Ethics and the Three Trainings

by Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo

Today we are going to discuss the role of ethical conduct in transforming our everyday lives into spiritual practice. Many of you probably realise that in Buddhist countries throughout Asia the main task of studying and practising has traditionally been carried out by monks and nuns. They are considered to be the professionals. They have the time to practice, and furthermore, lack the distraction of family and other worldly commitments. So it is expected that people who are really serious about practising will opt for the monastic life. The principal role of lay people is to support the monks. In return, the monks should exemplify the spiritual life well lived. They are also traditionally the teachers. The schools are run by monks, and children go to monasteries to study. The monks are also the traditional herbal doctors, marriage counsellors, psychologists and so on. Monasteries play a very central role in people's lives, and as I mentioned, the primary task of the lay people is to support them.

However, in the West, where Buddhism began to put down roots after 2,500 years, there was a shift in the patterns of practice. For the first time in the history of Buddhism, monks and nuns were no longer the majority of practising Buddhists. In the West, the majority of aspiring Buddhists wish to actively participate in the religion, but lack sufficient time to undertake the full range of traditional practices. They are people with families, careers and social lives who are nonetheless devoted to the teachings and wish to follow the spiritual path. This is a big challenge. Sometimes traditional teachers from Asia do not sufficiently appreciate this point, and so they make a distinction between what they regard as "spiritual practice" on the one hand, and "everyday life" on the other. According to this traditional approach, specific Dharma practices such as meditation, ritual, attending centres, and making offerings are considered to be spiritual activities, while the rest of life, such as being at home with the family, going to work, and social interaction are regarded as mere worldly activities. I once heard a very venerable lama, when asked by one of his Western disciples, "I have a family, children, and a job, so I don't have much time for spiritual practice, what should I do?" replied, "Never mind, when your children are grown up you can take early retirement, and then you can start to practice."

Lamas have said to me, "Oh, you are so lucky, Anila. I have so much work I don't have time to practice." This idea that only formal sitting, doing prostrations, going to the temple, listening to Dharma teachings, and reading religious books constitute practice, and the rest of the day is so much ballast, can cause us to feel very frustrated with our lives. We may end up resenting our families and our work, always dreaming of a time when we will be free to do "actual practice." We might spend the best part of our lives resenting those very circumstances which could provide us with the most profound means of progressing on the spiritual path. We must ask ourselves now, assuming most of us are not going to go off to do twelve-year retreats, "Does Dharma practice have any relevance to my life?" Because if there is no possibility of real practice outside of full monastic commitment, what use is Dharma to us in the West?

There are changes happening now, not in the practices themselves nor in the basic underlying philosophy, but in the emphasis. There is ample precedent to be found in Zen Buddhism, which teaches that everything we do, provided it is done with total awareness, is spiritual activity. On the other hand, if we perform an action distractedly, with only half our attention, it becomes just another worldly activity. It doesn't matter what it is. One could be a great master meditating upon a high throne, but unless one is present and conscious in the moment, it is meaningless to sit there. On the other hand, one might be sweeping leaves, chopping vegetables or cleaning toilets, and provided one maintains complete attention, all these activities become spiritual practices. That's why in films about Zen monasteries everything is done with such remarkable inner poise, with an air of being completely present in the moment.

Therein lies the key for those of us who have busy lives. We can convert actions we normally regard as routine, dull, and spiritually meaningless into Dharma practice, and transform our entire lives in the process. This is what I would like to discuss today. However, first I would like to talk a little about another aspect of using our everyday lives as spiritual practice. I inwardly wince at the word "spiritual," but I don't know what other word we have. Maybe I'll just call it "practice" and you will understand. I will use "practice" in this context to mean something which helps us to transform ourselves inwardly.

There are two separate aspects to bringing about this transformation, although they do converge. One is to create inner space. This is an inner centredness, inner silence, inner clarity, which enables us to begin seeing things more as they really are and not how we normally interpret them. The other aspect is learning to open up our hearts. In this talk I will be dealing more with the latter aspect. At the most basic level, this is about non-harming. It is about living in the world in a way which harms neither ourselves nor others, so that whoever comes into our orbit knows there is nothing to fear from us.

