By Gil Fronsdal

When the Buddha, at age 29, left his palace life to seek liberation, he spent most of his remaining fifty–one years living in the forests, woodlands, and parks of Northern India. These natural settings were the incubator for both his awakening and his teaching. The important connection he saw between nature and the practices he taught is encapsulated in his emphatic instruction to meditate in the forest at the foot of a tree. He claimed that as long as his followers practice in the forest the path of liberation would not decline. The Buddha’s great Awakening, or bodhi, at the age of 35 occurred as he sat meditating outdoors under a tree, protected by its canopy. One legend explains that after his Awakening he spent seven days gazing in gratitude at the tree that sheltered him in his final quest for liberation. The tree — known scientifically as Ficus religiosa — is held up as the living symbol of the Buddha’s Awakening and represents the important connection between Buddhism and the natural world.

The Buddha chose to die in a quiet forested area. His lying down to die peacefully and mindfully between two trees is a powerful image of living (and dying) in harmony with the natural world. In Buddhism nature is not seen as an adversary; it is our partner for living at peace. In between his Awakening and his death, the natural world was ubiquitous in the Buddha’s life and teachings. Forests and woodland parks were the most common setting in which people met the Buddha and heard his teachings. As such, nature provided the backdrop and unspoken context for his teachings and how people heard them.

For example, when he recognized his son, Rahula, was ripe for liberation, the Buddha led him to a grove deep in the woods. Sitting on the ground, surrounded by large, majestic tropical trees, the Buddha offered teachings that guided his son to awakening. The natural setting must have contributed to Rahula’s ability to receive the teachings as deeply as he did. The tranquility of the grove and the grandeur of the great trees sharpened his attention, calm, and receptivity. The diminishing of self – preoccupation that comes from sitting in an inspiring natural setting probably made it easier to be impacted by the Buddha’s teachings on not clinging to self. The sense of being protected and supported by nature must have made it easier to trust letting go fully.

There is a long tradition of Buddhist monastics living simple lifestyles in the forests. In fact, there is a monastic tradition called “forest monastics.” One monk, a disciple of the Buddha named Maha Kassapa, expressed his joy in meditating in the mountains with the following verses:

With beautiful darkening clouds,

Streams of pure water,

And ground covered with ladybugs,

These rocky heights delight me.

Covered in blue flowers

As the sky is covered in clouds,

And filled with flocks of birds,

These rocky heights delight me.

Without crowds of people,

But visited by herds of deer,

And filled with flocks of birds,

These rocky heights delight me. — Theragatha 1062 – 5

Because such delight is an aid to meditation, for centuries many Buddhists have found it helpful to practice outdoors, in natural settings. The great 20th Century Thai forest monk, Ajahn Buddhadasa not only practiced for decades in the forests, but he also gave most of his teachings outdoors. Those who listened to his teachings did so sitting on the ground among the trees.

The Buddha often used examples and metaphors from nature to illustrate his teachings: Growing in spiritual practice is like the rising sun dispelling the darkness of night. Progress along the path of practice is like mountain streams flowing downhill. Deep concentration is like a peaceful pond; having insight is likened to looking into a clear, still mountain lake; spiritual maturity is “entering the stream” leading to awakening. Awakening is like the heartwood at the core of a tree. Someone who is fully liberated is like a lotus rising out of muddy water while being unstained by the mud below.

In the modern world, it is easy to discuss Buddhism without reference to the natural world. Many books about Buddhism emphasize the psychological, therapeutic, and philosophical aspects of the religion without any mention of the role nature can have in the lives of Buddhist practitioners. These books commonly leave out the backdrop in which the teachings were originally given. The natural world outside of urban settings points to freedom from the complexity of social life. A peaceful and beautiful natural setting can loosen self–identification and self–preoccupation as these become increasingly irrelevant. It also can provide a sense of serenity that supports inner calm; many people breathe easier when relaxing in nature.

Nature can also be an effective teacher. In particular, it can provide lessons in the impermanence of life; just as change is inherent in nature, so we can expect we will change. Being in nature can also teach us the importance of living in harmony with nature. Also, spending time in the wilderness can help us confront our fears and build skills of attention and self – reliance. A long tradition in Buddhism sees an intimate and mutual interaction between nature and people’s inner life; the health of the natural environment is closely tied to the people’s physical and spiritual health. Caring for the environment is a way to care for ourselves. And if we care for our own well–being, we would care for the environment.

