In the Spirit of Chan

by Venerable Sheng Yen

Perhaps some of you have heard the sayings “Chan is not established on words and language” and “Chan is a transmission outside conventional teachings.” But if Chan does not rely on words, why would anyone want to read a Chan book? Isn’t that a contradiction? Although Chan is not established on words, it has, among the many sects of Buddhism in China, left behind the most writing. The primary goal of these writings, however, is to show you or teach you that “Chan is not established on words and language” and that “Chan is a transmission outside the conventional teachings.” So there is a reason for you to read such a book.

The word “Chan” can mean enlightenment, and enlightenment can be understood to mean realising “the first meaning,” or “the ultimate truth.” In Chan, there is also what is called “secondary meaning,” or “conventional truth.” Conventional truth can be expressed in words and concepts, but the primary or ultimate, truth of Chan cannot be expressed in words. In the Chan tradition, sometimes the ultimate truth is compared to the moon, and the conventional truth is compared to a finger pointing at the moon. No one would mistake the finger for the moon. Words, language, ideas, and concepts are like the finger and can express just the conventional truth. These words and concepts only point to the ultimate truth. The ultimate truth can be called mind, original nature, or Buddha-nature It is something everyone must experience for himself or herself. It can never be fully described.

What is the source of Chan? According to the Chan lore, the monk Bodhidharma brought Chan from India to China in about 500 C.E., more than a thousand years after Shakyamuni Buddha’s death. But Indian history contains few records of the interim period, so we know relatively little about the origins of Chan practice.

We do know stories and legends that describe the origins of Chan. Most famous is the account of the transmission of the Dharma to Mahakashyapa, one of the Buddha’s chief disciples, who became the First Patriarch in the Chan lineage. The story is this: one day during a sermon at Vulture Peak, Shakyamuni Buddha held a flower in his hand in front of the assembly and did not speak. No one seemed to know what this gesture meant, but Mahakashyapa smiled. The Buddha said, “The Treasure of the Eye of the True Dharma, the Wondrous Mind of Nirvana; only Mahakashyapa understands.” This event marks the beginning of the Chan lineage and the master-to–disciple transmission that continues to this day. This story was unknown to Buddhist history until the tenth-century Song dynasty. But the literal truth of the story is not as important as the message it contains about the nature of Chan.

Shakyamuni Buddha had two other disciples, one very bright and the other quite dull. The first disciple, Ananda, had a powerful mind and a fabulous memory. However, he never attained enlightenment during Shakyamuni’s lifetime. Ananda thought that Buddha would reward his intelligence with enlightenment. It never happened. After Buddha entered nirvana, Ananda hoped Mahakashyapa would help him.

After Buddha’s passing, Mahakashyapa tried to gather 500 enlightened disciples together in order to collect and record the Buddha’s teachings. He could find only 499. Some suggested that he invite Ananda, but Mahakashyapa said that Ananda was not enlightened and therefore was unqualified for the assembly. He said that he would rather not have the gathering at all than allow Ananda’s attendance.

But Ananda persisted. Three times he was turned away by Mahakashyapa. Ananda said, “Buddha has entered nirvana. Now only you can help me reach enlightenment!” Mahakashyapa said, “I’m very busy. I cannot be of help. Only you can help yourself.” At last, Ananda realised that he had to rely on his own efforts if he wished to attain enlightenment. He went off to a solitary and secluded place. As he was about to sit down, he attained enlightenment! Why? At that moment he relied on no one and dropped all of his attachments.

Another story describes the dim-witted disciple named Suddhipanthaka, or Small Path. All except Small Path could remember Buddha’s teachings. If he tried to remember the first word of a phrase, he forgot the second, and vice versa. Buddha gave him the job of sweeping the ground since he didn’t seem fit to do anything else.

After he had swept the ground for a very long time, Small Path asked, “The ground is clean, but is my mind-ground clean?” At that moment everything dropped from his mind. He went to see the Buddha, who was very pleased with his accomplishment and affirmed that Small Path had become enlightened.

These are recorded in the early texts as true stories, but their meaning goes beyond their original context. The first story illustrates that in practice, knowledge and intelligence do not necessarily guarantee enlightenment and the second story shows that even a slow person can attain enlightenment. Although Shakyamuni Buddha, Mahakashyapa, and Shariputra were people of great learning, Chan has less to do with great learning than with the problem of the mind that is filled with attachments. Enlightenment can be reached only when one’s mind is rid of attachments.

It is said that twenty-eight generations of transmissions occurred from the time of Mahakashyapa to the time of Bodhidharma, who is considered the First Patriarch of Chinese Chan. His teachings were transmitted through a single line for five generations until the time of the Sixth Patriarch, Huineng (638-713), whose many disciples established many branches, some of which still survive today. I am the 62nd lineage holder of Chan from Huineng and the 57th generation in the Linji (810-866) tradition. In the Caodong lineage, I am the 50th generation descendant of the co-founder, Master Dongshan (807-869).

Chan is not precisely the Buddhism brought by Bodhidharma from India, but Bodhidharma brought certain insights to China, and the Chan tradition is related to these. He taught that everything comes from the mind, that the nature of the mind is Buddha-nature, that Buddha-nature is inherent in every sentient being, and that the essential method for realizing this original nature is beholding the mind. These ideas were controversial when they were first presented in China because they seemed to contradict the more complicated philosophies and practices of other Buddhist schools, but they are really just basic Buddhism, stripped to its essence.

There is a famous story about the enlightenment of Bodhidharma’s disciple Huike that illustrates the bare-bones nature of Bodhidharma’s Chan. Huike went to Bodhidharma and said, “Master, could you calm my mind for me?” Bodhidharma said, “Hand over your mind and I will calm it for you!” Huike searched within and then told Bodhidharma that he could not find his mind. Bodhidharma then said, “There, I have already calmed your mind for you.” This is the account of Huike’s enlightenment. Those of you who have been on retreat and suffered a lot of pain in your legs from sitting meditation apparently need not have done so. Unfortunately, you did not meet Bodhidharma.

There is an important work attributed to Bodhidharma called The Two Entries and Four Practices, in which he details more explicitly what sentient beings must do to realise their true nature. The “two entries” are entry through principle and entry through practice. Entry through principle means directly seeing the first principle, or original nature, without relying on words, descriptions, concepts, experience, or any thinking process. Entry through practice refers to the gradual training of the mind.

Bodhidharma describes entry through principle as follows: “Leaving behind the false, return to the true; make no discriminations between self and others. In contemplation, one’s mind should be stable and unmoving, like a wall.” This may sound like the direct, easy path to enlightenment, but it is in fact the most difficult. If we think of Bodhidharma’s own enlightenment as an entry through principle, then we would have to say that it only came after a lifetime of practice, culminating in his nine years of meditation facing a wall in a cave on Mount Song. Actually, the method used to accomplish entry through principle is precisely this phrase, “One’s mind should be stable and unmoving, like a wall.” This does not mean that the mind is blank; on the contrary; it is alert and clear, illuminating everything with awareness and responding with compassion. This is ideal, and it is the state of mind referred to in entry through principle.

The second entry to attain realisation is through practice. Bodhidharma discusses four specific methods: accepting karmic retribution, adapting to conditions, no seeking, and union with the Dharma. Each practice is progressively more advanced, and therefore, they should be followed in order.

Accepting karmic retribution involves recognising the effects of karma and cause and consequence. Karma is a Sanskrit term that translates literally as “action.” When we carry out an action, a karmic force remains that leads to a consequence in the future, whether in the present existence or in a future one. The karmic effect of a particular action is not permanently fixed, because the continual performance of new actions modifies the karmic force accordingly, but in all cases, there is a cause-and-consequence relationship, and the consequence will be similar in nature to the cause. Therefore, when we face adversity, we should understand that we are receiving the karmic retribution from countless previous actions in countless previous lives. When we pay back some of our debt, we should feel happy that we have the capacity to do so. If we have this perspective, then when misfortunes arise, we will be tranquil and without resentment. We will not suffer from disturbing emotions or be discouraged or depressed. This is an important practice.

Karma, or cause and consequence, has to be understood and applied in conjunction with the Buddhist concept of causes and conditions. Causes and conditions describe the fact that things happen because of many conditions coming together. We cannot and should not run away from our responsibilities and the retribution caused by our karma. But we should try to improve our conditions and karma. If things can be improved, we must try to make them better. If they can’t be changed, then we should accept them with equanimity as karmic retribution.

It might be easy to confuse the principle of causes and conditions with that of cause and consequence. In fact, the two principles are intimately connected with each other, and it is difficult to talk about one without mentioning the other. From the standpoint of cause and consequence, we can say that the earlier event is the cause and the later event is the consequence. One event leads to the next. A cause, however, cannot lead to a consequence by itself. Something else must occur, must come together with the cause, to lead to a consequence. This coming together of events and factors is referred to as causes and conditions. A man and woman together do not automatically lead to children. Other factors must come together in order for the cause (parents) to lead to the consequence (children). Parents, children, and the other factors involved are all considered causes and conditions.

Furthermore, the condition (one dharma) that intersects with a cause (another dharma) must have itself been caused by something else, and so on and so on, infinitely in all directions throughout space and time. All phenomena arise because of causes and conditions. Any phenomenon that arises is itself a consequence of a previous cause and arose because of the coming together of causes and conditions. This leads to the concept of conditioned arising, also known as dependent origination, which means that all phenomena, or dharmas, no matter when or where they occur, are interconnected.

Since all dharmas are the consequences of causes and conditions, their arising is conditional. This includes not only arising and appearing but also perishing and disappearing. A person being born is a phenomenon and a person dying is a phenomenon; a bubble forming is a phenomenon, and a bubble bursting is a phenomenon; a thought appearing is a phenomenon, and a thought disappearing is a phenomenon. All dharmas arise and perish because of causes and conditions.

Let me make a distinction between dharma and Dharma. Dharma with a lowercase “d” refers to any phenomenon. Dharma with an uppercase “D” refers to Buddhadharma, or the teachings of the Buddha, the methods of practice and the principles and concepts that underlie the practice. But remember, even the teachings of the Buddha and the methods of practice are themselves phenomena or dharmas.

The second of the four practices recommended by Bodhidharma is “adapting to conditions.” It also requires an understanding of causes and conditions. Adapting to conditions means that we should do our best within the constraints of our environment. If our circumstances are fortunate for something good to happen to us, we should not get overly excited. Good fortune, like bad, is the result of karmic retribution. Why should we feel excited when we are only enjoying the fruits of our own labour? It is like withdrawing money from our own bank accounts. By the same token, we should not be overly proud, because good fortune, like bad, is the result of many causes and conditions coming together. How can we rake credit for our accomplishments, when they depend so much on the goodwill of others, on the sacrifices of our parents, on the circumstances of history? The practise of adapting to conditions means that you accept your karma, or cause and consequence, without being overly joyful or self-satisfied or disappointed.