I should mention that the entire Buddhist path is based on three principles, called the three trainings. The first is training in ethics, or moral conduct, the second is training in meditation, and the third is training in wisdom. Nowadays everybody seems to be very interested in meditation. But to take meditation out of its context is like building the walls of a house without first laying the foundations: the walls may be very nice, but without a sturdy foundation, they are likely to collapse. I will explain these three aspects very briefly, so that you get a more complete idea of what the training is about.

Buddhist ethics are about putting harmlessness into practice. One of the main methods of training in ethics is to follow a code of precepts. There are five basic Buddhist precepts — not taking life, not stealing, not engaging in sexual misconduct, not telling untruths and not indulging in intoxicants. These are not commandments, they are simply tools to help us develop conduct which is non-harmful. We will discuss ethics in more detail a little later on when we look at the Six Perfections.

In order to develop meditation, we need to behave in ways which make the mind more peaceful, more simple, and more open. After all, meditation is not just about attaining inner peace. It is also concerned with opening up the heart. How can we talk about opening up the heart while we are indulging in any kind of conduct which harms others? These two kinds of action are in conflict. That's why the Buddha advised us to first understand how to live in this world as lightly as possible, without harming beings. Only then can the mind become settled.

We are each living in our own soap opera. We do not see things as they really are. We see only our own interpretations. This is because our minds are always so busy. When we try to look into the mind itself, we cannot see anything below our surface consciousness. But when the mind calms down, it becomes clear. This mental clarity enables us to see things as they really are, instead of projecting our commentary onto everything. When we look within, we can now see increasingly subtle levels of the psyche. This kind of meditation is called shamatha, which means "calm abiding meditation," or "tranquillising meditation." It is the first stage of meditation, and it is used to quiet the mind. But there is more to meditation after achieving shamatha. At this stage, although the mind has become quiet and peaceful, much of the rubbish is still there, lying below the surface. We can see it clearly now, but it certainly has not gone away.

In order to deal with this deep layer of rubbish, we need to practice vipaskyana, or insight meditation. This type of meditation involves activating a large question mark. In the Tibetan school especially, we question the whole concept of thought and emotion and we ask, "Who is the thinker?" Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am." From a Buddhist perspective, all we can say is, "I think, therefore there are thoughts." The fact that there are thoughts does not necessarily imply there is a thinker. We say, "I think, I feel, I want or I don't want." But who is this "I" appearing like a spider in the middle of a web? We ask, "What is a thought?" We don't know, yet we are thinking continually. But how often do we turn the focus of our attention onto the actual thought or onto the mind itself and ask,"What is a thought? What does it feel like? Where does it come from? How long does it stay? Where does it go?" We can ask the same kinds of questions about our emotions. We may say, "I'm angry." But what is anger? Where is it? How does it feel? Who is angry? Who is this "I" we posit in relation to everything? In a way, you could say vipashyana meditation is like peeling away layers from an onion. We question until we begin to ask ourselves, "Where is this essential 'I'? What is it?" The moment we understand this, we understand everything. Once we pass beyond our ordinary conditioned level of thinking to deeper and subtler layers, we reach a state known as "the unconditioned."

Our normal mode of thinking is based on dualism. It is based on "I" and what "I" am thinking or doing. Practising vipashyana brings us into direct contact with non-dual awareness. For example, if we were to look up at the sky on a cloudy day, we would normally associate ourselves with the obscuring clouds of our thoughts and emotions — whether they be white, black, or shades in between. We rarely associate ourselves with the vast blue sky of naked awareness. The sky is infinite. Where does it begin? Where does it end? It is because we identify with the clouds rather than the sky that we suffer. As we go deeper and deeper into questions such as, "Who are we, what is an emotion, what is a thought," we give rise to what is called wisdom.

Wisdom has nothing to do with intellectual knowledge. Intellectual knowledge can be very helpful. It can clarify things. But there is an enormous difference between "knowing about" and "knowing." Knowing has the sense of direct experience. We could read many books on sugar, for example. We could learn its chemical components, how it's made, how it's produced, the different kinds of sugars, how long sugar has been used by the human race, the kind of sugars we have in the body, how carbohydrates convert into sugar. We could become "experts" on sugar. But until we taste sugar, we do not know sugar. We only know about it.

