamuni, Angutarra Nikaya

i. What does this mean to me?

This is a direct quote from the historical Buddha. What did he mean by “such ones”? The Buddha is referring to those who, like him, are enlightened. We call these enlightened ones ‘Buddhas’, which simply means those who are awake.

If we look carefully at the scripture, it’s saying that enlightened ones or ‘Buddhas’ don’t take anything they see, hear, or even think “to be ultimately true or false.” Why not? All that we see, hear or think are internal mental representations. We can understand this by considering how we interact with the known world. There’s no question that we can’t physically fit a dining room table into our head. Even if it’s from a dollhouse, it still won’t fit.

But yet, we know what a dining room table is. How do we know that? Because we’ve seen countless dining room tables. This being the case, we’ve created a mental image and labeled it ‘dining room table’. The same is true of any phenomenon. If you think about windchimes in a mild breeze, you’d hear the sound of windchimes, right?

But is the sound really there at that moment? No. The sound itself is an internal mental representation. With thoughts, it’s a lot easier to understand this. The only interactions we ever have with our thoughts are as internal mental representations. After all, we can’t take a thought out of our head and hold it in the palm of our hand, can we?

If we look back at the verse, this is what the Buddha is saying. Buddhas (those who are awake) understand that all their experience is internal mental representations. This is why Buddhas don’t take anything in their experience to be “ultimately true or false.”

Buddhists are not nihilists. We know there is an external ultimate truth. But due to the limitations of our mind and bodies, we can’t know what it is. Those who are enlightened understand that the internal mental representations we experience are nothing but ideas about what ultimate reality might be. Based on our everyday experience, we can’t say whether or not our internal mental representations reflect some truth about ultimate reality.

The Buddha goes on to say that “others” (those who have not yet realized their own enlightenment) “get attached, thinking it is the truth, limited by their preconceptions.” All that stops us from realizing our enlightenment are our preconceptions, namely wrong views and afflicted emotions. If, the Buddha is saying, we can resolve just these two things, we will realize the truth of our own enlightenment.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

I’d start by asking them to describe a dining room table. If they describe a rectangular table, I’d ask if a dining room table could be round. Of course, the answer is yes. Now there’s a dilemma. Which table is the ‘real’ dining room table? Is it the round one or the rectangular one? This is kind of a trick question. The answer is that neither is the ‘real’ table. We know there is an ultimate truth that ‘dining room table’ refers to, but we don’t know what that ultimate truth is.

The Buddha says that “…others get attached thinking it is the truth, limited by their preconceptions.” In the world as we experience it, there is entropy. Things fall apart. Even people fall apart. The Buddha taught that there are four signs of ultimately reality: true purity, true bliss, true permanence, and true being. I like to add a fifth one to help me understand, “no retrogression”. Ultimate reality is not subject to entropy.

Because entropy is our only experience with ‘reality’, we become attached to this point of view and take it to be the truth of how things are. But ultimate reality is not subject to anything in samsara. In fact we could argue whether or not ultimate reality is part of samsara. It’s not. Samsara is a realm of illusion. Ultimate reality is . . . well . . . real.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

Samsara gets so much airtime in the mind. It surrounds, inundates and penetrates the mind until through sheer repetition, we believe it to be true.

This is why it’s so important to recite prayer or mantra whenever we can, wherever we can. I have a wonderful new practice (new to me) that helps a great deal. It’s called Ten by Ten. It means ten times a day pause to take ten slow deep breaths. For me, I recite “Ohm” with each in-breath.

I find this helpful because it ‘pokes holes’ in the false reality of samsara. For a few moments at a time, I can focus on just my breath, just rest in the empty luminosity of the mind. And in those fleeting moments I see through the illusion of samsara, a few seconds at a time.

And really, that’s all it takes. Enlightenment is easy. If we can, for any length of time escape the illusion of solidity that samsara imposes, we can see through the illusory quality of samsara. And with this clear seeing, we can experience our true enlightened selves, our own Buddha Nature, if only for a few moments.

On focus…
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On focus…

I will abandon laziness for which life has no time,

enter, undistracted, the path of listening and hearing,

reflection and contemplation, and meditation,

making perceptions and mind the path,

and realize the “three kayas”: the enlightened mind.

Now that l have once attained a human body,

there is no time on the path for the mind to wander.

Guru Rinpoche Padmasambhava

i. What does this mean to me?

I’m on a mission this year. My goal is to knit 75 hats and scarves by winter time to be donated. Before this my knitting was different. I’d have two or three projects going at the same time. I guess you could say I wasn’t focused. I would just knit whatever I felt like working on whenever I sat down to knit. But it’s different now. Somewhere out there are seventy-five people that I could make the winter more comfortable for. With this in mind, I only have one project going at a time – the hats and scarves. Even though it’s only July, I feel a sense of urgency about this project. You could say I’m more focused.

In these last two lines the writer lets us know that “. . . there is no time on the path for the mind to wander”. Why is that? Because the writer has “…attained a human body.” What does this mean? Is the writer a werewolf who turns into a wolf at full moons? I think it’s far simpler than that. We have this expression in our daily speech, “In my former life, I was . . .”. For me it would be “In my former life I lived in South Florida, land of hurricanes and tropical depressions.”

For better or worse, we are always changing. Was I more human when I lived in Florida? I would say I was a different human because that was a kind of Hell realm for me. The suffering was so intense that all I could think about was self-preservation.

Whether or not you believe that your karmic stream continues after the death of the physical body, we can understand what the writer is saying here. He is at a point in his life where simply surviving is not his whole concern. Now he can turn to the concerns of being human. What is our responsibility as human beings in samsara? It is nothing less than the liberation and enlightenment of every sentient being in samsara. Is this possible in the span of one’s lifetime? Probably not. But it is a sufficient goal to bring our minds into focus. As the writer tells us, “There is no time on the path for the mind to wander.” Not when liberation and enlightenment of every being is the whole of the path.

ii. How would I explain this to someone else?

I’d start by saying that the mind is very easy to distract when there is nothing to focus on. What if you wanted to become a race car driver? You’d be all over the internet researching. Google would be your best friend. You’d visit racetracks just to see what goes on there. You would have no end of questions.

In these lines the writer reminds us that the mind works best when focused. For most of us, we go through life focused on things that are mere distractions to the mind. Having encountered the Dharma in this life, and having had the chance to study the Dharma, there is no time to waste.

Once we realize this, our best option is to walk the path without distraction. Wherever we encounter a being suffering in samsara, this is our chance to put the Dharma to work. When we have this kind of focus in our lives, the path becomes our life, and our life becomes the path. The path is a process that proceeds gradually, with our every act a step on the way to liberation and enlightenment.

iii. How do I bring this into my life?

No matter what we believe about our lifetime, we are always beginning anew in every brand new moment. These moments taken together make what we call a ‘life’. In my former life, I had absolutely no time to study anything or even think of anything except my own survival from moment to moment. The uncertainty and fear in my life crowded out all other concerns.

But now, I have had the amazing good fortune of studying the Dharma. I’d like to say that in this new life I take every possible moment to learn and study the Dharma. This isn’t the case. Like most, my mind is distracted by samsara. But as I move through this life and live the path, I make a deliberate effort to remember that we are all suffering in samsara.

I bring this into my life by deliberately bringing to mind that there is no time to waste now that I have the Dharma in my life. I follow this strong intention by making the most of each encounter with a sentient being. I treat them with empathy and respect and most importantly I remind myself over and over that there is no time to waste. Even in the smallest quickest encounter with a sentient being we have a chance to make a difference.