Read Into the Heart of Life Online
Authors: Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo
Tags: #General, #Religion, #Buddhism, #Rituals & Practice, #Tibetan
Into the Heart of Life (20 page)
I also met someone who was dealing with disturbed children, children whose behavior was so extreme that they couldn’t be handled any more. One of the many things they did was to teach them just to learn how to sit and how to begin learning to find their own calm center. I think that is one of the greatest gifts we can give a child. Of course, especially with very young children, one has to be skillful and not keep things too long, since nowadays the attention span of children is so short. We can make it almost like play—nothing really ponderous—we’re just helping children learn how to sit and come into their center, even for a few minutes. If you are a religious family, you can come together when the children wake up and when they go to bed. If you have a little shrine, you can light incense and candles together, say a little prayer, and spend special time together to become centered before falling asleep. It would be wonderful.
In the old days, families always came together in the evenings and said their family prayers. It is really very sad that we have lost some of these intelligent traditions. If we are serious about our children’s welfare, we should in a very gentle way begin to introduce such things. It seems to me that moments which the family share together are very precious, especially things which help the children to become grounded and calm and feel that sense of security. Perhaps it is something missing nowadays from many families.
Q: I am wondering if you can talk a bit about meditation and sleeping and the relationship to dreaming. Sometimes when I meditate, I either get into the sleeping sort of sinking state or I get so wide awake that I can’t go to sleep.
JTP: The Tibetans, who never like to waste a minute, have two main practices for sleep. One is called the clear light meditation and one is called dream yoga. However, I am not going to teach you about that. The answer is always to get the balance so that our awareness is there and we can maintain that awareness into our dream state, but we must not be so aware that we don’t go to sleep at all. If we are meditating but we feel sleepy and can’t keep awake, then we are sinking into drowsiness. We tend either to just get more sleepy, and that is not good because it sets the pattern in the mind that meditation is falling asleep, or we wake ourselves up and we can’t sleep at all. So it is a little better to do our main meditation some time before we go to sleep. Then when we are going to sleep, we keep our basic awareness present, but low key; we just relax and practice letting the mind go, letting all thoughts go, not holding on to anything except the awareness. That is a quick way to put ourselves to sleep but at the same time maintain a spark of awareness through it all. Then when we fall asleep, our dreams will also be quite clear and we can recognize them as dreams. We will wake up in a state of clarity and awareness. This is one of the reasons why Tibetans in retreats like to sit up and not lie down to sleep because then it’s much easier to maintain awareness. Once we lie down, our awareness tends to spread out, and then it blanks out altogether. It is an art to carry on enough so that we still have the awareness there, but not so much that we can’t sleep at all. Practice!
Q: Sometimes, I find that I am much more awake and alive if I meditate at night instead of sleep. Can I do this?
JTP: Sure, if the next day you are not overly tired. If we are meditating, our mind is relaxed but alert, and actually that is a much more relaxing state of mind than most people’s dream state. Our mind is refreshed at very deep levels, but we have to be sure what our body is feeling. So if our mind is feeling very bright and spacious but our body is tired, then we should be cautious. People in retreat usually find that their sleeping time gets less and less. Sometimes, although they are meditating twenty-four hours a day for days on end, they end up feeling more alive and awake. During sleep we are often tossing and turning with endless dreams churning in the mind. That is much more exhausting. It is wonderful to meditate at night when it is so quiet and the world seems suspended, just as long as the body and mind are not affected adversely by fatigue later. It’s a very different experience to meditate at night than during the day.
Q: I’d like to ask you about headaches. Sometimes during meditation I feel like if I get too high, I get a bit of a pain, and if I shift my focus, the pain goes up. So I am wondering if that is something to avoid or something to just feel as a sensation.
JTP: What are you are meditating on?
Q: Just looking within and the breath.
JTP: How long has this been happening?
Q: Two months.
JTP: And does it happen every time you meditate on the breath, or only sometimes?
Q: Only sometimes.
JTP: The thing is that when we are meditating, sometimes we try to concentrate too hard and this brings stress to the brain. So it’s very important that when we concentrate we also have a mind that stays very relaxed. I cannot express to you how important it is to have a relaxed, and not a tense, mind. I think it is the tension that is giving you the headaches. While sitting and focusing on the ingoing and outgoing of the breath, do it in a way that is very spacious, very soft, and just ignore the rest of what is going on; try not to think about it. Just concentrate by gently bringing the attention to the breathing in and breathing out in a very relaxed way. At the same time, focus very clearly. It’s not like forcing yourself to do anything. There is no tension.