Wisdom occurs when we become what we experience. It is the nature of direct realization to transform. Once this happens, we will never be the same again. It doesn't mean that we are totally enlightened. Some people imagine that they are going to sit and meditate for a while and then, in the space of one minute, they're suddenly going to get this big breakthrough full of bright lights, trumpets, angels, and flowers falling. It's not like that. Actually, when we meditate we do experience little breakthroughs, like tiny flashes of the unconditioned mind. But that's just the beginning of the process. It's certainly not the end!

Wisdom is a huge subject. It is all about understanding the underlying spacious and empty quality of the person and of all experienced phenomena. It is the direct result of our inward search. It is not something we can learn from books. It has to be directly experienced. To attain this quality of deep insight, we must have a mind which is both quiet and malleable. Achieving such a state of mind requires that we first develop the ability to regulate our body and speech so as to cause no conflict. In this way, all of the three trainings rely on and support each other, like a triangle in which each side is needed to support the other two. You can't take one part away and expect the triangle to remain.

The three trainings are to help us develop the Six Perfections, or paravnitas, which are transcendental qualities needed for making progress towards enlightenment. There are actually many qualities involved, but six are included in the traditional framework These are giving, or generosity; ethics, or moral conduct; patience, or tolerance; enthusiastic effort; meditation; and wisdom. You will notice that meditation is just one of the six qualities. What about giving, ethics, and patience? Perfecting these first three qualities, which are essential for attaining the full spiritual path, requires a social context. Living in isolation, one might put out crumbs for the birds to develop the quality of giving, one might have patience with the howling of the wind or the fact that it is still snowing day after day, but beyond that, what? We really need other people around if we are to develop the first three perfections. How can we learn to give if we have no one to give to? Giving is placed first because it is something that we can all do right now. We don't have to be ethically perfect, we don't have to be great meditators, we don't have to develop great patience and avoid anger in all circumstances. We can be extremely flawed, extremely problematic people, but still be generous. Giving opens up the heart, which is another reason why it is placed first.

While I was in England, I had some friends who were English Sufis. Their sheik was in Morocco. These friends had a son who was about three years old. One day they had given him a box of sweets and suggested he offer one to me. His immediate reaction was, "No, they're mine!" His father said, "Yes, of course they are yours. That's why you can share them with others." The little boy thought about that, then he smiled. He opened up the box and not only gave one to me, but offered them to everybody in the room, with a big smile. That was right. They were his, therefore he could offer them to others!

Do we think about our possessions that way? How lucky we are to possess this so we can share it with others! That is the first lesson, the first opening up of our hearts to acknowledge those around us. Not just giving away things we don't want anyway — although that could be a start — but also giving things because we really like them. This is a beautiful way to relate to people, and we can do this any time. People understand about generosity in the East. They believe that everything that comes about happens due to causes and conditions, so if they want to be prosperous, they have to create the causes for future prosperity. The cause of prosperity is generosity. Knowing this, they are very happy to give and very grateful to the recipient for enabling them to accumulate this good karma. Not only does it help them to open up their hearts, but it also plants seeds for their future prosperity. For this reason, when a person gives something, the recipient doesn't say "thank you," because it is the giver who should give thanks for the opportunity to manifest generosity.

We can begin by giving in small ways. If we meet some friends, we can buy them coffee. If we have two of something nice, we can give one to someone else. I know a swami who lives in India. Apparently he is quite well known. People are always giving him gifts, including nice things from abroad, which are highly coveted in India. What struck me about him is that his first thought upon receiving anything is always, "Who can I give this to? Who would be an appropriate recipient?" He never retains anything for himself, but he is always happy!

The second quality which we can easily incorporate into our everyday lives is ethics. The basics of Buddhist ethics are the five precepts. The wording used for undertaking these precepts says, "I undertake the rule of training to . . . " In other words, they are not commandments. The Buddha did not say, "Thou shall not. . ." He just said, "This is a rule of training to develop conduct which harms neither oneself nor others."