When we live disconnected from nature, it is hard to remember the intimate connection between our life and the health of the natural world. When we spend time in nature, it is easier to understand how they work together. If we take up the Buddha’s instruction to meditate at the foot of a tree, perhaps our appreciation of the natural world will grow. And perhaps sitting in nature will show us the natural world that is within each of us.

Even if we cannot be outside in the natural world, with a calm, clear mind, we can find the natural world within us. In important ways, the nature within and the nature outside of us are the same — they live in a mutual relationship. If we then want to care for our environment, we will become “nature taking care of nature.”

The Buddha as an Activist

By Gil Fronsdal

What has been taught by the Buddha

is to act for the welfare of many people,

for the happiness of many people,

for the benefit, welfare, and happiness of many people.[1]

 

The Buddha clearly and actively advocated for the welfare of the whole world, including encouraging his followers to work for “the benefit, welfare, and happiness of many people.” In this way, he was an “activist.” However, living in the Bronze Age in countries ruled by kings, the Buddha could not have been an activist in how the word is commonly used in modern times.  There were no laws to change as governing was at the whim of kings, no elections to influence because there were no elections, and no economic system to reform as there were none of the economic systems, policies, or institutions at play in our modern world. In the primarily agrarian world where he lived—with just the beginning of an urban society of craftspeople and merchants—the Buddha lived in a time and place where person-to-person contact and relationships were primary influences on people’s daily lives. 

Therefore, instead of legislative, political, or economic activism, the Buddha focused on changing how people treat each other. As such, his activism was focused on establishing ethical behavior as the foundation for how a society operates.  While he frequently and personally advocated for people to avoid harming others, he was an activist because he encouraged others to also advocate for this. Through his followers, he worked to spread his ethical activism out into the societies of his time.

The Buddha’s efforts to have others advocate against unethical behavior is seen in teaching on “the ten unwholesome actions.” Here, he first explains that these ten actions are harmful and then discusses what is worse. Second, he says that abstaining from these ten behaviors is beautiful and then discusses what is better than this beauty. The word “beautiful,” kalayana, has meanings that overlap with the English word “ethics,” as seen in the following abbreviated quote of the teaching:

I will teach you what is harmful and what is worse than harmful.  And I will teach you what is beautiful and what is better than beautiful.  

What is harmful?

Killing, taking what is not given, sexual misconduct, speaking falsely, speaking divisively, speaking harshly, speaking pointlessly, being avaricious, having hostility, and having wrong view. 

What is worse than harmful?

Killing and prompting others to kill, taking what is not given and prompting others to take what’s not given, … having wrong view and prompting others to have wrong view. 

What is beautiful?

Abstaining from killing, abstaining from taking what is not given, abstaining from sexual misconduct, abstaining from speaking falsely, abstaining from speaking divisively, abstaining from speaking harshly, abstaining from speaking pointlessly, abstaining from being avaricious, abstaining from having hostility, and abstaining from having wrong view. 

What is better than beautiful?

Abstaining from killing and prompting others to abstain from killing, abstaining from taking what is not given and prompting others to abstain from taking what is not given… abstaining from having wrong view and prompting others to abstain from wrong view.[2]

Clearly, the Buddha advocates for people to be active in encouraging others to abstain from unethical behavior. The instruction says nothing about opposing those who are unethical.  Instead, the call is to do something much more difficult, i.e., motivate people to avoid—on their own accord—being unethical.  Though difficult, if successful, this is more valuable than oppositional strategies that create opposing factions with winners and losers.  

            The Buddha’s reason to be non-oppositional is inferred from different teachings on the ten unwholesome actions. In elaborating on the fifth unwholesome action, divisive speech, he describes this as speech which “divides those who are united and stirs up those who are [already] divided,” spoken by a person “who loves factionalism, delights in factionalism, enjoys factionalism, speaks to create factions.”[3]  In another teaching, the Buddha explains that abstaining from divisive speech includes abstaining from creating or perpetuating such social disunity.  It also includes speaking in ways that “unite those who are divided, support those who are [already] united … and speak to create harmony.”[4]  This is a clear instruction to be active in healing social discord and divisiveness; one is not to avoid the challenging work of uniting the divided. It is a work that aims to create concord and reconciliation, not creating or fueling opposing factions.  Encouraging his monastic disciples to work for concord the Buddha said,