The Buddha said that meditation is like tuning guitar strings. If we tune them too tightly, they can snap. And if we tune too softly, we don’t get any sound. We have to learn how to tune our instrument to get the beautiful sound. So when we are meditating, we have to work with our mind to get this balance of open relaxation and precise awareness. If you feel that your mind is tense and you are getting headaches, just relax and very gently bring your attention back to the breathing in and breathing out. Maybe shorten the time you are sitting. How long do you sit?
Q: About an hour.
JTP: Maybe that is too long. Do twenty minutes, relax for ten minutes, and do another twenty minutes.
Q: I think some of the tension comes from wondering where to put meditation in the day—to maintain the discipline of continuing the practice, yet also be relaxed and at ease.
JTP: Yes, don’t push too hard. During the day, if you can, bring your attention back to the moment. It should not be a harsh discipline for the mind. Practice should be a cause of joy. If we consider our everyday life and our ordinary mind as a big lump of dough, then the practice of awareness is like the yeast. If we mix that with the dough, it lightens it up so that we can cook it and eat it. It’s not like having a big ball of uncooked dough in our tummy. It’s nourishing because of the yeast. So practice should be like yeast. It shouldn’t be like adding a pile of gravel so that our life becomes even more heavy.
Q: Perhaps I should retrain my horse a little bit.
JTP: Yes, be nice to your horse. Stroke him!
Q: I have a question about the breath: do we breathe through the nose or the mouth? I don’t understand the difference.
JTP: The Tibetans usually breathe through the nose. It’s a very simple thing: breathing in and breathing out. Here we are not particularly focusing on the breath just below the nostrils; it’s just a general knowing of the breath coming in and the breath going out. But if it helps the concentration to become more clear then we can localize it. Or we can concentrate at a point just below the navel. We can feel the breath coming in and out. On the other hand, some people have problems with their breath. They get anxious. They get anxiety attacks. In that case, it might be better to use a different object of meditation.
Q: I’d like to ask a question about the gaze because I used to meditate with my eyes closed. Recently I learned to meditate with my eyes open, and I found two things: if I start to fall into that sluggish state, I lift my gaze. I just don’t quite understand the quality of the gaze. Sometimes I sort of blur my gaze, as I get distracted by what is in front of me.
JTP: The reason why the Tibetans, Japanese, and Chinese emphasized the gaze with eyes open is because of the connection between the eye organ and the subtle energies of the body. If the gaze is unwavering, it helps the subtle energies to enter into the central channel, which then means the mind quickly becomes one-pointed and calm.
When I first started to meditate, my old yogi teacher handed me a small pebble and I had to put it in front of me and concentrate on it. They suggest a pebble because one cannot be too fascinated by the object; there cannot be too many ideas about it. If the object is a crystal, then we sit there thinking about crystals, and so on. A pebble is a pebble. And as a pebble doesn’t reflect light, it doesn’t hurt the eyes. It is just there. The idea is to first learn how to focus the gaze and thus learn how to focus the mind. To keep the mind one-pointed on the pebble is quite an achievement, and so that is good training. We don’t stare at it. We kind of unfocus our eyes a bit, but keep looking at one point. At first it’s a strain for the eyes: they start to water, and so then we close them and open them again.
If we meditate with closed eyes, there is a subtle darkness in the mind. We can become a bit too disconnected with the outside environment. Keeping our eyes open a little, not wide open but slightly, keeps us grounded and that is very important in Buddhist meditation. Initially, it is more difficult than keeping the eyes closed, but in the end, the rewards are great. So you should keep practicing that. Get yourself a little pebble, and go for it!
7
Lojong and Bodhichitta
P
before ourselves is an attitude that in Mahayana Buddhism is called mind training, or
lojong
in Tibetan. As we learn to generate great compassion and become clear in our motivation regarding others and ourselves, we deepen our spiritual practice. Lojong is a means for opening ourselves to life.