Accepting karmic retribution and adapting to conditions are very helpful practices in daily life. They allow us to improve our conditions and karma and maintain a positive attitude toward life. They help us enjoy equanimity in the face of changing circumstances, improve our behaviour, and keep our relationships harmonious. These teachings of Bodhidharma are not hard to understand, and any ordinary person can make use of them. If we can apply them in daily circumstances, we will fulfil our responsibilities and we will make the best of our opportunities. In this way, life will be more meaningful.

The third of Bodhidharma’s four practices is the practice of “no seeking.” There is a Chinese saying that “people raise children to help them in old age, and people accumulate food in case of famine.” Today, people in the West may not raise children just to support them in old age, but people probably still accumulate food, or wealth, in case of hardship. This attitude is not the attitude of no seeking. In the practice of no seeking, we continually, diligently engage in useful activity, yet we have no thought that this activity is for our personal gain now or in the future. We do not look for personal benefits. This is not easy, and it is a higher level of practice than the second practice. In fact, in order to completely avoid self-centred activity, we must make the difficult step of realising that the self does not exist.

What we commonly think of as the self is an illusion. It is nothing in itself at all but a name we give to our continuous interaction with the environment. We constantly see, hear, smell, taste, touch, and think, and it is this cascade of sensations, perceptions, and judgments, thought afterthought, that we identify as the self.

To say that the self is an illusion, however, is not to say that the self is a hallucination. The self is not a mirage. We say that the self is illusory because it is not a stable entity but, rather, a series of events that are forever changing in response to a constantly changing environment. The self is not a thing that stays the same, and as such, we say that the self is an illusion. For the same reason, all phenomena are considered illusions; that is, all phenomena are selfless. All things change from moment to moment, evolving and transforming into something else. The self, therefore, is a false existence ceaselessly interacting with a false environment.

The practise of no seeking is an advanced practice because it is the practice of no-self. While it is normal for people to begin to learn and practice Buddhism for their own benefit, eventually, through practice, their self-centeredness falls away. They find themselves busy because others need their help, and they provide what is needed. Such a person no longer even thinks about attaining enlightenment.

When you have ceased to be concerned about your own attainment, then you are enlightened. Otherwise, there will always be subtle, wandering thoughts and attachments to the desire to do something for yourself. If you want to free yourself from all worldly vexations and suffering and if you desire liberation, you are still attached to yourself. It is only when you have no concern about your own enlightenment that you can truly be enlightened. The practise of no seeking is the practice of this enlightened state.

The fourth of Bodhidharma’s practices, “union with the Dharma,” is a basic tenet of Buddhism that all phenomena are impermanent and do not have an intrinsic self. In the practice of union with the Dharma, we try to personally experience this impermanence and selflessness through direct contemplation of emptiness. This is the highest practise of Chan, and it leads to the highest attainment. It is the practice that allows us to reach the point of “entry through principle” that we talked about earlier.

But where does a practitioner begin? Different Buddhist sects employ many methods of practice that can be used by beginners, such as reading the scriptures, making vows, doing prostrations, mindfulness of the Buddha, and counting the breath. These methods all help us to go from a scattered mind, which is confused, emotional, and unstable, to a mental state that is tranquil and in harmony with our environment. The very first thing we should do is relax the body and mind. If we can relax, we will be healthier and more stable and will relate to others more harmoniously.

There is a Buddhist householder who comes to the Chan Centre who is very nervous. His nervousness makes other people feel nervous. When he talks to you, his body is tense, as if he is about to attack you or defend himself. People react to this kind of behaviour; it disturbs them. When I told him to relax his body, he responded in a tense, forced voice, “I am already relaxed!” He is constantly fearful and insecure, and because of the problems these feelings cause, he came to the Chan Centre seeking help. He wanted to learn meditation, so I taught him to gradually relax his body and then his mind. If we cannot relax, there is no way we can meditate; and if we cannot meditate, the practise of no seeking is completely impossible. This man was impatient and thought that if he got enlightened all his problems would disappear. He said to me, “Master, I do not want anything; I just want the method to get enlightened quickly. Give me the method as soon as possible.” I answered, “Such a method has not been invented. If I could invent a guaranteed, speedy method of enlightenment, I could probably sell it for quite a lot of money.”

Now I have invented the following method, and I offer it free of charge to whoever wishes to learn. The method is to relax your body and mind. It is easy and simple. Do not ask whether it can lead you to enlightenment. First, you should be able to relax, and later we can talk about enlightenment. Close your eyes, lean back in your chair, and relax your muscles. Completely relax your eyes. It is very important that your eyelids be relaxed and do not move. There should not be any tension around your eyeballs. Do not apply any force or tension anywhere. Relax your facial muscles, shoulders, and arms. Relax your abdomen and put your hands in your lap. If you feel the weight of your body, it should be in your seat. Do not think of anything. If thoughts come, recognise them and pay attention to the inhaling and exhaling of your breath through your nostrils. Ignore what other people are doing. Concentrate on your practice, forget about your body, and relax. Do not entertain doubts about whether what you are doing is useful.

The principle of this method is to relax–to be natural and clear. Keep each session short, but practice frequently; each session should be no longer than three to ten minutes. If you do it longer, you will probably feel restless or fall asleep. You can use this method a few times a day; it will refresh your body and mind and eliminate some of the confusion in your daily life. Gradually you will gain the stability of body and mind that makes it possible to, eventually, enter the gate of Chan.

Chan is often referred to as the “gateless gate.” The “gate” is both a method of practice and a path to liberation; this gate is “gateless,” however, in that Chan does not rely on any specific method to help a practitioner achieve liberation. The methodless method is the highest method. So long as the practitioner can drop the self-centred mind, the gateway into Chan will open naturally.

The primary obstacle to attaining wisdom is attachment to the self. When you face people, things, and situations, the notion of “I” arises immediately within you. When you attach to this “I,” you categorise and judge everything else accordingly: “This is mine; that is not. This is good for me; that is not. I like this; I hate that.” Attachment to the idea of self makes true clarity impossible.

But how might we define non-attachment? According to Chan, non-attachment means that when you face circumstances and deal with other people, there is no “I” in relation to whatever may appear in front of you. Things are as they are, vivid and clear. You can respond appropriately and give whatever is needed. Clear awareness of things as they are, in this state of selflessness, is what Chan calls wisdom. Giving whatever others may need with no thought of the self is what Chan calls compassion. Wisdom and compassion describe the awareness and function of the enlightened mind. In Chan, these two cannot be separated, and both depend on putting down the attachment to self.

As the Chan school evolved, two forms of practice developed, which correspond roughly to Bodhidharma’s two entries, the one through principle and the other through practice. The method of silent illumination is the specialty of the Caodong tradition, while the Linji tradition advocates the method of gongan and huatou. Both approaches can lead to enlightenment, the realisation of no-self.

The term Silent Illumination, or Mozhao, is associated with the Song dynasty master Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091-1157), although the practice itself can be traced back at least as far as Bodhidharma and his concept of entry through principle. Five generations later, the great master Yongjia (665-713) wrote about “clarity and quiescence” in his Song of Enlightenment. Quiescence refers to the practice of silencing the mind, and clarity refers to contemplation, illuminating the mind with the light of awareness.

Hongzhi himself described the “silent sitting” as thus: “your body sits silently; your mind is quiescent, unmoving. This is a genuine effort in practice. Body and mind are at complete rest. The mouth is so still that moss grows around it. Grass sprouts from the tongue. Do this without ceasing, cleansing the mind until it gains the clarity of an autumn pool, bright as the moon illuminating the evening sky.”

In another place, Hongzhi said, “In the silent sitting, whatever realm may appear, the mind is very clear to all the details, yet everything is where it originally is, in its own place. The mind stays on one thought for ten thousand years, yet does not dwell on any form, inside or outside.”

To understand Silent Illumination C’han, it is important to understand that while there are no thoughts, the mind is still very clear, very aware. Both the silence and the illumination must be there. According to Hongzhi, when there is nothing going on in one’s mind, one is aware that nothing is happening. If one is not aware, this is just Chan sickness, not the state of Chan. So in this state, the mind is transparent. In a sense, it is not completely accurate to say that there is nothing present, because the transparent mind is there. But it is accurate in the sense that nothing can become an attachment or obstruction. In this state, the mind is without form or feature. Power is present, but its function is to fill the mind with illumination, like the sun shining everywhere. Hence, silent illumination is the practice in which there is nothing moving, but the mind is bright and illuminating.

A gongan is a story of an incident between a master and one or more disciples that involves an understanding or experience of the enlightened mind. The incident usually, but not always, involves dialogue. When the incident is remembered and recorded, it becomes a “public case,” which is the literal meaning of the term. Often what makes the incident worth recording is that, as the result of the interchange, a disciple had an awakening, an experience of enlightenment.

Master Zhaozhou was asked by a monk, “Does a dog have Buddha-nature?” The master replied, “Wu,” meaning nothing. This is a basic gongan, possibly the most famous on record. Here is another gongan, also involving Zhaozhou. Zhaozhou had a disciple who met an old woman and asked her, “how do I get to Mt. Tai?” She said, “Just keep going!” As the monk started off, he heard the old woman remark, “He really went!” Afterwards, the disciple mentioned this to Zhaozhou, who said, “I think I will go over there and see for myself” When he met the old woman, Zhaozhou asked the same question and she gave the same response: “Just keep going!” As Zhaozhou started off he heard the old lady said as she had last time, “He really went!” When Zhaozhou returned, he said to the assembly, “I have seen through that old woman!” What did Zhaozhou find out about that old woman? What is the meaning of this lengthy and obscure gongan?

Around the time of the Song dynasty (960-1276), Chan Masters began using recorded gongans as a subject of meditation for their disciples. The practitioner was required to investigate the meaning of the historical gongan. To penetrate the meaning of the gongan, the student has to abandon knowledge, experience, and reasoning, since the answer is not accessible by these methods. The student must find the answer by can (pronounced:tsan) gongan, or “investigating the gongan.” This requires sweeping from consciousness everything but the gongan, eventually generating the “doubt sensation,” which is a strong sensation of wonder and an intense desire to know the meaning of the gongan.

Closely related, but not identical to, the gongan is the huatou. A huatou–literally, “head of a spoken word”–is a question that a practitioner asks himself or herself. “What is Wu?” and “Who am I?” are commonly used huatous. In the huatou practice, one devotes one full attention to repeating the question incessantly. The gong an and the huatou methods are similar in that the practitioner tries to arouse the great doubt sensation in order to eventually shatter it and awaken to enlightenment.