Engaged in three actions are monastics acting for the welfare of many people, for the happiness of many people, for the benefit, welfare, and happiness of many people. What three?  They prompt them in physical acts of concord, verbal acts of concord, and mental acts of concord.[5]

To influence kings to prevent social discord, the Buddha relied on the indirect message of myth. With such stories, the Buddha taught that rulers should provide property to the poor, i.e., bring them out of poverty. If rulers don’t and poverty becomes widespread, people will begin stealing. And if rulers use violence to punish thieves, violence will spread throughout the realm. In the myth, violence eventually tears society apart; living by ten skillful actions heals the tear.[6]

Perhaps one reason the Buddha used myth to make this point is that, in his times, directly telling a king to rule differently could lead to violent punishment. Another reason is that in pre-literate societies such oral stories traveled far and wide; perhaps as the closest equivalent to social media in modern times for change public opinion.

For the Buddha, Dharma activists would not sacrifice their own ethical or wholesome behavior in working to end the unethical behavior of others. This can be seen in some of his instructions on living by the ten wholesome actions, i.e., engaging in the opposite of the ten unwholesome ones.[7] This includes not being hostile, even privately, in one’s thoughts. Instead, one would, as taught by the Buddha, wish for others to be free from animosity, oppression, anxiety, and to live at ease. It also involves knowing the right time to speak up and doing so with words that are treasured, reasoned, defined, and beneficial. 

As challenging as it is, the Buddha’s activism is rooted in the main aim of the spiritual practice he taught, namely, to become free from greed, hatred, and delusion. If one is not free of these, the Buddha instructed his disciples to work to “constantly remove” them.[8]  One would thereby also be free of acts of body, speech, or mind that are born from greed, hatred, and delusion. Such activism would have no hostility, deceit, and no use of brute power to defeat others.  Instead, it involves searching for ways to change the hearts of others so they would want to be ethical, perhaps following the high standards the Buddha taught.

How does all this apply to modern Buddhists living in societies organized with vastly different economic, political, and cultural systems than ancient India? It may well include advocating to change systems and institutions engaged in any of the ten unwholesome actions. It may include dissuading politicians who engage in some, perhaps all, of these unwholesome actions to stop.  Such advocacy would aim to create bridges between opposing parties. It would focus on bringing people together to work for the common good, free of factionalism. It might also involve telling stories and modern myths of concord and peaceful conflict resolution that evoke a vision of our potential for social harmony.

Modern Buddhist activism based on these early Buddhist principles would not be hostile confrontations or disparagements of anyone. It would follow the Buddha’s teaching on non-conflict where he clearly advocates the avoidance of any disparagement of people. Instead he instructs his followers to make clear statements about which actions lead to suffering and which don’t.[9] He also made is clear that in reproving others for their behavior, it should be done with a mind established in goodwill, free of malice.[10]

Instead of speaking up against injustice by opposing those who are unjust, Buddhist activism would thus speak up against unjust actions in such a way that goodwill is possible between those on different sides of issues. 

Public demonstrations could be for “demonstrating” alternatives to what is unjust or harmful.   The aim of such demonstrations would be to inspire participation rather than polarization, dialogue instead of quarreling, respect rather than demonizing, compassion in place of hate, and clear, compelling affirmations of ethical truths. When injustice is being done, a Buddhist activist would focus on vigorously protecting justice and those threatened by injustice in efforts to avoid escalating conflict. When this is not enough, one might next engage in strategic non-cooperation and non-violent resistance guided by the ten wholesome actions.

Doing such Buddhist activism is neither easy nor fast. It requires strong confidence in the value of ethical behavior. It also requires a strong determination to avoid any activism influenced by greed, hatred, and delusion. It is activism that aims to change the psychological foundation from which unethical behavior arises. Regardless of how idealistic this may seem, it is working to replace fear with generosity, love, and wisdom as the foundation of society.  