Buddhist practitioners may be said to comprise those who practice the path for personal liberation and those who practice for universal liberation. Even in the Theravada tradition as recorded in the Pali canon, the Buddha elucidated these two paths—the path of individual liberation achieved by an arhat, and the bodhisattva path which leads to complete enlightenment. The Buddha himself relates how in a past life, when he was still a bodhisattva, he made the profound decision to renounce immediate nirvana as an arhat in order to carry on for many more aeons and become a Buddha out of compassion for the world.
After the Buddha entered into Mahaparinirvana, a Buddhist council was convened with five hundred arhats. The basic canon was recited, and the arhats agreed on what would be included. Now even at that time, as is reported in the canon, a group of monks called the Maha Sangha, or the great community, said at the end of the recitation, “Well, that’s very fine, and you’ve recited it very nicely, but we didn’t hear it that way. That’s not what we heard the Buddha say, so you can go ahead with your version and we will keep ours. Thank you.” And they left. Interestingly, we don’t know who these people actually were. What did they hear? Their version seems to have died out, unless it was incorporated into later traditions.
After the Buddha’s Mahaparinirvana, monks set out in all directions across India, and within a relatively short time, what are called the eighteen schools developed. These schools maintained their sutras in different languages. It should be understood that the Buddha probably didn’t speak Pali, which I think was a West Indian dialect. Historians think that the Buddha probably spoke Prakrit, but in any case most of the different lineages kept their sutras in Sanskrit which was the literary language of the day. But for three hundred years nobody wrote down the canon. It was all memorized and passed on orally.
It happened that the great Emperor Ashoka followed in particular the teachings of the Pali canon, in the school of the Theravada, and so when his son, who was a monk arhat, was sent to Sri Lanka, this school was transmitted there. Eventually it spread out through Thailand, Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and so forth. Later on, when Buddhism more or less died out in India, the only lineages among those eighteen schools still left in the world were the Theravada and those lineages carried and preserved in East Asia, such as in China and Tibet.
On a deep level, the main concern in Buddhism is how to gain liberation. This means that whichever Buddhist country we travel to, we find that behind the basic ethical and social protocol of being a Buddhist there is the understanding that our minds are deluded and need to be liberated. It is as if we are sinking in the swamp of samsara. Our real reason then for having a human life is to rescue ourselves and get out onto dry land. But surely, just from an ordinary point of view, if we do get out onto dry land, our next action would be to turn and pull out all the others. The only point in being on dry land is to be in a position to rescue everyone else. This is the main divide between the so-called Hinayana schools and the Mahayana schools, the
motivation
for liberation. Do we want to be free in order just to be free ourselves? Or do we want to be free so that we are in a position to free others? That is really the big difference.
Being a Buddhist is not a matter of particular practices or robes or what we outwardly call ourselves. We can do vipassana practices wearing a Theravadin robe, but with a bodhisattva motivation, and be on a Mahayana path. We can practice the highest tantras, and if our real motivation is to just liberate ourselves or gain power for ourselves, then we are on a Hinayana path. Hinayana does not have anything to do with Theravada per se: it has to do with our motivation as to why we practice. I know a number of Theravadin monks and nuns who have taken the bodhisattva vow, and even some Catholic monks and nuns who have taken the vow as well. They don’t stop being Theravadin; they don’t stop being Catholic. It has nothing to do with that. Spiritual practice has everything to do with our inner motivation.
We have been born endlessly in samsara millions of times and in all realms of existence. We have been born not only as humans but as animals, insects, gods, beings in the hell realms, ghosts, or as anything we can imagine. We have all gone through it over and over, and through all these countless lives we have been interconnected with all beings.
All beings at some time have been our mother; therefore, we have a very deep and close connection with every sentient being. But we have forgotten this. When we meet others now, they look like strangers. And yet just as we wish to care for and liberate our mother in this present lifetime, so can we likewise extend our wish to include all beings. Naturally then the question arises: what is the best and most lasting way that we can be of benefit to our mother, and not just for this lifetime but through endless lifetimes? Clearly the best way to be of help is to see to it that one’s mother attains liberation from the endless round of birth and death. We can see to it that she is finally safe and on dry land. But how can we liberate others when we ourselves are still trapped in samsara? We vow, therefore, to attain enlightenment for the sake of all our mother sentient beings.
Our whole attitude toward life is altered when we open ourselves to the bodhisattva vow. It means that our spiritual progress unfolds for the sake of others. Yes, we benefit ourselves, but the ultimate intent is to prepare ourselves so that we can really be of benefit to others. Suppose we are sick and decide that the best way to heal ourselves is to become a doctor. But as we learn the necessary skills, we may realize that there are so many others who are also sick. Naturally, it makes more sense to train to become a doctor not just so we can heal ourselves but so we can heal others, too.