Chan Master Dahui Zonggao (1089-1163), one of the greatest advocates of huatou practice, maintained that sitting meditation is necessary to settle the wandering mind before a student can effectively use a gong an or huatou. A scattered mind lacks the focus or energy necessary to generate the great doubt, so in training my students, I first give them a method to unify the scattered mind. Once the student’s mind is stable and concentrated, the application of gongan or huatou may cause the great doubt to rise. This doubt is not the ordinary doubt of questioning the truth of an assertion. It is the fundamental uncertainty, the existential dilemma, that underlies all of our experiences–the question of who we are and the meaning of life and death. Because the question inherent in the gongan or huatou cannot be resolved by logic, the practitioner must continually return to the question, nurturing the “doubt mass” until it is like a “hot ball of iron stuck in his throat.” If the practitioner can persist and keep the energy from dissipating, the doubt mass will eventually disappear in an explosion that can wipe away all doubt from the mind, leaving nothing but the mind’s original nature, or enlightenment.

It is also possible, and perhaps more likely, that the explosion will lack sufficient energy to completely cleanse the mind of attachment. Even as great a master as Dahui did not penetrate sufficiently in his first explosive experience. His teacher Yuanwu (1063-1135) told him, “You have died, but you have come back to life.” His enlightenment was confirmed on his second experience.

Therefore, it is very important to have a reliable Shifu, or teacher, guiding one through all stages of practice. At the outset, attempting to generate the great doubt before the mind is sufficiently stable would, at best, be useless and, at worst, give rise to a lot of anxiety. And finally, any experience one has as a result of the practice must be confirmed by an adept master. Only a genuine master will know the difference between a true and a false enlightenment.

The practice of gongan and huatou is an aggressive, explosive approach toward enlightenment; the practice of silent illumination is a more peaceful way. Both, however, require the same foundation: a stable and unified mind. And both have the same purpose: the realisation of the nature of mind, which is the nature of emptiness, Buddha-nature, wisdom and enlightenment.

俗家人分別善人惡人而起憎愛，而出家人對善人是如此，對惡人也是如此，一律平等慈心，於好不起貪著心，於惡不起憎惡心。那些刺激我們的，才是我們真正的指導者，入寺沒刺激，便沒修沒行。不可起憎惡心，來分別那是惡人是壞人，是我們自己不夠那個道行來接納對方，不夠那個涵養來與人善處，錯是錯在自己的耳根眼根的分別業識，這便是我們與生俱來的習氣，我們就是被這些習氣障礙住。

-- 廣欽老和尚

佛教介入公益活动的思想渊源

文｜智华

佛教传入中国以后，不断介入各种公益活动，这与其受到传统儒家入世济世与道教劝善去恶等思想的冲击交融不无关系，但佛教教义本身的影响应该是十分重要的，尤其是佛教的福田观念、慈悲观念、因果业报说、报恩思想等对其从事公益事业均有较深切的影响。

一、佛教的福田观念

佛教介入公益活动，福田观念是重要的思想渊源。福田原指对佛行了布施，就以此布施功德，自己得利益成就。佛教以为，布施有如种子，田地比如佛陀，布施给佛陀，能产生幸福的田地，因此佛陀名之“福田”。“田”含有生长和收获的意思，“福田”即可生福德之田。凡敬待福田，即可收获功德、福报。

福田思想的重要经典依据是西晋沙门法立、法炬合译的《佛说诸德福田经》，经中说佛陀为天帝解说了“五净德福田”和“七法广施福田”。所谓“五净德福田”是指：一者发心离俗，怀佩道故；二者毁其形好，应法服故；三者永割亲爱，无适莫故；四者委弃驱命，尊众善故；五者志求大乘，欲度人故。此 五福田“供之得福，进可成佛”。所谓“七法广施 福田”则指：一者兴立佛图僧房堂阁；二者园果浴池树木清凉；三者常施医药疗救众病；四者作牢坚船，济渡人民；五者安设桥梁，过渡羸弱；六者近道作井，渴乏得饮；七者造做圊厕，施便利处。此七福田“行者得福，即生梵天”。两者都要求大众多多行善，以便得到福报。经文后面还举了不少例子，如波罗奈国的听聪，于大道旁作小精舍，“床卧浆粮，供给众僧。行路顿乏，亦得止息”；拘夷那竭国的波拘卢，奉药果给众僧；罗阅祗国的阿难，到寺院中造作新井，提供香油浴具，洗浴众僧；天帝前生以珠宝施舍僧人；佛陀亦自陈前生在大道旁建厕所的事件等。可见，福田思想的开展，不但对佛、法、僧三宝的布施称为福田，对贫苦、羸弱、过客等世俗众生的布施，亦有莫大的功德，最终都能获好的果报。

就福田而言，佛教关注功德善事的积极效果，如 《杂阿含经》卷36记载佛陀为天子说偈云：“种植园果故，林树荫清凉；桥船以济渡，造作福德舍； 穿井供渴乏，客舍给行旅；如此之功德，日夜常增长；如法戒具足，缘斯得生天。”但佛教排斥个人功利主义，那些为求福田才布施的行为，不能算是真正的福田。《优婆塞戒经》卷4中强调：“施时不求内外果报，不观福田及非福田，施一切财，心不吝惜，不择时节，是故名为施波罗密。”道宣律师在删定《四分律》时，曾专门就寺院和僧人对外施药施食等方面的行事做了规定：“若彼病者，慈心施舍，随病所宜。若非随病食施，得罪也。婴儿，狱囚，怀妊等，慈心施之，勿望后报。”可见，慈心随宜与不计回报的布施才是真正的布施，才是福田的本义。

二、佛教的慈悲观念

慈悲是佛教教义的又一重要思想。在梵文 中，“慈”有友爱之情，“悲”有哀怜同情之意。佛教教导世人，欲成佛道，必须胸怀慈悲，以慈爱之心给予人们幸福，以怜悯之心拔除人的痛苦。佛教的这种慈悲道德观对中国社会影响深远，民间长期尊奉的观世音信仰，即较好体现了大众对救苦救难、大慈大悲思想的认同。

《大智度论》卷26中说：“大慈与一切众生乐，大悲拔一切众生苦；大慈以喜乐因缘与众生，大悲以离苦因缘与众生。”简而言之，就是“慈能与乐，悲能拔苦”。《大般涅盘经》卷15中也说：“为诸众生除无利益是名大慈，欲与众生无量利乐是名大悲。”慈悲观念为佛教从事社会公益活动奠定了坚实的理论基础。

佛陀之道在于能行，慈悲践行很重要的一端即在布施。《大乘义章》卷14中说：“言布施者，以己财事分布于他，名之为布；辍己惠人，目之为施。” 布施又可分为财施，法施，无畏施。从财施来看，诸佛、菩萨的大慈大悲，在利他上没有什么不可以舍的，小如财物，大至捐身舍命，乃至舍身饲虎。从法施来看，诸佛，菩萨已证诸法实相，已得无上智慧，以方便救渡众生，使解脱众生成为可能。无畏施就是指救人急难，令众生消除害怕、恐惧。佛教世界中，诸佛、菩萨之所以能够普度众生，亦正源于慈悲心所产生的无边力量。

布施而外，佛教以为爱语和利行也是度众生的方式，也是慈悲行。爱语是以善言劝谕，并以平等心亲近众生，随机施教。利行则是笃行种种善行，利益众生。这种普及一切众生的慈悲观，后来进一步演变为不杀生、放生和素食的思想。隋唐时期，佛教寺院和僧人修置放生池，大力提倡护生放生。唐肃宗乾元二年曾经颁布圣旨，在全国的81处地方设立放生池，蓄养鱼虾之类，禁止人们捕捉，当时著名的书法家颜真卿还为此专门书写碑文。据宋代王谠《唐语林》卷4记载，唐宪宗时宰相元稹在江东，也曾经“修龟山寺鱼池，以为放生之所”。此外，结合《唐会要》等典章制度，我们还可以发现，隋唐以来凡遇三元节(正月十五上元节、七月十五中元节、十月十五下元节)、中和节(二月一日)等节日，朝廷都会颁布禁屠钓或断屠等约束。这种禁约，除受到道教信仰的影响外，显然也与佛教护生观念影响不无关系。

三、佛教因果业报说

因果业报说，又称为“因缘业报说”、“因果报应说”、“果报论”等，是佛教伦理的理论基础。因果业报的思想，源于印度婆罗门教，而后起的佛教沿袭其说，并将其融入整个佛教思想，随后传入中国。佛教认为，宇宙的万事万物都受因果法则支配，是由“业”即人们自身行为和支配行为的意志决定的。“善有善报，恶有恶报”的因果观深入民心，令人知所取舍，而消极地不作恶，积极地行善。

《善恶因果经》中说：“杀生之罪能令众生堕于地狱、畜生、饿鬼，若生人中得二种果报，一者短命，二者多病。”可见，“善自获福、恶自遭殃” 的道理要求人们从自身做起，并劝化一切众生，自利利他，共致福业。

善恶的行为生起一种业力，它将带来善恶、苦乐的因果报应，形成了善业善果、恶业恶果的业报转回。东晋名僧慧远在其《三报论》中进一步指 出：“业有三报：一日现报，二日生报，三日后报。现报者，善恶始于此身即此身受。生报者，来生便受。后报者，或经二生、三生、百生、千生，然后乃受。”慧远“三报”说把因果报应的时空及时作了扩延，传统“积善余庆、积恶余殃”的思想，纳入了“三世二重因果”的业报轮回流程。民间“善有善报，恶有恶报”的因果观不再困惑于现实中报应的迟钝或不仁(诸如“好人没好报”、“恶人没报应”等)，而继续推演为“善有善报，恶有恶报。不是不报，时辰未到”的果报观——现世的处境总有其前世的“因”，而现世的业力又早已种下了来世的“果”。过去因与现在果构成第一重因果，现在因与未来果构成第二重因果。

Who will comprehend this earth (self), and this realm of Yama, and this world together with the devas? Who will investigate the well taught Path of Virtue, even as an expert (garland maker) will pick flowers?

-- The Buddha

The Seven Point Cause-and-Effect Instruction

by Ribur Rinpoche

Bodhicitta, the aspiration to attain enlightenment in order to benefit all sentient beings, is something that is truly inconceivable, truly splendid and marvellous. One of the gurus of Lama Atisha told him that an attainment such as clairvoyance, or a vision of a deity, or concentration as stable as a mountain is nothing compared to bodhicitta. For us, these attainments seem amazing. If we ourselves, or if someone we heard of, had a vision of a deity, achieved clairvoyance, or through practising meditation attained concentration as stable as a mountain, we would think this to be unbelievably wonderful. However, Atisha's guru said to him: "These are nothing compared to bodhicitta. Therefore, practise bodhicitta."

Even if you practised Mahamudra or Dzogchen or the two stages of highest yoga tantra [generation stage and completion stage] and even if you achieved the vision of many deities, these are not beneficial if you do not have bodhicitta.