…

Among types of beneficent conduct, among the best is prompting, settling, and establishing an unethical person in ethical behavior.[11]

 

[1] Numerical Discourses 1.149

[2] Connected Discourses of the Buddha 4.207 (AN II 222-3)

[3] Middle Length Discourses 41.9 (MN I 286)

[4] Middle Length Discourses 41.13 (MN I 288)

[5] Numerical Discourse 3.11 (I 106)

[6] The Long Discourses 26.10-15 III 65-69)

[7] Middle Length Discourses 41.13 (MN I 288)

[8] Numerical Discourses 4.193.

[9] “The Discourse on Non-Conflict” in Middle Length Discourses 139.  

[10] Vinaya 2.248-9

[11] Numerical Discourses 9.5

In Buddhist practice, acquiring liberating insight goes hand-in-hand with mental cultivation. We cannot have deep insight without developing the mind, any more than a nearsighted person can see clearly without glasses. And we cannot benefit from insight without inner strength, any more than a hiker can climb a mountain without physical strength.

The three core insights of mindfulness practice are impermanence, unsatisfactoriness, and not-self. Because of their importance, these “three characteristics” are often taught enthusiastically without reference to the mental development necessary to support them. Sometimes this leads to an excessively intellectual understanding where the “insights” become merely learned concepts rather than something directly understood or seen.

Overemphasizing the three characteristics can make Buddhist practice dreary, even discouraging. For someone whose life is falling apart because of radical social or personal change, being told that everything is impermanent can be disheartening or worse. For someone whose life is filled with unrelenting suffering, learning that all is unsatisfactory takes away all hope. And for someone whose confidence and self-identity has been stripped away or was never developed, the not-self teaching can put salt in a deep wound.

The insights are best supported by a variety of inner strengths. If we don’t already have these, it is useful to cultivate them. Paradoxically, the three strengths most needed are opposite in character from the three insights. The power of mental stability enables greater insight into impermanence; the potency of well-being provides the healthy context for insight into unsatisfactoriness; and the strength of confidence keeps us balanced when we are faced with the insight into not-self.

Stability, well-being, and confidence are cultivated through Buddhist practice. For example, meditation practice stabilizes the mind; practices such as generosity, ethics, and concentration are ways of cultivating well-being; and walking the path of practice is a way to develop confidence in our personal abilities.

Mental stability is related to calm, constancy, continuity, and commitment in practice. Deep, direct insight into impermanence cannot arise in an agitated, restless mind where a preoccupation with ideas, imaginings, or memories interferes with seeing clearly. In order to perceive change it helps for the mind to be still; inner stability allows peace in the midst of change. It keeps us from being easily buffeted in times of great social and personal instability.

The term “well-being” encompasses a host of positive emotions cultivated along the Buddhist path. They include the delight, contentment, joy, happiness, and rapture that arise as we practice the path. Many practices cultivate well-being. It can arise from practicing ethical integrity and by delighting in our own goodness and good actions. Even if we have acted unethically in the past, if we learn from this and resolve to do better, our resolve can be a reason to feel good about our self. Moreover, when we know we have nothing to hide, we experience what the Buddha calls the “bliss of blamelessness,” which allows for a deep relaxation.

Acting wisely on our generous impulses also promotes our own happiness. Giving to others weakens selfishness while helping develop a positive self-regard.

One of the important functions of meditation practice is to develop joy. While it certainly should not be expected all the time, sooner or later meditation should include joy. If it doesn’t, then this can be useful to discuss with a meditation teacher.

With well-being as a support, insight into the pervasive suffering and unsatisfactoriness of much of human life doesn’t have to be depressing or frightening. Rather, it can help us direct our attention and efforts to what is truly satisfying: spiritual freedom and compassion.

Not-self can be the most difficult insight because it can be destabilizing, even frightening. However, it can be a bit like learning to ride a bicycle. At first, one may be afraid and unsteady trying to keep one’s balance. Once one has become a strong, confident rider, the fear and uncertainty disappear.

Likewise, without confidence and personal strength, the insight into not-self can be quite disorienting and uncomfortable. When we feel confident and strong, we can experience this insight with equanimity.

Sometimes the teachings on not-self are interpreted to mean one should become self-effacing and humble. While it is certainly useful to overcome conceit, Buddhist practice also involves cultivating courageous strength. The personal strengths one cultivates on the Buddhist path include integrity, honesty, patience, kindness, resolve, wisdom, and confidence. With these as a foundation, the insight into not-self has the support needed to become a catalyst for releasing all self-attachments. The obvious benefits of such letting go of self-clinging can be seen most clearly when the mind is most still and happy. Letting go of clinging to self is then seen as a step further into peace and well-being rather than anything to be feared.