The first of these five precepts is not to take life. That means not to kill intentionally. This includes not taking the life of any being, not just humans, but also animals, fish, insects and any creature possessing consciousness. Each being regards its own life as its most precious possession, just as we regard our life as our most precious possession. There is a story about a king who reigned at the time of the Buddha. One day he was standing on a balcony with his chief queen. He asked her, "In all the world, whom do you love the most?" She was thoughtful for a while, then answered, "You know, I think in all the world, I love myself the most, what about you?" The king thought about that for a while, then said, "Hmm, actually that's true. When it comes down to it, in all the world, I love myself the most." Then he went to the Buddha and related this discussion to him. "What do you think?" he asked. The Buddha answered, "That's true. Each being is the most dear to itself. And because of that, we should neither harm, nor cause harm." As I mentioned earlier, the entire system of Buddhist ethics is based on the principle of non-harming. This covers not harming ourselves as well as not harming others. It is about living in such a way that every being who comes into our presence knows we are no threat to its well-being and that it is completely safe with us.

The second precept is not to take that which is not given, in other words, not stealing. This precept is taken very seriously in Buddhist countries. For example, when monks and nuns go to someone's home, they are not supposed to even pick something up to admire it, lest their action be interpreted as a wish to take it. We are supposed to actually hand things to them. Even if we invite them to lunch, we are supposed to hand them each thing, so that there is no question they are taking something which was not offered. In some Buddhist countries, monks and nuns follow this very scrupulously indeed. This is another aspect of harmlessness. People must know that they can trust us, that we won't take anything from them, because we don't like people taking things from us. This also applies to returning things that we borrow. We must return them promptly, in as good a condition as when we borrowed them. We must respect other people's property, just as we want others to respect ours.

The third precept concerns avoiding sexual misconduct. This means not engaging in any kind of sexual behaviour which could cause harm to oneself or to another. That involves taking responsibility for our actions. We must not simply seek immediate gratification, but consider the long-term results and implications of our actions. It's not really a matter of whom we sleep with or what kind of sex we have. The question we must always ask ourselves is, "Is anyone being harmed by this behaviour? Could anyone be harmed by this behaviour?" Adultery is therefore always regarded as harmful because it hurts people and leads to jealousy, deception, and lack of trust.

The fourth precept is against telling untruths. Keeping this precept ensures that people can trust what we tell them. They know that we are telling them what we believe to be true. At the same time, our speech should be helpful. It should not only be truthful, but also kind. Some people pride themselves on having very truthful speech, but that truthful speech can actually be quite mean. It's interesting to notice that when people pride themselves on telling the truth, they usually mean truths which are hurtful to others! I remember an occasion that took place when I was young, just after the war. At that time everything in England was rationed, including food and clothing. We had clothes coupons and we would eagerly save them up to buy something new, which was a big treat. My mother had bought a cream-coloured coat. She put it on to show me. She was very pleased because she hardly ever got new clothes. She asked, "What do you think?" I said, "It makes you look fat." What I said was true. It did make her appear fat. But the look of hurt and disappointment on her face was heartbreaking. She took the coat off and put it in her wardrobe. She never wore it or even looked at it again. I could have said, "Yes that's a nice colour," or, "The cloth is nice," or "That's an interesting design." These statements would have been just as true. When we tell the truth, we also have to remember it should not just be truth; it should be helpful and kind. We must remember that our aim is not to harm others, and that includes considering their feelings.

The fifth precept is against taking intoxicants. This one is not very popular in the West. Many people say, "Oh, it really just means not getting roaring drunk." Actually the precept doesn't say that you should not get drunk. It says that you should not indulge in intoxicants. Why not? Well, first of all, Buddhism is a path of increasing awareness and clarity of mind. It is all about increasing our mastery over the mind, not weakening it. Indulging in intoxicants is counterproductive because it clouds the mind. Not only that, it opens the door to all our negative qualities. When people are drunk, their best qualities do not emerge. People rarely get drunk and then go and join Mother Theresa. More often, they get drunk and beat up their wives!

There's a Tibetan story which illustrates this. There was once a monk who was living in a mountain cave and meditating. His benefactor down below would bring up food from time to time. His daughter would carry up the supplies, and over time, she became completely smitten with this monk. Eventually, she suggested to the monk that he sleep with her. He said, "I couldn't possibly do that. I'm a celibate monk. What are you talking about? No way." She was greatly disappointed as she returned down the mountain. The next time she went, she took a goat up with her. Then she said to the monk, "If you won't sleep with me, at least slaughter this goat so we can enjoy a feast together." "Are you out of your mind?" he replied. "I'm a Buddhist monk. I don't kill. Just go away." So back down the mountain she went, musing to herself, "That Buddhist monk is very difficult to trick."