As the great Bodhisattva Shantideva said, "If you churn the 84,000 teachings of the Buddha, their essence is bodhicitta." By churning milk we get butter, which is the very essence of milk. In the same way, if we examine and churn all the 84,000 teachings of the Buddha, their very essence is the practice of bodhicitta. Therefore, it is extremely important for us to strive to achieve the uncontrived, effortless experience of bodhicitta. At the very least, we should try our best to generate the contrived experience of bodhicitta, the bodhicitta that arises through effort.

There are two main lineages of instructions on the basis of which you can practise and generate bodhicitta. The first is the seven-point cause-and-effect instruction,  and the second is the instruction on exchanging oneself with others.

The first, the seven-point cause-and-effect instruction by which you generate bodhicitta on the basis of developing affectionate love towards all sentient beings, is a practice which was used by such great Indian pandits as Chandrakirti, Chandragomin, Shantarakshita and so forth. The second, the instruction on exchanging oneself with others, comes mainly from Shantideva. Whether you choose to train your mind in the seven-point instruction or in exchanging oneself with others, the result is that you will generate bodhicitta in your mind.

The great saint Atisha showed extraordinary interest in bodhicitta. In order to obtain the complete instructions on the practice of bodhicitta, he embarked on a long journey to the Indonesian island of Sumatra to study with the great master Serlingpa, not caring about the many hardships he endured on the way. Today we can travel to Indonesia by a very fast ship or by aeroplane, but at that time it took Atisha thirteen months to reach Indonesia. Once he arrived, he received the complete experiential instructions on both the seven-point technique and exchanging oneself with others from the master Serlingpa. He then practised for twelve years at his master's feet, until he fully developed bodhicitta. Thus Lama Atisha came to possess both instructions — lineages: the seven-point technique and exchanging oneself with others. Although he held both lineages, Atisha would teach only the seven-point technique in public, to large assemblies of disciples, and would teach the instructions on exchanging oneself with others secretly to a select group of qualified disciples. When Atisha went to Tibet, he gave the instructions on exchanging oneself with others only to his principal disciple, Dromtonpa.

Later, the great Lama Tsong Khapa, the Protector of all beings, incorporated the two sets of instructions into a single practice consisting of eleven points. When you are receiving teachings on bodhicitta, you receive the two sets of instructions separately, but when you are actually meditating on bodhicitta — training your mind then you combine both instructions and meditate on the eleven points. Combining the two instructions into a single practice for the purpose of training the mind in meditation is said to be a particular greatness of the Gelugpa tradition.

In a prayer composed by Lama Pabongka Dorje Chang requesting to meet the doctrine of Lama Tsong Khapa, he wrote: "By merging the practices of the seven-point technique and exchanging oneself with others of the precious mind, this greatness which is not shared by others, may I thus be able to meet the doctrine of Lama Tsong Khapa." "Not shared by others" means that this merging of the two practices devised by Je Rinpoche is a unique approach which is not found in other traditions.

I first received these teachings from the holy mouth of the incredibly kind Lama Pabongka Dorje Chang, when he taught the eight great lam-rim texts over a period of four months at Sera Monastery in Tibet. At that time I was very young. When he reached the point of explaining exchanging oneself with others, he gave teachings on The Seven-Point Thought Transformation. Later I received these teachings twice from the late Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche.

THE SEVEN-POINT CAUSE AND EFFECT INSTRUCTION

As for the seven points of the cause-and-effect instruction, one begins by meditating on equanimity and then proceeds through the following steps:

1.  Recognising all sentient beings as one's mother

2.  Recognising the kindness of mother sentient beings

3.  Repaying their kindness

4.  Affectionate love

5.  Great compassion

6.  The extraordinary intention

7.  Bodhicitta

The first six points, recognising all sentient beings as one's mother and so forth, are the causes which give birth to the result, bodhicitta.

The way in which these realisations come about, step by step, is that bodhicitta, the thought of attaining enlightenment in order to benefit all sentient beings, arises from and must be preceded by a sense of responsibility. In Tibetan the term is "lhagsam", which is sometimes called "extraordinary intention", or "exceptional attitude", or "universal responsibility" — it is a feeling of responsibility to benefit all sentient beings. For this intention to come about you must have a powerful wish for all sentient beings to be free of suffering — that is great compassion. For that to arise you must have developed affectionate love towards all sentient beings. At the moment we have affectionate love for our dear ones, but we don't have affectionate love for those who are not dear to us. In order to generate this affectionate love for everyone, you must develop a deep sense of closeness towards sentient beings, and the way to do that is by recognising all sentient beings as your mother, recognising their kindness and generating the wish to repay their kindness. This instruction is called the cause-and-effect technique because the later points arise after having generated the preceding points.

You should not approach this practice with a short-sighted mind, thinking, "Oh, this practice is too advanced for me. It will require so much time, so much energy. I will not be able to develop such a precious mind." This is not the right attitude. You should not have such fears because these instructions are very profound and powerful. If you continuously train your mind, step by step, with persistence, there is no doubt that you will succeed. Generally speaking, all the instructions from the old Kadampa tradition are very powerful and effective. On top of that, there are the instructions combined by the great Lama Tsong Khapa, whose experience was based on his special relationship with Manjushri, with whom he had direct communication. These instructions are extremely powerful and effective, so you should not think that they are too advanced for you and that you will not be able to develop bodhicitta.

EQUANIMITY

Before beginning to train your mind in the first step, recognising all sentient beings as your mother, you should develop the thought of equanimity. It is similar to painting a picture: if you want to paint a picture on a surface, you must first make sure that the surface is smooth and even and has no rough or uneven spots on it.  In the same way, before you can train your mind in the meditation on recognising all sentient beings as your mother, you must make your mind even with equanimity towards everyone. In other words, you must learn to stop discriminating among sentient beings, feeling close to some and distant from others, and the way to do this is by developing equanimity.

Now I will explain the way to meditate in order to develop equanimity. Those of you who are familiar with these instructions, please meditate as I am explaining. Those who are new, please pay special attention and try to retain the instructions in your mind. All of you please try to have the intention to develop bodhicitta, thinking that you really must generate this realisation in your mind. As I mentioned before, these instructions of the Kadampa lamas are so powerful and effective, especially the instructions on merging the seven-point cause-and-effect technique and exchanging oneself with others as taught by Lama Tsong Khapa. So please be attentive and generate this strong intention: "I am definitely going to practise and  develop bodhicitta in my mind."

Visualise in front of you three people: first, someone who upsets you — just by seeing or thinking about him or her, your mind becomes unhappy. Next to him or her, visualise someone you love and are close to — just by seeing this person, your mind becomes happy. And next to that person, visualise a stranger, someone who is neither beneficial nor non-beneficial. When you think about these three people, you feel aversion towards the person you dislike, attachment towards the person who is close to you, and indifference towards the stranger.

Now, thinking about the person you dislike, ask yourself, "Why do I dislike this person? What is the reason I get so upset? What has he done to me?" You will realise that it is because he has harmed you a little bit in this life. At this point, you should think about the uncertainty of friends and enemies as explained in the lam-rim, in the section for the person of the intermediate scope. This is one of the disadvantages of cyclic existence: you cannot be sure of friends and enemies; sometimes a friend becomes an enemy and sometimes an enemy becomes a friend. Think in this way: "Although this person has given me a small amount of harm in this life for a very short time, in many previous lifetimes since beginningless time, this person has shown me great affection and has been very close to me for a very long time. The harm he has given me in this life is so small compared to the closeness and affection we have had since beginningless time, yet I treat him like my ultimate enemy, the ultimate object to be avoided. This is completely wrong!" You need to think in this way again and again in order to subdue your feelings of aversion towards this person.

Next to him is the person you feel close to, who makes you feel so happy as soon as you see him or her. You regard this person as your ultimate friend, the person who is closer to you than anyone else. You have so much attachment for this person you may feel that you don't want to be separated from him or her even for a moment. If you examine the reasons why this is so, it is because in this life he has benefited you in some way such as with resources and so forth. On the basis of some very small benefits and for very limited reasons, your mind becomes so happy and excited. However, you should think, "Although in this life he has benefited me a little, he has not always been my friend. In many previous lifetimes since beginningless time, he has been my enemy. He harmed me so much that just by seeing him I felt very strong aversion. It is not reasonable for me to have so much attachment and desire for this person just because he has benefited me, is beneficial to me and will benefit me, because he has also been the opposite." By thinking in this way over and over again, you can subdue your feeling of attachment.

Now turn your attention to the stranger. The attitude you have towards this person is: "I don't know this person and I don't care about him. He hasn't connected with me in the past, he is not connecting with me now and he will not connect with me in the future, so who cares." This attitude is also completely wrong, so you should think, "In this life, this person is neither an enemy nor a friend, but in previous lives, he was my enemy many times, and also many times he was my dearest friend, someone I was very close to. Therefore, it is completely unreasonable to be indifferent towards this person." Just as you equalised your feelings towards the friend and the enemy, you should equalise your feelings towards the stranger by thinking in this way again and again.

Therefore when you meditate, you first think that there is absolutely no reason to be so upset and to feel so much aversion towards the enemy who has been your dearest friend so many times. You need to think about this again and again in order to subdue your aversion and equalise your mind towards this person. Likewise, think that there is no reason to be so attached to the person you are close to, your friend because he has been your enemy so many times. Think about this, again and again, to subdue your attachment and equalise your mind towards this person.

"When we perceive these three different people, we perceive them in terms of these three categories: friends, enemies and strangers. However, none of them exists in this way forever no one is a friend, enemy or stranger for all time. Therefore, they are all the same. There is absolutely no reason to feel an attachment towards one person, to feel aversion towards another, and to feel detached and indifferent towards yet another.

If we examine what they actually are, from their side,  they are sentient beings. And they are all exactly the same in that they all wish to be happy and free from suffering. Thus there is not the slightest reason to discriminate between them with attachment, aversion and indifference. They are all exactly the same. You must come to this conclusion and meditate on it again and again. By meditating on this over and over again, you will reach the point where you actually develop equanimity towards all sentient beings. You will feel that they are all the same to you; your feelings towards them will be equal. This is the result that should come about.

Although you might recite every day the prayer of the Four Immeasurable Thoughts-"May all sentient beings have happiness and its causes; May all sentient beings be free from suffering and its causes" and so forth — until you have actually developed equanimity, in  reality, it will be as though you are saying, "May all sentient beings have happiness and its causes and be free from suffering and its causes-but only chose I like and not  those I dislike." No matter how frequently and fervently you recite the Four Immeasurable Thoughts until you have developed equanimity, they are only words. They don't become the actual Four Immeasurable Thoughts. Therefore, it is extremely important to develop equanimity, and even if you spent months and years meditating solely on equanimity in order to develop this realisation, it would be an extremely worthwhile way of practising meditation. If you can pacify your feelings of attachment and· aversion towards friends and enemies, it will be very beneficial for your peace of mind.