The path of insight and liberation does not leave us with nothing; it leaves us with the well-developed inner treasures of a steady, happy, and confident mind. When we see that this mind is, like everything else, impermanent, unsatisfactory, and not-self, it only adds to our peace and happiness.

—Gil Fronsdal

“A wise person is motivated to benefit oneself, others, and both self and others.”

—The Buddha

Some people live focused on benefiting themselves and those to whom they feel close. Some people are devoted to benefiting others, sometimes at the expense of themselves. To the Buddha, a wise person is someone who wishes for the good of all. Our lives are so interconnected that it is not possible to benefit oneself while neglecting others. And one can’t be of much benefit to others if one neglects oneself. The path of liberation the Buddha taught neglects neither oneself nor others; it is a path that lies at the intersection of oneself and the world.

One significant place to see how Buddhist practice balances caring for oneself and others is the Eightfold Path. Four of the path factors are practices aimed primarily at benefiting others. Part of the second factor, Right Intention, is to live motivated by goodwill and compassion for others. The next three factors, Right Speech, Right Action, and Right Livelihood, are all concerned with being in the world so that our speech, action, and livelihood benefit others.

In the practice of speech the Buddha encouraged people to speak in ways that are truthful, reliable, and trustworthy and in a manner that “reunites those who are divided, promotes friendship, and speaks words that promote concord.” He also encouraged speaking about what is good and beneficial.

Right Action is defined as not killing, not taking what is not given, not engaging in sexual misconduct, and not lying. While just following these guidelines provides others with the gift of safety, the Buddha went further by saying that in living a life that doesn’t harm practitioners, one should “abide compassionate to all living beings.”

For many people, one’s livelihood is how one has the most impact on the wider social world. The practice of Right Livelihood aims at being thoroughly ethical in how one works and supports others. Exploiting or harming others through our work is antithetical to Right Livelihood.

While Right Speech, Right Action, and Right Livelihood are practices that benefit others, we also benefit when we practice them. One of the great sources of well-being and peace is a clean conscience. Our own ethical integrity can become a meaningful refuge.

The last three factors of the Eightfold Path—Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration—are usually understood to emphasize caring for oneself. All three factors focus on improving the quality of our minds and hearts. Right Effort involves learning to do those things that increase our wholesome states of mind. Right Mindfulness gives us the presence of mind to differentiate between the wholesome and unwholesome. Right Concentration brings calm, ease, and peace.

The wholesomeness and well-being that Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration bring is a wellspring for both self-care and care for others. It shows us how meaningful and beautiful the developed heart can become. It is knowledge that strengthens empathy and appreciation of others. This is probably why the Buddha often presented concentration practice as an approach for cultivating goodwill and compassion for others.

Caring for others and for oneself are not distinct from each other. When we benefit others we are benefited in return, not least because it strengthens wholesome qualities in ourselves. When we benefit ourselves through developing our integrity, hearts, and wisdom, we will inevitably benefit others. Conversely, if we harm others we will sooner or later see how this also harms us. Even if others don’t retaliate, we cannot escape our own conscience forever.

The Buddhist approach to living a wise life can be called “a life of mutual benefit.” By benefiting others we are benefited ourselves; by benefiting ourselves we are benefiting others.

However, some people may feel that any emphasis on benefiting oneself is selfish. The Buddhist response is that selfishness harms the person who is selfish. If we understand what brings and supports personal well-being, we will avoid being selfish. We will not pursue our own well-being at the expense of others.

In Buddhism, benefiting oneself is not the same as acquiring pleasure, status, or wealth. It is developing beautiful and wholesome qualities of heart. It is cultivating the kind of inner wellbeing, love, and peace that helps make how we are in the world as helpful for others as what we do.

For similar reasons, we would not want to benefit others if it harmed our self in any significant ways. How can we really touch the hearts of others if our own heart is being harmed?

A person focused on mutual benefit does not view life as a competition that only some people can win. Rather, one considers what is best for the greater good, something the Buddha described in the above quote as benefiting both self and others. This is not the greater good that sacrifices some for the welfare of the majority. It requires creatively seeking ways to improve the lives of all.