The next time, she returned with a big jug of Tibetan beer, which is known as chang. She said, "Okay, this is my ultimatum. Either you make love to me or we eat the goat. Otherwise, at least share this chang with me. If you don't do any of these things, I will despair and kill myself." The monk pondered, "What to do? I can't be the cause of this poor girl losing her life. The least harmful of these things would be to drink the chang." So he said, "Okay, we'll drink the chang." And they did. Of course, the monk got completely drunk. Then he made love to the girl. In celebration of that, they slaughtered the goat and had a big party!

Alcohol in itself is not a problem. The problem is that it opens the floodgates to all our negative actions, so we should be very careful about using it. Drunken drivers kill people not because they are evil, but because they have lost possession of their faculties. I correspond with a prisoner in America who is serving a twenty-six-year sentence for a drunken driving incident in which he killed a mother and her daughter. Not only did his drunken driving take the lives of those two people, but in a way, it took his life too. Twenty-six years is a long time to be imprisoned!

Buddhist ethics are based on the conduct of a completely realised being. A completely realised being would naturally not take life, steal, indulge in sexual misconduct, tell lies, or take intoxicants. By living in a harmless way, we are bringing our actions into conformity with those of a fully awakened being. I think you can see that these precepts are not just culturally conditioned. It is not accurate to say that they were relevant 2,500 years ago in northern India, but lack relevance in the modern world. In fact, they are just as relevant — if not more relevant — in today's society, based as it is on greed and violence. Adhering to these ethics is like building the foundation of a house — it's not exciting work. Nobody ever described the job of laying foundations as thrilling. But it can nonetheless be very rewarding. If you build solid foundations, you can then build up sturdy walls easily and quickly. On the other hand, if the foundations are weak, the walls will be unstable, however attractive they may appear. If we make our conduct pure, helpful, and non-harming, our minds will become serene. We will have less conflict. We will have nothing to reproach ourselves with. From this firm base, we can begin to practice meditation. I am not saying that our conduct has to be absolutely impeccable before we can begin to meditate. But if we persist wilfully in behaviour such as hunting animals, beating up our wives or children, shoplifting on the weekend, delighting in malicious scandals, or conducting illicit love affairs, our minds will be too agitated to meditate properly. In fact, it would be counterproductive for us even to try.

It is very important for us to try to lead a life which does not harm our own bodies and minds, because we are responsible for them. We should be mindful of how we nourish them, just as we take care to fuel our cars with high quality gasoline and good oil. We don't pour kerosene or other harmful substances into the engine because we know it will cause damage. We are careful to look after our cars, but we take less care with our bodies. We put all sorts of harmful things into the body. We need to take more responsibility for ourselves, our minds, and our place in society. Buddhists spend a lot of time sitting and meditating on loving-kindness and compassion and sending out loving-kindness and compassion to all beings. But if we do not have compassion towards ourselves, how can we expect to send it out to others?

It's relatively easy to sit on our cushion and think, "May all sentient beings be well and happy," and send out thoughts of loving-kindness to all those little sentient beings out there on the horizon somewhere! Then somebody comes in and tells us there is a telephone call and we answer crossly, "Go away. I'm doing my loving-kindness meditation." The best place for us to begin our Dharma practice is with our family. We have the strongest karmic connections with family members; therefore, we have a great responsibility for developing our relationships with them. If we cannot develop loving-kindness towards our family, why even talk about other beings? If we really want to open up our heart, it has to be to those directly connected to us, such as our partners, children, parents, and siblings. This is always a difficult task, because we need to overcome deeply entrenched behavioural patterns.

I think this can be especially challenging with couples. Sometimes I think it would be a good idea to have a tape recorder or even a video camera to record how couples relate to each other, so they could see and hear themselves interacting later on. He says this, she says that, every time, and each time the responses are so unskillful. They get locked into a pattern. They cause pain to themselves and to those around them, including their children, and they can't get out. Putting loving-kindness into practice really helps loosen the tight patterns we have developed over many years. It's sometimes a very good idea just to close our eyes, then open them and look at the person in front of us — especially if it's someone we know very well, like our partner, our child or our parents — and really try to see them as if for the first time. This may help us to appreciate their good qualities, which will then aid us in developing loving-kindness for them.