RECOGNISING ALL SENTIENT BEINGS AS ONE'S MOTHER

The next point, recognising all sentient beings as one's mother, is actually the first step in developing bodhicitta. Lama Pabongka Dorje Chang said that this point is not easy and takes quite a long time to develop. However, it is crucial and indispensable, because only on the basis of this recognition can you develop the following steps. We cannot progress without it, so it is very important to give it a lot of attention.

In general, when you meditate you use perfect reasoning as well as quotations. Here, with this point of recognising all beings as your mother, it is very important to use reasoning. Although you can also develop the same understanding on the basis of quotations, there is a difference in the way the mind is activated on the basis of quotations and on the basis of reasoning — it is more powerful on the basis of reasoning. The specific reasoning to be relied upon here is the beginningless continuity of the mind.

First, you have to establish that the continuity of the mind is beginningless. Start by thinking that your mind of today is the result of the mind of yesterday. And yesterdays mind came from the mind of the day before yesterday. In that way, you go back, day by day. Each day's mind is the result of the mind of the preceding day. Also, the mind of each moment is the result of the preceding moment. By going back in this way, you discover that the mind is a continuity. Each moment is the result of the preceding moment.

Continue to go back, all the way to the moment of conception, and think about how the mind of the newborn baby is also a continuity which needs a preceding moment of mind in order to be generated. The mind of the newborn baby is the continuation of the mind of the foetus which was in the womb of the mother. And if you continue to go back in this way, you will not be able to find a beginning. You cannot find a moment which you can point to as the beginning of the mind and say, "The mind began there." This is because any moment of mind would need a preceding moment in order to be generated. In this way, you can establish chat the continuum of the mind is beginningless. There is no single moment of mind which you can point to as being the first.

Following these reasons, you conclude that the number of times you have taken rebirth is countless. Not only that, but in all those rebirths, just as in this life, you needed a mother. For one hundred rebirths, you would need one hundred mothers; for one thousand rebirths, you would need one thousand mothers, and so forth. Since you have had countless rebirths, you have had countless mothers.

So if you think very carefully about these points, you will realise chat not only have you had countless rebirths, you have also had countless mothers. Furthermore, although sentient beings are also countless, the number of sentient beings that exists is fewer than the number of mothers you have had. You have taken rebirth countless times in all of the different types of bodies, and the number of sentient beings you need to have been your mother is greater than the number of sentient beings in existence. Therefore, since the number of times you have taken rebirth and the number of mothers you have had is greater than the number of sentient beings, it means chat every single sentient being has been your mother not just once, but countless times.

Start with your own mother, thinking that your mother of this life was your mother countless times in previous rebirths. When you have gained some experience of this idea such that your mind is transformed towards your mother, then think about it in relation to your father-that your father has been your mother countless times. Following that, think about how your friends have been your mother countless times. Then think about your enemies — even your enemies have been your mother so many times. Finally, widen your scope to include all sentient beings-meditate on how all sentient beings have been your mother.

You have to meditate on this subject again and again over a long period of time. While you are training your mind in this subject, you should rely on the different lam-rim scriptures which explain various points and ways of meditating and can give you a lot of inspiration. You should request your spiritual teacher to give explanations to help clarify your mind, and you should also discuss the subject with your Dharma friends. By thinking in this way, again and again, you will reach the point where you realise that all sentient beings have been your mother, even down to a tiny insect-like ant. Even when you see a tiny insect you will feel certain that many times this being has been your kind mother, who took the greatest care of you and in whom you placed your trust. It is said that the great Atisha — who completely realised this point — would be immediately filled with a deep sense of respect whenever he met any sentient being. He would fold his hands and say, "Precious sentient  being, so kind."

RECOGNISING THE KINDNESS OF MOTHER SENTIENT BEINGS

The next step in the meditation is recognising the kindness of mother sentient beings. It is not enough just to recognise that all sentient beings have been your mother, you must also recognise the depth of their kindness. For example, your mother of this life was so kind, carrying you within her for nine long months from the time of conception, always being very careful about what she ate and drank, and doing everything with the sole thought of taking care of you. Even the fact that you are alive and are able to learn and practise the Dharma is completely due to the kindness of your mother, who carried you in her womb and took such good care of you since the time of conception.

She took good care of you while you were in her womb, and also after you were born. When you were born you were completely helpless, like a little bug, unable to do anything. Nevertheless, your mother created you as if you were a priceless jewel — continuously taking the greatest care of you, day and night, with no other thought in her mind than concern for your welfare. She fed you, bathed you, dressed you in soft clothing, took you here and there to make you happy, and even made funny faces or gestures to make you smile. Because of her constant feeling of love and concern for you, her mind was always full of worry that you might get sick or hurt-so much so chat she would have difficulty sleeping at night.

You learned how to walk because of the kindness of your mother — she would help you stand up and take your first step, then the second step, and so forth. You also learned how to pronounce your first words because of the kindness of your mother and also your father. As time went on, you were able to study and learn many other things, but only on the basis of knowing how to walk and speak, which you learned because of the kindness of your mother.

In the preceding step you realised that all sentient beings have been your mother, and with this meditation, you realise that not only has your mother of this present life been incredibly kind to you, but all the countless sentient beings have been just as kind.

REPAYING THEIR KINDNESS

The next step is generating the wish to repay the kindness of all mother sentient beings. Ask yourself: "Am I able to repay their kindness?" Then think: "I should be able to repay their kindness because I'm in such fortunate circumstances: I have met the Dharma, I have met perfect teachers, I have met the path, and I have all the right circumstances to practise. Therefore I must do as much as I possibly can to liberate them from their suffering and to bring them the happiness that they wish for. I must do this in order to repay their kindness."

Of course, repaying the kindness of sentient beings also includes helping them on the conventional level, by doing as much as you can to give food to those who are hungry, drink to those who are thirsty, clothing and other material things. But the most important way of helping is by completely relieving all sentient beings of all their sufferings and giving them all the happiness that they wish for. You should bring this thought to your mind again and again.

AFFECTIONATE LOVE

The next step, affectionate love, is the kind of love that a mother feels when looking at her only child. When a mother looks at her child, he appears to her in a very beautiful way, and she feels great love for him. Here, you generate this same kind of affectionate love towards all sentient beings, perceiving all beings in a beautiful, glowing way.

Actually, if you generated the previous steps of recognising all sentient beings as your mother, recognising their kindness and wishing to repay their kindness, then you won't need extra effort or extra thought in order to develop affectionate love. It will arise spontaneously, due to the force of the preceding realisations.

When you meditate on affectionate love, you also need to reflect on the fact that all sentient beings, although wishing to be happy, are completely devoid of happiness, especially pure, uncontaminated happiness. By meditating in this way, you generate the strong wish that all sentient beings possess happiness and its causes and that they actually abide in happiness. On top of that, you should also generate the wish that you yourself will make that happen. From the depths of your heart, request your lama to grant you blessings to be able to do this.

GREAT COMPASSION

The next step is great compassion. This is one of the special characteristics of the Buddha's teachings, and Lama Tsong Khapa in particular placed a great deal of emphasis on it as a very special cause that gives rise to very special effects. Also, the great Chandrakirti, in the introduction to his Entering the Middle Way, pays homage to great compassion, saying that it is extremely important at the beginning, in the middle and at the end. In the beginning, it is the seed that enables you to enter the Mahayana path. In the middle, while you are engaging in the bodhisattvas' practise of the six perfections, it is the very soul of your practice. In the end, it causes the result, Buddhahood, to ripen and it makes possible all the Buddhas' wonderful deeds for the benefit of sentient beings. Therefore, great compassion is praised as being extremely important at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end.

Ir is said that in the beginning, in order to develop great compassion, it is very beneficial to observe and reflect on the way a butcher slaughters an animal — cutting its throat, ripping out its insides, pulling off its skin. Using that as an example is an easy and powerful way to meditate on great compassion. Here in Singapore, there is a market where we go to buy animals to liberate. It would be extremely beneficial to go there and observe the situation, reflecting both on the animals which are being slaughtered and on those who are slaughtering them.

Once you have started to generate great compassion, then you reflect on the same meditations that you used while training your mind in the small scope section of the lam-rim, by thinking in detail about the sufferings of the three lower realms, the hells and so forth. However, this time you generate compassion by chinking of the sufferings of the specific sentient beings: the sufferings of extreme heat and extreme cold of the hell-beings, the sufferings of extreme hunger and thirst of the pretas, and the sufferings of the animals.

What is the measure or sign of having generated great compassion in your mind? It is that you feel towards all sentient beings the same wish for them to be free of suffering that a mother would feel for her only child. When a mother sees her child going through intense suffering, she feels an unbearable wish for the child to be completely free from this suffering. Feeling this same strong wish towards each and every sentient being is the sign that you have generated great compassion.

THE EXTRAORDINARY INTENTION

The next step is the extraordinary intention. This is when you have the feeling that you yourself, alone, have the responsibility of eliminating all the sufferings of all sentient beings,  and bringing to them all the happiness that they wish for. It is the same sense of responsibility that a child would feel towards his or her mother — feeling responsible to make her happy and free from suffering. So when you feel that way towards all sentient beings and feel that you yourself alone will achieve this goal, then you have generated the extraordinary intention. It is "extraordinary" because it is more exceptional or supreme than the intention of the Hearers and Solitary Realisers, those who practise the individual vehicle.

The extraordinary intention is similar to being in the position of saving someone from falling off a cliff, where you feel responsible to save the person. In the same way, when you feel a deep sense of responsibility for eliminating the suffering of all sentient beings and for giving them all the happiness they wish for, that is an extraordinary intention. It can also be called the "exceptional attitude" or "universal responsibility".

BODHICITTA

The next step is the actual generation of bodhicitta, also called "the generation of the mind". This comes by reflecting, "Do I really have the capacity to accomplish this goal of eliminating all the suffering of sentient beings and bringing them every happiness? Actually, at this point, I can't accomplish that even for one sentient being. And if I check who does have the complete capacity to accomplish this goal, it is only the Buddha. Only the Buddha has the right qualities, because of his power, his knowledge, and his capacity to accomplish spontaneously the benefit of all sentient beings." At this point, you have to reflect on the qualities of Buddha as a worthy object of refuge, as you did in the lam-rim meditation of the individual of the small scope.

Following this, you generate the thought that you will accomplish the benefit of all sentient beings by achieving the qualities of Buddha yourself. This means that you generate the mind of bodhicitta, thinking, "I must achieve the supreme enlightenment  in order to benefit all sentient beings." This wish to become a Buddha is not just to abandon whatever has to be abandoned in order to achieve the complete purpose for yourself. Previously you generated great love and great compassion in order to achieve the benefit of all sentient beings, therefore it is for that purpose that you now generate the wish to become a Buddha.