In practice, a life of mutual benefit does not mean that everything we do has to benefit everyone. It means that when we care for ourselves in healthy ways, we can be reassured that this is for the greater good. And when we care for others in healthy ways, this is for our own benefit as well. At different times, in different situations, we will act on different ends of the self/other spectrum.

At times it is appropriate, and even important, to care for oneself. Meditating every morning may be immensely helpful for the meditator. It can be as important a form of self-care as making sure one eats healthily, gets enough sleep, and keeps one’s body healthy. At the same time, daily meditation may prepare us to care for others in calmer, wiser, and more compassionate ways.

There are other times when it is appropriate to care primarily for others; their needs may be greater than our own. However, one task of mindfulness practice is to help us care for others without giving in to attitudes and reactions that are harmful to ourselves. It is important to learn how to benefit others without harming ourselves.

A life of mutual benefit embraces a wider perspective than any stance that supports conflict. Without shrinking from conflict, it searches for the common ground that can work for the common good.

To understand Dharma practice as a life of mutual benefit clearly places our practice within the context of our social life. Even if one spends long periods of time in mostly solitary meditation practice, there is always a social dimension to one’s practice. We don’t walk the path of liberation for ourselves only. We practice for the sake of all beings.

—Gil Fronsdal

The Buddha’s teachings describe an accessible path to liberation. The ancient Buddhist metaphor of a path draws on the idea of a cleared passageway that allows one to move through an otherwise impassable forest. Just as a person brings his or her entire body along when walking on a path in the forest, so a spiritual practitioner enters the Buddha’s path by engaging all aspects of who he or she is. Yet while a physical path exists whether we walk on it or not, the Buddha’s path exists only in our engagement with it. We create the path with the activities of our minds, hearts, and bodies. Teachings about the Buddha’s path are simply maps indicating how we create the path as we go.

In one version of this path metaphor, the Buddha likens spiritual liberation to a long-forgotten, overgrown city deep in the forest. Just as it’s possible to reclaim and then inhabit this city once the path to it is found, it’s possible to live a liberated life when we discover and follow a path that will take us there.

Building on the metaphor of a forest path, the Buddha compared the forest’s dense undergrowth to the many mental and emotional obstacles that limit our freedom. We each have our own inner wilderness with its dangers and challenges, but we also have within us what it takes to free ourselves of these dangers.

Because both the path and the obstacles are found within us, the Buddha’s path requires us to take responsibility for our thoughts, attitudes, and actions. It builds on the principle that we can move towards liberation by disengaging from perspectives and behaviors that weigh us down and by replacing them with behaviors that lighten us and support us as we proceed.

The Buddha’s path to liberation—known as the Noble Eightfold Path—is made up of eight interrelated practices. The Buddhist name for each of these practices is prefaced by samma, a Pali word usually translated as “right” that can also mean “proper,” “complete,” and “in harmony.” When “right” is the translation, it’s useful to think of it as meaning “appropriate,” as when we speak of having the “right tool” for a particular task. Because the path is made up of practices rather than beliefs, “right” does not refer to truths we’re obligated to adopt or to moralistic judgments of right and wrong.

The first step on the Eightfold Path is Right View, a pragmatic perspective that guides us along the path itself. We can again make an analogy with hiking. Hikers in the woods practice “orienteering”—paying careful attention to details of their surroundings in order to find their way in the wilderness. They must first have some idea where they’re going so they don’t wander aimlessly and end up getting lost. But even when the compass points us to the destination, taking the most direct course may not be possible if it entails plunging over the steepest cliffs or into the densest, most overgrown parts of the forest. By knowing what to pay attention to, a hiker can “read” the forest and discover aspects that show the best way forward.

For the Buddha’s path, this orienting perspective—called Right View—is the practice of keeping an eye on our relationship to whatever we’re experiencing. Classically this is described as using the perspective of the Four Noble Truths. Rather then getting caught up in our opinions and abstract interpretations of what we are experiencing, in this approach we ask ourselves a series of questions: Do we feel any stress, discomfort, or suffering in how we’re relating to what’s happening or not happening? What is our contribution to this suffering? What are we clinging to that is contributing to the suffering? Right View includes the encouraging perspective that clinging and its resulting suffering can be brought to an end. It also orients us to the practices of the entire Eightfold Path as the easiest and clearest path to liberation from suffering.