The third of the Six Perfections requiring the presence of other people is patience. Patience is the antidote to anger. From a Dharma perspective, patience is considered extremely important. The Buddha praised it as the greatest austerity. We must develop this wonderful, wide, expansive quality. It has nothing to do with suppressing or repressing or anything like that; rather, it's about developing an open heart. In order to develop this, we need to have contact with people who annoy us. You see, when people are being loving and kind towards us, saying the things we want to hear and doing all the things we want them to do, it may feel great but we don't learn anything. It's very easy to love people who are lovable. The real test comes with people who are being absolutely obnoxious!

I'll tell you a story. Have any of you ever heard of Saint Therese of Lisieux? She is sometimes called the "Little Flower." For those of you who haven't, she was a girl from a middle-class French family living in Normandy. She became a Carmelite nun at the age of fifteen and died of tuberculosis at the end of the nineteenth century when she was only twenty-four. She is now the patron saint of France, along with Joan of Arc. She lived in a small enclosed Carmelite nunnery with about thirty other women. Four of her sisters were also nuns in the same nunnery. Her eldest sister was the Mother Superior.

You have to try to imagine life in a contemplative order. You see only the other people in the group. You haven't chosen them. It's not like you choose all your best friends to come into the order. You go in there and then find out what you've got. You are going to sit next to the one who came before you and the one who came after you for your entire life. You have no choice. You eat with them, sleep with them, pray with them and spend your recreation time with them. It is as if all of us here in this room were suddenly told, "This is it, folks! You are never going to see anyone else for the rest of your lives. You didn't choose each other, but here you all are." Imagine!

Now there was one nun whom Therese absolutely could not abide. She didn't like anything about this woman — the way she looked, the way she walked, the way she talked or the way she smelled. Therese was quite fastidious. The nuns used to have silent contemplation in the morning in a big stone chapel, where all the sounds reverberated. This nun used to sit in front of Therese and make strange clicking noises. The noises weren't rhythmic, so she never knew when the next click was going to happen. She was supposed to be contemplating, but instead she would be drenched in cold sweat, just waiting for the next click to come. She knew that she would be around her for the rest of her life and that the woman was never going to change. Eventually, she realised that it was no use trying to escape by slipping down a corridor whenever she saw the woman approaching. Obviously something about her was pleasing to God, because he had called on her to become a bride of Christ.

Therese decided there must be something beautiful about this nun which she was unable to see. She realised that, as this woman was not going to change, the only thing that could change would be Therese herself. So, instead of nursing her aversion or avoiding the woman, she began to go out of her way to meet her and to be as charming to her as if she were her closest friend. She began to make her little presents, and to anticipate the woman's needs. She always gave her her very nicest smile, right from her heart. She did everything she possibly could to treat this woman as though she were her most beloved friend. One day the woman said to her, "I really don't know why you love me so much." Therese thought, "If you only knew!"

Through acting in this way, Therese became genuinely fond of this woman. She was no longer a problem to her, but nothing about the woman had actually changed. I am sure she still sat there clicking away, oblivious. Yet everything had changed. The problem had been surmounted, and for Therese there was a great deal of inner growth. She didn't perform any great miracles. She didn't have any great visions. She did something very simple, which we are all capable of doing — she changed her attitude. We cannot transform the world, but we can transform our mind. And when we transform our mind, lo

and behold, the entire world is transformed!

Shantideva, the seventh-century Indian scholar, wrote that the earth is full of pebbles, sharp rocks and thistles. So how can we avoid stubbing our toes? Are we going to carpet the whole earth? No one is rich enough to carpet the entire earth wall to wall. But if we take a piece of leather and apply it to the bottom of our soles as sandals or shoes, we can walk everywhere. We don't need to change the whole world and all the people in it to our specifications. There are billions of people out there but only one "me." How can I expect them all to do exactly what I want? But we don't need that. All we need do is change our attitude. We can consider the persons who annoy us and cause us the greatest problems as our greatest friends. They are the ones who help us to learn and to transform.