You must also check: "Am I actually able to do it?" Yes, you are definitely in a position where you can become a Buddha for the benefit of all sentient beings. In fact, there is no better situation than the one you are in now. You have a precious human rebirth, and you have met perfect teachers and the Mahayana path. This means that you are actually in the best situation to achieve Buddhahood for the benefit of all sentient beings.

Furthermore, you have met the perfect teachings of the great Lama Tsong  Khapa. By relying on these incredible teachings, many practitioners of the past, on the basis of having achieved a precious human rebirth, were able to achieve the supreme realisation in that very lifetime. Some individuals, such as the omniscient Gyalwa Ensapa, were able to achieve this realisation in an even shorter period of time — twelve years or even three years. These practitioners had the same basis-the precious human body and the other conditions-that you now have. Therefore you should feel a sense of confidence in having the basis that enables you to become a Buddha.

The contrived form of bodhicitta — the experience of bodhicitta which arises through effort-is known in Tibetan as "the bodhicitta which is like the outer layer of the sugarcane". The uncontrived form of bodhicitta is when the thought of wanting to achieve supreme enlightenment for the benefit of sentient beings arises spontaneously in your mind as soon as you meet any sentient being, no matter who he or she is. Having that uncontrived, effortless experience is the sign that you have achieved the actual realisation of bodhicitta. And once you have generated the realisation of bodhicitta, you earn the name "Child of the Victorious Ones".

This concludes the explanation on how to generate bodhicitta by way of the seven-point cause-and-effect instruction.

We really have to understand the person we want to love. If our love is only a will to possess, it is not love. If we only think of ourselves, if we know only our own needs and ignore the needs of the other person, we cannot love.

-- Thich Nhat Hanh

佛法的命根就是闻思修行

益西彭措堪布

值遇释教精华之法时,未成随诸散乱魔引转,

恒时精进闻思修诸业,此为佛法命根故当知。

前三句联在一起表达一个完整的意思。

大恩上师说:“在遇到佛教精华之法的此时,心没有被散乱魔引转,而恒时精勤地做听闻、思维、修习的法业。这是佛法命根的缘故,一定要认识到。”

“值遇释教精华之法时”:遇到释迦佛所传的具有心要的妙法时,实际上是进入了佛陀教法的光明宝山,到处都是具精华的妙宝,这时最重要的就是一心求取法宝。

“未成随诸散乱魔引转,恒时精进闻思修诸业”:就像入了宝山之后不是无意义地散乱,而是通过各种途径一心精进地取宝,又像有志气的学生上了大学后,不去打牌、跳舞、逛超市,在窗明几净的图书馆里潜心研读。学习佛法同样是“业精于勤,荒于嬉”。这个业就是闻思修的法业。“散乱”为何叫做魔呢?《四十二章经》说:“制心一处,无事不办。”就是把心力集中在一点上,就会激发智慧的火花。心被散乱魔支配,不能集中心力,什么佛法都不能成就,所以散乱是障碍佛法成就的魔王。

“恒时精进闻思修诸业”:“恒”就是日复一日、年复一年地勤学苦修,朝于斯,暮于斯,日就月将,很多年坚持不懈地努力。世间人忙碌奔波,都是向外追求名利财色。修行人是修自己的心。所做就是闻思修,这是修行人每天应该做的唯一法业。“诸业”,就是诸多的十法行,背、听、诵、读都属于“闻”,目的是熏习,把佛法的文句反反复复地熏习熟练;思维、观察、研讨都是“思”;串习就是“修”。

命根是在哪一点上比喻呢?比如人体有很多根——眼根、耳根、鼻根、舌根、身根……,其中以命根为最主要,有了它,生命才能存在,才有人体气血脏腑的运行。如果命根断了,一切生命活动就会立即停止,所以命根是维系生命存在的根本。佛法的命根为闻思修,闻思修一断,佛法就灭亡,慧命会中断。一个修行人不作闻思修,那就已经退出了修行人的行列,因为他相续里没有了佛法,见不到任何佛法方面的真实运作,实际上和世间人的相续没有两样。从整个佛教来看,如果佛弟子不重视闻思修,佛法就会在世间越来越衰弱,就逐渐变成末法,变成没有法的内涵,最后法会灭绝,在世间连三宝的名字都听不到。所以,摒除散乱,专心致志地闻思修,这是佛法的命根所在。只有如此,才能续佛慧命、住持佛法。

《入行论》中讲,即使长夜修行念诵、苦行等等,如果散乱而修,佛说没有义利。所以一切散乱的善行,果是很微少的。《修信大乘经》中说:“善男子,由此异门,说诸菩萨,随其所有信解大乘,大乘出生,当知一切皆是由其不散乱心正思法义之所出生。”用这一句来证明上师的这一颂,恰如其分。经里说得清楚,菩萨所有从信解大乘而出生大乘功德,都是从心不散乱如理思维法义而生起的。所谓不散乱,就是我们的心除了缘圣法之外,不去缘其它世间八法。破坏我们闻思修的魔王就是散乱心。心不随散乱转,静下心来,一心缘圣法的文句和意义以观慧观察抉择,这才能生起一切大乘功德。所以,这就是佛法的命根所在。上师归摄为一颂告诉我们这个大关要。所以要牢记:“值遇释教精华之法时,未成随诸散乱魔引转,恒时精进闻思修诸业,此为佛法命根故当知。”

更深层地理解,这一颂的深化就是弥勒菩萨《辨中边论》中所讲的随法行,那里面说:“随法行二种,谓诸无散乱,无颠倒转变,诸菩萨应知。”什么是随法的正行?一个是止,就是除了所缘的法义之外不向其它处散乱;一个是观,就是以胜观无颠倒地观见诸法的自性,这就是随法正行。前面止是后面观的所依处,没有止也不可能有观。所以,如何让佛法住世?如何心随法而修行?就是要把上师这一颂的教诲贯彻到底、奉行到底。

倘若不具闻思修三慧,无能践行解脱妙道故,

勿以仅披僧衣出家相,心生满足意乐诸心友。

上师教诲我们说:诸位心友!如果不具有闻思修的智慧,那就如同无眼的盲人一般,无力行走解脱的妙道,因此你们切莫只以披着僧衣的形象就心里满足。

这里,前两句是从反面显示三慧和行解脱道的关系。三慧就是由听闻所生起的智慧,由思维所生起的智慧,由修习所生起的智慧。行解脱道是把以往那个念念造成生死的方式反转过来,向着出生死的方向,去积聚出生死的因缘。本来外面也不存在什么解脱道。道是一个比喻,是说你的心开始按这样来行,解脱道和六道本是相反的两个方向,心上一定发生了不同以往的转变,才可能走解脱道。怎么能完成转变呢?那就一定要有闻思修的智慧。没有闻思智慧,我们不会发现自己以往的想法、做法,都是错误、都是轮回。认识不到这个颠倒,那所谓的解脱,连怎么走、往哪个方向走都不知道,怎么走得了解脱道?每天不还是在生死道上狂奔吗?所以,很多事都是换汤不换药,形式上从这一套换成了那一套,心相续却还是老样子,造成这种状况的根本原因,就是不具备闻思修的智慧。所以,虽然外面现出家人、修行人、大居士的形象,里面却还是搞世间名利的一套。

闻思修的智慧是修行解脱道最重要、最根本的因。以闻慧和思慧的眼睛才能看到解脱道的路线。以修慧的眼睛才能现证解脱道。从获得小乘解脱来看,一个要有出离心,一个要有通达人无我的智慧。但是不作闻思修,“三界周遍是苦性”这一点就认识不到,进一步想从三界苦海出离的心就引发不出来,这样在意乐上并没有离开原先一念又一念希求轮回圆满的心态,还是那个乐著生死的心,一念接一念地流浪生死。所以,只有对苦谛闻思修,对三界是苦性看得越来越清楚,心越来越厌离,积聚到一定量时,心再也不往轮回的方面想,这时候百分之百地内心向往解脱,一心朝解脱的方向走,这就是从随顺生死的路上跳脱出来,义无反顾地踏上了解脱道。“人无我”的方面也是如此,没有慧眼,决定是入不了的。那个顽固的我执,会让你念念缘着自我转,处处以自我为中心,这样以我执引发而造作,都成了流转生死的业,怎么能获得解脱?

像这样,要知道有闻思修三慧才能修出出离心和无我智慧,才能把原先念念生死的道一刀截断,掉转头来进入解脱道。这就是所谓的逆生死流。

谈到大乘一切种智解脱,那就更高,需要发菩提心、受菩萨戒、实际行持六度来超越生死、涅槃二边的束缚。其中发心、受戒、六度万行,每一步都离不开闻思修,不然就只落于形象,修证是决定谈不上的。

由以上的理由,上师说:你们不要只以一个穿僧衣的外相,就心里满足。这是远远不足够的。解脱道要内心拥有闻思修的智慧才能实行。想一想,内心里什么闻思修的智慧都没有,解脱道一步也前进不了。凭这样能解脱、成佛吗?能截断无始生死流转吗?能把无量众生救出生死吗?所以,闻思修是佛法的命根。凡是佛弟子都要知道这是需要昼夜精进努力的法业。

In our lives, we may often make mistakes, often out of negligence, and sometimes even unknowingly. However, making mistakes is not useless — there is actually a lot that we can learn from our missteps if we reflect on them and use them as an opportunity to improve ourselves. Of course, it also depends on how we make our errors. If we are making mistakes out of carelessness, then we should simply take more care with our actions. However, if someone makes mistakes even when being careful, then this is a good chance to learn and improve oneself in the future. Firstly, mistakes give us opportunities to explore our own shortcomings. Having recognised our shortcomings, we can then become more conscientious of our actions in the future. Finally, we can acquire the knowledge of correctly distinguishing between what is right and what is wrong. Making the same mistakes again and again will lead us nowhere, but proper reflection on our mistakes and changing our behaviour as a result can lead us to better prospects. Sometimes we might think that it is easy to judge others and pretend to know others very well. However, knowing the true personality of others is difficult because what we are able to see from appearances does not give us the total picture of a person. Even if we have known someone since we were young, it is still hard to learn everything about that individual as many characteristics may be hidden deep inside. Therefore, it would be really wise and safe from our side not to jump to conclusions.

-- Zurmang Gharwang Rinpoche

Preparing to Die

by Andrew Holecek

Death is one of the most precious experiences in life. It is literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The karma that brought us into this life is exhausted, leaving a temporar­ily clean slate, and the karma that will propel us into our next life has not yet crystallised. This leaves us in a unique “no-man’s-land,” a netherworld the Tibetans call bardo, where all kinds of possibilities can materialise. At this special time, with the help of skilful friends, we can make rapid spiritual progress and directly influence where we will take rebirth. We can even attain enlightenment.

Buddhist masters proclaim that because of this karmic gap, there are more opportunities for enlightenment in death than in life. Robert Thurman, a translator of The Tibetan Book of the Dead, says, “The time of the between [bardo]… is the best time to attempt consciously to affect the causal process of evolution for the better. Our evolutionary momentum is temporarily fluid during the between, so we can gain or lose a lot of ground during its crises.”