Sentient beings are infinite in number.
Beings
doesn’t mean just human beings but also animals and insects and beings in the spirit realms. There are so many beings, and in one lifetime it is not possible to liberate them all. Even the Buddha could not accomplish that. But we have endless lifetimes, and so we go for refuge, not until our present life ends but until enlightenment is reached and all sentient beings have been liberated. That is a long time. As bodhisattvas on the path, this attitude pervades everything we do, every meditation and all our prayers and service during our daily life. The ultimate aim is to spiritually advance and be able to genuinely benefit others. A very simple example comes to mind. I used to do a certain spiritual practice, and one evening I was feeling tired, and decided I wouldn’t bother to do it. But then I thought, “No, wait a minute. You’re not doing this for your sake. You’re a representative, the substitute for all the beings in the world who don’t know how to do this practice. You’re doing it on their behalf! So what are you saying, you don’t feel like it tonight, you’re a bit tired?” Immediately the whole situation changed and the energy to continue began to flow. Cherishing others is powerful motivation.
One of our main problems is that we put ourselves first. Even people who are usually very selfless still find that there is a sense of self which they are somehow protecting. If the
Eight Verses of Mind Training
seem extreme, it is because they deal with how we can consider others as being more precious than ourselves. This is why we are going to contemplate them and inquire into their meaning. They reveal how we can wear away our resistance to selflessness. Even feeling resistance to the thought of coming back endlessly into samsara out of compassion is a sign of strong self-cherishing. These eight verses offer methods to help us open to great compassion. Dedicating one’s life to serving others is very rare in this world. The bodhisattva vow takes this commitment a step further, transforming it into a genuine spiritual path that extends not just for this lifetime but for endless lifetimes.
Atisha Dipamkara, a great Indian pandita, left for Sumatra to study for years with the great master Dharmamati in order to understand this whole topic of bodhichitta, the aspiring mind that seeks enlightenment for the sake of others. Later, he went to Tibet and introduced the practice of mind training. He also started the Kadampa tradition. The text we will explore here, the
Eight Verses of Mind Training,
was written by Geshe Langri Thangpa, who lived in Tibet from the latter part of the eleventh century into the twelfth century.
Eight Verses of Mind Training
1
May I always cherish all beings
With the resolve to accomplish for them
The highest good that is more precious
Than any wish-fulfilling jewel.
Whenever I am in the company of others,
May I regard myself as inferior to all
And from the depths of my heart
Cherish others as supreme.
In all my actions may I watch my mind,
And as soon as disturbing emotions arise,
May I forcefully stop them at once,
Since they will hurt both me and others.
When I see ill-natured people,
Overwhelmed by wrong deeds and pain,
May I cherish them as something rare,
As though I had found a treasure-trove.
When someone out of envy does me wrong
By insulting me and the like,
May I accept defeat
And offer the victory to them.
Even if someone whom I have helped
And in whom I have placed my hopes
Does great wrong by harming me,
May I see them as an excellent spiritual friend.
In brief, directly or indirectly,
May I give all help and joy to my mothers,
And may I take all their harm and pain
Secretly upon myself.
May none of this ever be sullied
By thoughts of the eight worldly concerns.
May I see all things as illusions
And, without attachment, gain freedom from bondage.
1
. Translated by Ruth Sonam in
Eight Verses for Training the Mind
by Geshe Sonam Rinchen, translated and edited by Ruth Sonam (Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion Publications, 2001). Reprinted by permission.
This matter of training our mind so that we place others before ourselves underlies the whole of Tibetan Buddhism. For example, my own lama, the Eighth Khamtrul Rinpoche, was very quiet. When he was a young monk in Tibet he almost never spoke, and even in India he didn’t say much. He hardly ever gave any teachings. We learned through his example, by how he acted and not really by what he said. But when he gave the bodhisattva vow he would speak about bodhichitta and Mahayana mind training. He would just talk and talk and get so excited. Words would pour out of him, sometimes for hours. Khamtrul Rinpoche was so enthused by this idea of dedicating one’s whole life to the service of others and seeking enlightenment for their sake! He found it deeply inspiring.