Once when I was in South India, I went to see an astrologer and told him, "I have two choices. Either I can go back into retreat or I can start a nunnery. What should I do?" He looked at me and said, "If you go back into retreat, it will be very peaceful, very harmonious, very successful, and everything will be fine. If you start a nunnery, there will be lots of conflicts, lots of problems, lots of difficulties, but both are good, so you decide. "I thought, "Back into retreat, quick!" Then I met a Catholic priest and mentioned it to him. He said, "It's obvious. You start the nunnery. What is the use of always seeking tranquillity and avoiding challenges?" He said we are like rough pieces of wood. Trying to smooth our ragged edges down with velvet and silk won't work. We need sandpaper. The people who annoy us are our sandpaper. They are going to make us smooth. If we regard those who are extremely irritating as our greatest helpers on the path, we can learn a lot. They cease to be our problems and instead become our challenges.

A tenth-century Bengali pandita named Palden Atisha reintroduced Buddhism into Tibet. He had a servant who was really awful. He was abusive to Atisha, disobedient, and generally a big problem. The Tibetans asked Atisha what he was doing with such an awful guy who was so completely obnoxious. They said, "Send him back. We'll take care of you." Atisha replied, "What are you talking about? He is my greatest teacher of patience. He is the most precious person around me!" Patience does not mean suppression, and it doesn't mean bottling up our anger or turning it in on ourselves in the form of self blame. It means having a mind which sees everything that happens as the result of causes and conditions we have set in motion at some time in this or past lives. Who knows what our relationship has been with someone who is causing us difficulties now? Who knows what we may have done to him in another life! If we respond to such people with retaliation, we are just locking ourselves into that same cycle. We are going to have to keep replaying this part of the movie again and again in this and future lifetimes. The only way to break out of the cycle is by changing our attitude.

When the Communists took over Tibet, they imprisoned many monks, nuns, and lamas. These people had done nothing wrong. They were merely there at the time. Some were imprisoned in Chinese labour camps for twenty or thirty years and are only now being released. A while back, I met a monk who had been imprisoned for twenty-five years. He had been tortured and treated badly, and his body was pretty much a wreck. But his mind! When you looked into his eyes, far from seeing bitterness, brokenness, or hatred in them, you could see that they were glowing. He looked as though he had just spent twenty-five years in retreat! All he talked about was his gratitude to the Chinese. They had really helped him develop overwhelming love and compassion towards those who caused him harm. He said, "Without them I would have just continued mouthing platitudes." But because of his imprisonment, he had had to draw on his inner strength. In such circumstances, you either go under or you surmount. When he emerged from prison, he felt nothing but love and understanding towards his captors.

Once I read a book by Jack London. I can't remember the title. It was called something about the stars. It was a story about a college professor who had murdered his wife and was in San Quentin prison. The prison guards did not like this guy at all. He was too intelligent. So they did everything they could to harass him. One of the things they did was to bind people in very rigid canvas sac kino and pull it tight so that they could hardly move or breathe, and their whole body would feel crushed. If anyone stayed in this for more than forty-eight hours, they died. They would continually put the professor in this for twenty-four or thirty hours at a time. While he was wrapped up like this, because the pain was unendurable, he began to have out-of-body experiences. Eventually he began to go through past lives. Then he saw his interrelationships in past lives with the people who were tormenting him. At the end of the book he was about to be hanged, but he felt nothing but love and understanding towards his tormentors. He really understood why they were doing what they were doing. He felt their inner unhappiness, confusion, and anger which were creating the scenario.

In our own modest way, we too must develop the ability to transform negative occurrences and take them on the path. We learn much more from our pain than from our pleasures. This doesn't mean we have to go out and look for pain — far from it. But when pain comes to us, in whatever form, instead of resenting it and creating more pain, we can see it as a great opportunity to grow — to get out of our normal thinking patterns, such as, "He doesn't like me, so I'm not going to like him." We can begin to transcend all that and use this method to open up the heart. The Buddha once said, "If somebody gives you a gift and you don't accept it, to whom does the gift belong?" The disciples answered, "It belongs to the person who gave it." Then the Buddha said, "Well, I do not accept your verbal abuse. So it's yours." We don't have to accept it. We can make our minds like a vast open space. If you throw mud into open space, it doesn't sully the space. It only sullies the hand of the person who threw it. This is why it is so important to develop patience and learn how to transform negative events and negative people into a positive spiritual response.