But even for spiritual practitioners, death remains a dreaded event. We dread it because we don’t know much about it. We do not look forward to death because we don’t know what to look forward to. For most of us, death is still the great unknown. It is the ultimate blackout, something to be avoided at all costs. So we have a choice. We can either curse the dark­ness or turn on the light.

Death is not the time for hesitation or confusion. It is the time for confi­dent and compassionate action. Lama Zopa Rinpoche says, “This is when people must do something for the person who has died; this is the most crucial time for the person.” The Tibetan Book of the Dead says, “This is the dividing line where buddhas and sentient beings are separated. It is said of this moment: in an instant, they are separated; in an instant, complete enlightenment.”

The moment of death, like that of birth, is our time of greatest need. The beginning and the end of life are characterised by vulnerability, bewil­derment, and rich opportunity. In both cases, we are stepping into new territory — the world of the living or the world of the dead. The person who is dying, and his or her caretakers, have an opportunity to create the conditions that will make the best of this priceless event.

Tibetan Buddhism is not the only Buddhist tradition that teaches the bardos, but it offers the most complete set of instructions for the bardos. The central orienting view in the Tibetan world is that of the three death bardos: the painful bardo of dying, the luminous bardo of dharmata, and the karmic bardo of becoming. The painful bardo of dying begins with the onset of a disease or condition that ends in death. In the case of sudden death, this bardo occurs in a flash. It is called “painful” because it hurts to let go. The luminous bardo of dharmata begins at the end of the bardo of dying. For most of us, it passes by unrecog­nised. Dharmata means “suchness” and refers to the nature of reality, the enlightened state. It is fantastically brilliant, hence “luminous.” It is so bright that it blinds us and we faint. We then wake up dazed in the karmic bardo of becom­ing. Suchness is gone, and confusion re-arises as karma returns to blow us into our next life.

While the Tibetan Buddhist tradition offers many helpful guidelines, they are not meant to restrict the sacred experience of death. The map is never the territory. Even though death and rebirth are described in extraordinary detail by the Tibetans, dying is never as tidy as the writ­ten word. It is important for the dying, and their caregivers, to study and prepare. But prepara­tion only goes so far. Fixating on the idea of a “good death” can paradoxically prevent one. If we think that our death will follow a prescribed order and that perfect preparation leads to a perfect death, we will constrict the wonder of a mysterious process.

Surrender is more important than control. A good death is defined by a complete openness to whatever arises. So don’t measure your death against any other, and don’t feel you have to die a certain way. Let your life, and your death, be your own. There are certain things in life that we just do our own way.

The vast literature about conscious dying is therefore both a blessing and a curse. At a certain point, we have to leap into death with a beginner’s mind and a spirit of adventure. Visions of the perfect death create expectations, a model that we feel we have to match. If experience doesn’t match expectation, we might panic: “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” “I didn’t plan on it ending this way.” Death is about letting go. That includes letting go of any expectations. The dan­ger in learning too much about death is that we end up pre-packaging the experience, forcing real­ity into the straightjacket of our concepts.

The best approach is that of the middle way. Learn as much as you can. Study, practice, and prepare. Then drop everything and let this natu­ral process occur naturally. Throw away the map and fearlessly enter the territory. It’s like prepar­ing for a big trip. We want to pack properly, review our checklists, and ensure that we have enough money and gas. But when the trip starts, we just enjoy it. We don’t worry about doing it perfectly. Some of our greatest travel adventures happen when we take a wrong turn or get lost. Having thoroughly prepared, we relax in know­ing we have everything we need.

Practices to Prepare You for Death

SHAMATHA MEDITATION

Two central themes are repeated throughout The Tibetan Book of the Dead. The first theme is “Do not be distracted.” This relates to shamatha, calm abiding meditation, which is the ability to rest your mind on whatever is happening. The stability gained through shamatha enables you to face any experience with confidence. In life, and especially in death, distraction is a big deal. The French philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote, “Distraction is the only thing that consoles us for our miseries, and yet it is itself the greatest of our miseries.” Shamatha removes the misery.

Shamatha is a fundamental form of mindfulness meditation. Mindfulness is a powerful preparation because as mindfulness matures into its more advanced levels, it does not disintegrate at death. If we cultivate proficiency in this one practice alone, it will act as a spiritual lifeline that we can hold on to during the bardos, and that will guide us through their perilous straits.

One of the best preparations for death is learning to accept it and to be fully present for it. Being fully present is the essence of mindfulness, which is developed through shamatha. Because death isn’t comfortable, it’s difficult to be with. As Woody Allen said, “I’m not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” Most of us aren’t there for our deaths and there­fore make it more difficult. To get a feel for this, recall how hard it is to be fully present when you’re sick. Most of us just want out.

Even for an advanced practitioner, it can hurt when the life force separates from the body. Resistance to this hurt, to death, or to any unwanted event is what creates suffering. We can prepare to embrace the discomfort of death by embracing every moment with mindfulness now. Replace opposition with equanimity. As Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche says, when we are a dying person, we should be a dying person fully. Don’t try to be a living person when living is not what’s happening.

Mindfulness is initially cultivated by practic­ing shamatha with form or referential shamatha. This type of shamatha uses the reference of the body, the breath, or an object to steady the mind. The idea is to use a stable form — while we still have one — as a way to stabilise the mind. When physical stability disappears at death, mental sta­bility becomes our primary refuge.

When we die, the anchor of the body is cut away and the mind is set free. If we’re not pre­pared for this freedom, we may panic. Imagine being tossed out of a rocket into outer space. The ensuing freak-out impels us to grasp at any­thing that can re-establish a sense of ground. Like catching ourselves just before taking a bad spill on a patch of ice, we reflexively reach out to grab on to anything that keeps us from falling. This grasping reflex can spur us to take on an unfortu­nate form — and therefore an unfortunate rebirth.

The fruition of shamatha is the ability to rest your mind on any object for as long as you wish and to do so without distraction. Wherever you plop your awareness it stays there, like a bean bag hitting the ground.

Shamatha with form develops into formless shamatha. This is the ability to rest your mind on whatever arises, not just a specified form. You take off the training wheels and ride smoothly on top of anything.

Formless, or non-referential, shamatha is important because when the body drops away at death, we no longer have any stable forms upon which to place our mindfulness. There’s noth­ing steady to refer to. At this groundless point, instead of mentally thrashing about trying to find a form to grasp, formless shamatha allows us to rest on any experience without being swept away. It’s not a problem if we don’t have a body to come back to. We simply place our minds on whatever is happening and gain stability from that. Formless shamatha is a lifesaver that keeps us from drown­ing in a bewildering ocean of experience.

The simplicity of mindfulness belies its profundity. It is the gateway to immortality. The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein said, “If by eternity is understood not endless temporal dura­tion but timelessness, then he lives eternally who lives in the present.”

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche and Padmasambhava agree. They taught the four ways to relate to the experience of time, emphasising the fourth moment. The first three moments relate to the conventional experiences of past, present, and future. The fourth moment is timeless and there­fore immortal. It’s beyond the first three. The fourth moment is the immediate experience of the bardo of dharmata, which transcends time and space. We don’t have to die to experience the deathless dharmata. It lies quietly between each thought — not just between each life.

Even though it transcends the first three moments, the only way to enter the fourth moment is through the inlet of the present. Nowness, in other words, is the funnel into eternity. B.K.S. Iyengar, the modern yoga mas­ter, says, “The yogi learns to forget the past and takes no thought for the morrow. He lives in the eternal present.”

If you can’t see this in the gap between your thoughts, you can get a feel for it when you’re immersed in an activity. If you’re one hundred percent present, whether it’s playing with your kids, being at a great concert, or engrossed in work, time seems to stand still. You may come out of such an experience, look at the clock, and be startled by how much time has flown by.

This is a concordant experience of the fourth moment — the entry into the realm where time, and therefore you, disappear.

These magical states, akin to what psychologists call the state of “flow” and athletes refer to as the “zone,” don’t have to be accidental. The zone of the fourth moment can be cultivated by training the mind to be present. In this regard, as Zen teacher Baker Roshi puts it, mindfulness makes you “accident prone.” The more you practice mindfulness, the more you stumble into the zone. Those who achieve shamatha can rest their minds in meditative absorption, or samadhi, and taste immortality. They have tripped into the deathless zone of total presence.

Despite the complexity of the bardos, the meditations that prepare us for them don’t need to be complex. Simplicity and relaxation are two key instructions for the bardos. Don’t underesti­mate the power of mindfulness. The Indian mas­ter Naropa said, “Since the consciousness [in the bardo] has no support, it is difficult to stabilise mindful intention. But if one can maintain mind­fulness, traversing the path will be trouble-free. Meditating for one session in that intermediate state may be liberating.”

VIPASHYANA MEDITATION

The second main theme in The Tibetan Book of the Dead is that “recognition and liberation are simultaneous.” This relates to vipashyana, the practice of insight meditation. Shamatha pacifies the mind; vipashyana allows us to see it. By seeing our mind more clearly, we’re able to recognise how it works. This helps us relate to it skilfully. In the bardos we’re “forced” to relate to our mind, simply because there’s nothing else. Outer world is gone, body is gone, so mind becomes reality. Through insight meditation we discover that whatever arises in the bardos is just the dis­play of our mind. That recognition sets us free.

Just as recognising that we’re dreaming while still in a dream (lucid dreaming) frees us from the suffering of the dream, recognising that we’re in the bardos frees us from the suffering of the bar­dos. Before we became lucid, the dream tossed us to and fro like Styrofoam bobbing on turbulent waters. But once we wake up to the dream — while still being in it — the tables are suddenly turned. We now have complete control over an experience that just controlled us. Whether in dream or death, this level of recognition and ensuing liberation is cultivated with vipashyana, or “clear seeing.”

Instead of taking the terrifying visions of the bardo to be real and getting caught in the result­ing nightmare, we can wake up in the bardos. We do this by recognising all the appearances to be the display of our own mind. This recognition is exercised in meditation. The meditation instruc­tion is to label whatever distracts us as “think­ing.” For example, a thought pops up of needing to buy some milk. We mentally say, “thinking,” which is recognising that we have strayed, then return to our meditation. Our clear seeing melts the distracting thought on contact. Labelling and liberation are simultaneous.

Unrecognised thought is the daytime equivalent of falling asleep. Each discursive thought is a mini-day dream. Drifting into mindless thinking is how we end up sleepwalking through life — and therefore death. Saying “thinking ” in our medi­tation is therefore the same as saying, “Wake up!” We wake up and come back to reality — not to our dreamy visions (thoughts) about it. If we can wake up during the day and be mindful, we will be able to wake up in the bardo after we die. This is what it means to become a buddha, an “awakened one.” And this is the fruition of shamatha-vipashyana.