Right View is not meant to be the only perspective from which to view our life. Other perspectives can be necessary for other purposes. However, in order to walk the Buddha’s path to freedom, Right View is an essential ingredient. It is the perspective needed to find the path and to stay on the path.

Practicing Right View does not require believing something we can’t know for ourselves.  It does not rely on any supernatural or mystical beliefs. Nor does it require us to be ahead of where we are. Pursuing a path involves walking where we are on the path; we can’t walk on what lies ahead until we reach it.

The remaining practices of the Eightfold Path are Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration. These seven have a mutually supportive relationship with Right View. On the one hand, Right View helps us distinguish between the intentions, speech, ethical actions, livelihoods, and mental states that cause suffering and the ones that alleviate it. On the other hand, as we practice the other factors of the Eightfold Path, Right View becomes easier and more effective to practice. The more we clear the path, the easier it is to find our way.

The potential for practicing the Eightfold Path lies within us. When we practice the factors well, they transform us. They have the ability to reduce and even end our clinging, attachment, fear, hatred, and delusion. When we do this thoroughly, the Eightfold Path is no longer something we have to walk. When we are free, there is nowhere we have to go to find freedom. When we live from our freedom, the eight factors are no longer practices; amazingly, they become the natural expression of liberation. The Eightfold Path becomes who we are.

—Gil Fronsdal

Over the next eight months, Gil plans to write articles addressing each factor of the Eightfold Path. They will be posted on IMC’s website. 

Anger is one of the most common human emotions and perhaps the most dangerous. Regardless of whether the anger is directed toward ourselves or others, it can be painful and cause a great deal of suffering. While the danger of mild anger may only be discomfort for the person who is angry, rage and simmering hostility can lead to significant pain and distress for ourselves and others. The danger of anger increases dramatically when it’s acted out: relationships can be ruined, enemies made, and people’s lives shattered with angry words or actions. It’s painful to be angry, and acting with anger easily produces more pain.

It seems that whenever I teach about overcoming anger, someone inevitably insists, “But isn’t anger sometimes appropriate?” The answer depends on the nature of the anger. If the anger involves hostility, then I hope it is never necessary. I hope we can always find a better way to accomplish what is needed than through aggression. If hostility is absent and the anger is a compelling frustration or the disapproval of an injustice or harmful behavior, then perhaps anger can be appropriate—provided it is acted on with wisdom and care. Yet even if anger is appropriate, it can all too easily be expressed in harmful ways. When anger is justified, it may not be necessary to become angry. We find our freedom by seeing we have a choice.

When we’re motivated to avoid the dangers of anger, it’s important to understand the anger and to learn how to work with it so it doesn’t drive our behavior. Because taming the flames of anger can be difficult, I offer seven approaches that can help. For the sake of remembering them, I refer to them by the acronym M.A.D.L.E.S.S.—Motivation, Attention, Dissipation, Learning, Empathy, Story, and Speaking/Sharing.

M stands for Motivation and involves understanding what lies beneath our anger. Motivation can be explored with the following questions: What purpose is the anger serving? What is the anger trying to accomplish? Is the anger an attempt to release pent-up frustration or to push away something uncomfortable? Does being angry involve wanting to change, reject, or rectify something? Does the anger have a wise goal or purpose? Might there be wiser motivations or wiser actions?

Taking the time to ask these questions begins an important process of stepping back from the anger and considering it objectively. Having distanced ourselves in this way, we can then examine our relationship to the anger. We can ask ourselves: Do I want to be angry? Do I want to allow the anger to provoke and motivate me? If what we want is freedom, then our motivation for freedom has to be greater than our desire to remain angry.

This brings us to the A in the acronym: Attention. This involves being mindful of our anger by clearly seeing what is happening emotionally, physically, and mentally. What thoughts and beliefs come with the anger?  What is the subjective experience of being angry? How does it feel in the body? What is happening right now in the present? How much does past and future thinking affect the anger?

One of the important functions of mindfulness of anger is to learn how to allow the anger to exist without being caught up in it. This involves cultivating an awareness that provides either mental distance from the anger or a sense of spaciousness around it. It can help to learn how to feel the anger in the body while imagining the body as an open container in which our energies flow freely. We can feel the impulses to move or to speak without acting on them. Mindfully breathing while being aware of the anger in the body can be useful for giving “breathing room” to the anger. It can help us find a way to be aware of anger while being neither for it nor against it.

