First, a calming down is required, followed by the mind training in wishing others well and caring about their well-being. All this grows from being at ease with ourselves—in other words, being free of suffering and not feeling so needy ourselves. Only when we are no longer so needy can we can start to care. In order for bodhichitta to be genuine, we need a basic sense of calm and ease before the possibility of training our minds to care for others becomes feasible.
It seems to me that the process follows this sequence: If we are not calmed down, it means we are still busy. This busyness pervades our whole system, including the channels and the energies that move through the channels. These become speedy and restless, drying up our vital essences. Without calming down, there is no sense of being at ease. The calmer we are, the more we begin to relax and settle. This makes room for the energies to circulate more freely and our essences to saturate our system more. As this occurs, we feel a natural delight that can turn into compassion. This being at ease with ourselves, accepting or having a certain affection for our own state of being, can be steadily expanded to include others. This is the true beginning of meditation practice.
The genuine warmth that grows out of being at ease with oneself is a little different from the idea of being a bodhisattva. The formula for the latter is the thought “I want to bring all sentient beings to the state of enlightenment.”
That idea is one aspect. Another is the actuality of how we really feel while we practice. There can seem to be quite a large disparity between the two! By relaxing and feeling a little bit at ease, are we truly establishing all beings in the state of enlightenment? This seems somewhat presumptuous, if not a bit outrageous. Still, we have to start somewhere in order for it to come true. We believe, “I am benefiting all sentient beings right now,” but it is not really true. Realistically speaking, all that we can do is start somewhere, be relaxed, have a sense of delight, and expand it to become compassion that can then gradually become all-encompassing.
To start cultivating some empathy for yourself, begin with your right arm: “What a nice little arm. Cute little fingers too. It used to look better, though, when I was younger. Ah, poor little fingers—what to do? They’re there; this is the way they are.” Then you have a left arm, legs, a body, and so on. All of these are okay; they are all there. Inside too—lungs, heart, inner organs—all okay. But before, you did not seem to give much love and care to those parts. This is not the same as body-building or trying to be something other than what you actually are at this moment. Rather, it’s more the sense of appreciating the hard work that, say, your kidneys have been doing all this time: “Sitting in front of the computer, oh, you must be tired now. I will give you a little rest. You have been working very hard. I’ll let you relax a bit now.” Also—especially!—feel some empathy for this poor brain. We have been constricting it by concentrating so hard. Now let’s give it a break.
We can begin with ourselves in this practice, trying to relax enough to finally be at ease within ourselves. Then we extend this feeling to other sentient beings who are also troubled by various difficulties: “May they all be free of suffering.” We can gradually expand from there to cover greater and greater numbers of beings, until our compassion becomes infinite.
Because it is so important for practice to be based on a relaxed mind and a carefree, easygoing attitude, the Buddha began with the teaching of shamatha. The Buddha gave two types of teachings: one for the intellect, or the brain if you prefer, and the other for experiencing an aspect you can call the heart. Thus, we have heart teachings and brain teachings. As a matter of fact, the Tibetan word for compassion has the word “heart” in it; nying is heart, and the word nyingje is compassion. Je means “the most eminent.” The eminent heart is compassion.
People are often more interested in Buddhism’s brain teachings than its heart teachings. If you focus exclusively on brain teachings, however, you start to look like this. [Rinpoche hunches over, furrows his brow, and squints his eyes] You start off like that, and it only gets worse. You’re just about to break, just about to snap, because of trying to hold on to, catch, keep, and grasp more facts, more details, more concepts. Similarly, if you focus only on the heart teachings, it can be like this [in a singsong voice]: “Luuuuv, be kind. This feels so good. Aaaah, it’s so nice. La-la. Kiss-kiss …” That could also get a little weird.
The Buddha’s teachings actually aim for a balance between heart teachings and brain teachings. In fact, we need the brain teachings to improve the heart experience and vice versa. There needs to be some balanced connection between both the heart and brain.
So how about some teamwork between the two aspects of heart and brain? We can make a connection between the brain’s understanding of the teachings and the heart’s feelings, so that we understand both the reasons for compassionate kindness and the experience of its application. Combining heart and brain is actually the ideal solution.
Getting back to the original point—without calmness of mind, it is very hard to have a sense of delight. Without this sense of delight, there is no genuine compassion. If we are totally preoccupied with our own experience—how I feel, what my problem is, and so forth—there is no chance at all for us to care about how others feel. There is simply no room for compassion. Therefore the Buddha said, “First, train in shamatha.”
We may first want to study in order to get an idea of the Buddhist teachings. But in order to become real bodhisattvas, practically speaking, we must first calm down and then generate bodhichitta out of that. If you only want the idea of being a bodhisattva, rather than the actual experience, it is enough to merely think, “May I establish all beings in enlightenment,” and it is done. Chant it a few times in the morning. In fact, do not even bother thinking about what it means, just chant it.
Imagine that this mind of ours is like a big bank, and in our account we have invested many thoughts, concepts, and inclinations. Now we are earning interest on a daily basis, nonstop, in the form of further thoughts and concepts that arise incessantly. This bank account is high-yielding! Even when we try to relax, thoughts keep popping up about this and that. We don’t have to try to think of them—somehow they just come. They occupy us, and we give them time. Other times we get advertisements, or reminders that our credit limit is running out or our account is overdrawn. Something is always coming up, even when we sleep. Even while we’re dreaming, thoughts are coming up continuously. Right now, those of us who are middle-aged have already made substantial investments in this account. We’re drawing quite a bit of interest by now. We start earning major interest around the age of forty-five. Before that, we get a certain amount of interest, but mainly we’re busy investing and reinvesting. You understand?
Isn’t it true that the moment you lean back and relax, you naturally start to think of something? An object comes into your field of thought. Even if you don’t want to think, it happens. This is the interest from your previous investment coming into your mind. Even if we decide, “I don’t want that to happen! I’m closing this bank account!” it still happens. Thoughts continue to arise, because this is the natural course of things. We are totally and completely caught up in the cogs of this thinking machinery right now. If we want to stop this process, we must blow up the whole bank. There is no other way. Where exactly is this bank? It is located in a place called the alaya, the all-ground, and the name of the bank is concepts. Call it Conceptual First Bank. The interest that is paid out at such a generous rate is called thoughts and emotions.
What can we do about this situation? The bank is already there; we’ve already made considerable investments on which we are receiving enormous interest, and we don’t know how to blow up the bank. Most people just suffer through this situation, thinking each thought as it comes, feeling each emotion as it wells up. In practical terms, how do we deal with this? This is where Dharma practice comes in. It is another sort