Earlier we said that in the bardos, mind (thought) becomes reality. What do you come back to if there is only mind? You come back to just that recognition. As in a lucid dream, you realise that whatever arises is merely the play of your mind. This allows you to witness whatever appears without being carried away by it. Since you no longer have a body, or any other material object to take refuge in, you take refuge in rec­ognition (awareness) itself. From that awakened perspective, it doesn’t matter what happens. It’s all just the display of the mind.

TONGLEN

Tonglen, which is the practice of taking in the suffering of others and giving out the goodness within ourselves, is a strong preparation for death. It is especially powerful for a dying per­son to practice and for others to do when some­one has died. The rugged quality of this practice can match the toughness of death. The more I’m around death, the more I find myself taking ref­uge in tonglen.

The reason we suffer during life, or death, is because we are selfish. When we think small, every little irritation gets big. Conversely, when we think big, difficulties get small. Tonglen is about thinking and feeling big. To think big, we should first reflect upon our good fortune. We have the precious dharma to guide us through the bardos, and we have the potential to transform death into enlightenment. We are incredibly fortunate to die held by the teachings of the Buddha, the awak­ened one who transcended death.

Now think about the millions who are dying without being held. Imagine all those who are dying alone, under violent conditions or with­out physical or spiritual refuge. We can reduce our anguish by putting our death in perspec­tive. Tonglen instils that perspective and brings greater meaning to our death.

If you take a teaspoon of salt and put it into a shot glass of water, the water is powerfully affected. It gets super salty. If you take the same amount of salt and put it into Lake Michigan, it has virtually no effect. Tonglen transforms our mind from a shot glass into Lake Michigan. On every level, suffering is the result of the mind’s inability to accommodate its experience. Lama Zopa Rinpoche says:

Try to die with this motivation. If you die with this bodhichitta thought, your death becomes a cause of your enlightenment and a cause for the enlightenment of all sentient beings. Live your life with this precious thought . . . . As you get closer to death, you should think, “I’m experiencing death on behalf of all sen­tient beings.” Try to die with this thought. In this way, you are dying for others. Dying with the thought of others is the best way to die.

— from Wholesome Fear, by Lama Zopa Rinpoche and Kathleen McDonald

 

The Indian sage Shantideva said, “If you want to be miserable, think only of yourself. If you want to be happy [even in death], think only of others.” Tonglen is therefore a way to practice the good heart of bodhichitta. When asked what practice he would do during death, Trungpa Rinpoche once replied, “Tonglen.”

REVERSE MEDITATIONS

Tonglen is part of a family of practices we could call “reverse meditations.” They are called reverse because with these practices we do things that are the opposite of what we usually associ­ate with meditation. Reverse meditations expand our sense of meditation and prepare us for death. They are based on the tenet that if you can bring unwanted experience into the sanctuary of sanity provided by meditation, you can transform that obstacle into opportunity. This approach applies to life and especially to death. If you can bring death onto the path, you can flip it into enlight­enment. The most unwanted experience trans­forms into the most coveted experience. Tonglen is a classic reverse meditation because it takes in the darkness of others and sends out our light. This is the reverse of how ego operates.

Pain meditation is a reverse meditation that prepares us for the painful bardo of dying. In addition to the emotional pain of letting go, there is often physical pain associated with disease. To prepare for this pain, we voluntarily bring it into our experience now, on our terms.

Reverse meditations are done within the con­text of shamatha meditation. This provides the crucible for establishing a proper relationship to the unwanted experience. For the pain medita­tion, after doing shamatha for a few minutes you can bite your lip or tongue, or dig your fingernail into your thumb, and explore the sensation. Go into the pain. What is pain? What is it made of? What happens if I dissolve into it? Reverse medi­tations are not pleasant. But neither is death. Do them for short sessions, and remember that mas­ochism is not the point.

While the pain may not disappear, the suffer­ing does. Pain meditation helps us erase what Trungpa Rinpoche called “negative negativity,” which is the resistance to the pain. Negative negativity is like being shot with two arrows. The first arrow hurts you physically. If you can stay with that pain and relate to it directly, it will still hurt, but not as much as when you bring in your storylines. The second arrow is the mental commentary that transforms simple pain into complex suffering.

By becoming one with the pain, there is no one to hurt. And the character of the pain changes. This practice radically alters our relationship to discomfort. It reverses it. The next time you get a headache, turn that pain into meditation. Watch the pain transform before your eyes.

Reverse meditations require diligence. We would rather sit in tranquillity than plunge into pain. But to establish a healthy relationship to unwanted experiences, we have to spend time with them. It’s always easier to do so on our own terms. We may think we’ll be able to relate to pain or death just by having read about it, but that attitude is seldom realised when we actually hurt or die.

Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche says:

It is very difficult to transform an experience of intense suffering if we have no basis for work­ing with pain to begin with. Therefore, it is ini­tially necessary to work with minor pains and illnesses and discover how we can bring these to the path. Then, as more severe sicknesses come to us, we are able to bring those to the path as well. Eventually, we become capable of bringing even the most debilitat­ing conditions to the path.… If you become accustomed to looking at the experience of pain — if that looking is genuine and you can rest your mind in the pure sensation — then you will see a difference in how you experience the pain.… When a greater sickness strikes us, we will not be hit by it in the same way. It will not be such a problem or a shock. We can face even the pain and suffering of dying with greater confidence because we are facing familiar territory instead of the unknown. When the actual moment of death arrives, we will be able to look at that pain and transform it.

— from Mind Beyond Death, by Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche

Having done this pain meditation for years, I now relate very differently to the sting of an insect bite or a stubbed toe. Instead of my knee-jerk aversion to pain, it almost becomes spiritual. My throb­bing toe reminds me to meditate, which alters the intensity of the pain. I’m begin­ning to bring pain onto my path.

Another reverse meditation is to cre­ate as many thoughts as possible. Instead of calming your mind down, whip it up. Again, start with shamatha, then make your mind as stormy as possible. Think of yesterday, think of tomorrow, visual­ise Paris, New York, or the pyramids. Do so as quickly as you can. Now is your chance to do what you always wanted to do on the meditation cushion: go hog wild mentally. This is particularly helpful for the karmic bardo of becoming, where the gales of karma rearise and blow us into our next life. By becoming familiar with those winds now, we’ll be able to sail in stormy seas later.

Notice that you can sit quietly in the centre of this voluntary cyclone and not be moved by it. You’re practising how to hold your seat in the midst of men­tal chaos. Don’t buy into the thoughts and emotions. Just watch the upheaval. This practice expands the sense of sha­matha because even though your mind is howling, you’re able to maintain inner peace. As the sage Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj said, “It is disinterestedness that liberates.”

Do the meditation for a minute. Rest in shamatha, then do it again. Because reverse meditations are intense, short sessions prevent resentment. Don’t underestimate the power of short medi­tations. Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche says, “We usually view anything small as unimportant and not really worth doing. For example, if we only have five min­utes to meditate, we tell ourselves, ‘Oh, five minutes is nothing. It is not enough to change my life. I need to practice for at least an hour.’” But with meditation, short is sweet. It’s like running. You don’t start with a marathon. You start with short runs and work your way up. Short sessions repeated frequently are just as effective as longer sessions done infrequently, if not more so. And when it comes to mixing meditation and post-meditation, which is how to transform your life into meditation, short frequent sessions reign supreme.

Another meditation is to place your­self in a loud and overly stimulating envi­ronment, then work on staying centred. Flip on the television, crank up the ste­reo, turn on the alarm clock, and sit with the cacophony. Go to a loud and crazy place and meditate. If you have kids, this environment is already part of your life. One of Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche’s sons once complained to him about how hard it is to meditate in Kathmandu because of all the noise and distraction. Rinpoche said to him, “If you can’t practice under these conditions, how will you ever prac­tice in the bardo?”

As with all reverse meditations, find the silence in the noise, the stillness in the motion. Even if you never do these meditations, just knowing about them helps you reverse your relationship to unwanted experiences. The next time you’re in a crazy environment, like a subway station or Times Square, you might remember these instructions and transform the mayhem into meditation.

I frequently travel to India, a land of intense chaos. Instead of getting irritated when the flies, heat, noise, beggars, and pollution assaults me, I try to relax into the pandemonium. I reverse my usual defensive approach to these unpleasant situations and bring them onto my path. There are times when I just can’t do it and run away. But even then, I remember the spirit of these strange meditations and try to convert my automatic aversion.

All the reverse meditations culminate in equanimity, which is the ability to relate to whatever arises without bias. At the highest stages of the path, one no longer has any preference for chaos or calm, samsara or nirvana. Everything is experi­enced evenly. Pleasant experiences are not cultivated; unpleasant ones are not shunned.

As we have seen, distraction is one of the biggest prob­lems in life and death. Therefore, one of the most important instructions is “do not be distracted.” The reverse medita­tions are a formidable way to end distraction because they bring distraction onto the path. They show us how to reverse our relationship to distraction. Instead of feeling that our meditation is constantly being interrupted — by a thought, a noise, or even life itself — the reverse meditations bring these interruptions into our practice. They become our practice. Khenpo Tsultrim Gyamtso Rinpoche said that if you’re in retreat and hear a noise that makes you angry, it’s a sign that you’re unable to bring distraction onto your path.

Since fear is common in the bardos, Khenpo Rinpoche recommends watching horror movies as a way to work with it. This is a potent reverse meditation for all the bardos, but especially for the bardo of becoming. Because we don’t rec­ognise the appearances of this bardo to be projections of our mind, the farther we go into it the more terrifying it becomes. The fear becomes so piercing that it can force us to grasp an unfortunate rebirth just to escape the intensity of our own minds. Establishing a relationship to fear now helps us relate to it then and can prevent such a birth.

I find this reverse meditation really challenging. The films are wretched, violent, and extremely difficult to watch. I usu­ally have to look away, or pause the movie, to bring any sense of meditation to it. My normal response is tremendous revul­sion. But as contrived and almost silly as this practice appears, it does evoke a host of nasty feelings. It allows me to become familiar with the shadowy side of my being, a dark side that comes to light in the bardo of becoming. Horror movies give me the opportunity to befriend horrible feelings I would oth­erwise never encounter.

A key instruction in life or death is to join whatever we experience with meditation. But without actually practising this, it’s hard to do. An unwanted experience arises, habitual patterns immediately kick in, and we run from the experience or relate to it poorly. The reverse meditations allow us to replace these bad habits with good ones. When difficult situ­ations arise, wisdom kicks in instead of confusion.

When Lord Buddha spoke about suffering, He wasn't simply referring to superficial problems like illness and injury, but the fact that the dissatisfied nature of the mind itself is suffering. No matter how much of something you get, it never satisfies your desire for better or more. This unceasing desire is suffering; its nature is emotional frustration. 

-- Lama Thubten Yeshe