D stands for Dissipation. This is useful when we are so mad that we have trouble paying wise attention to our anger. Dissipation involves discharging the energy of anger so it doesn’t continue to harm us or cause us to act in ways we later regret. We can do this by going for a walk, exercising, taking a shower or a nap, or finding someone to talk to about the anger in a manner that calms us down. I have known people who’ve gone into the woods to be alone and then found a tree toward which they could safely express the anger.

Dissipation is not meant to be a way to forget the issue that caused the anger. Rather, it’s a way to diminish the intensity of the anger so we are not being pushed around by it. It’s also a way to become calm enough that we can Learn about the anger—which brings us to the L in M.A.D.L.E.S.S.

Anger presents us with an opportunity to learn something about ourselves. The presence of anger is a symptom of a disharmony or conflict that would be helpful to understand well. This can be done by reflecting carefully on what happened, including an honest consideration of our own contribution to getting worked up. For example, we can explore our own reactivity so that in the future we aren’t as easily triggered. Hopefully pride, embarrassment, resentment, or blame won’t interfere with the willingness to do this important investigation.

When learning about our reactivity in relation to anger, it’s helpful to consider that there are chain reactions within us. The anger may be the last link in a series of reactions, many of which have gone unrecognized. Three of the most common and underappreciated causes of anger are hurt, sadness, and fear. Taking the time to discover if and how these underlying emotions are present can change not only our relationship to the anger but also our relationship to the person or situation with whom we’re angry. Seeing how anger is a symptom of the underlying feelings can help us to address those root feelings without perpetuating a conflict or antagonism toward others.

When anger involves hostility, there are even deeper layers to uncover and explore. Perhaps the most important is selfishness. There is no hostility without some degree of self-absorption and ideas of “me, myself, and mine.” Listening to how often our speech and thoughts are self-referential can provide a useful way to understand the degree of our self-centeredness. Sometimes we may learn that anger arises when our self-identity is hurt or threatened. Hopefully becoming aware of our selfishness doesn’t become an additional reason to be angry. Such self-understanding is meant to be a step toward freedom and greater self-compassion.

The E in the acronym stands for Empathy—a quality that, while often absent when anger is present, can be evoked by searching for a fuller understanding of the people or situation we’re angry with. People seldom cause harm unless they are suffering themselves. Their meanness or negligence may have more to do with stresses they are living under than with the person they are hurting. Those who are ill, for instance, may anger easily because they have little tolerance for frustration. A bully may be smarting from an earlier humiliation. A boss may speak sharply because of the strain of being unable to care adequately for a dying parent. Or someone may exhibit anger as a way to compensate for insecurity.

Of course, understanding people’s inappropriate behavior is not the same as excusing it. Empathy might, however, allow us to soften our hard position toward them, perhaps even to let go of our anger. Realizing the other person has difficulties just as we do may help us to take their behavior less personally. And most important, this empathy may actually lead to a feeling of compassion: rather than lingering in our anger, we feel concern for the person’s well being. Working through conflict and disagreement becomes easier when there is empathy for the other party.

Related to empathy is Story, the first S in M.A.D.L.E.S.S. Anger often arises from an inaccurate story we tell ourselves. For instance, we might make up a story about another person’s intention. Or we imagine our anger will teach the other person a lesson, or that anger is necessary to prevent others from taking advantage of us. Investigating the story we have around the anger is a way to question what we may be holding on to and begin to consider if there are other ways of understanding.

One useful story to consider is that being angry may be causing us pain while having minimal or no effect on the other person. I have known people who did the cost/benefit analysis of anger and concluded that being mad was not in their best interest. They found that holding on to resentment was not worth the pain it caused them. Another useful story is to imagine that the circumstance that elicited the anger was designed as the perfect training opportunity for one’s path to freedom. The task then is to discover appropriate ways to take advantage of the opportunity.

If we find ourselves seeing conflict through the filter of a hard “me versus you” view, it might be interesting to find a realistic story that sees everyone as “us” or “we.” Is there an approach that considers what is best for everyone involved, not just “me”?

The last S in M.A.D.L.E.S.S. is Speak and Share. Overcoming anger is not a substitute for dealing with the conflicts we have. Rather, it opens the door to finding productive ways of discussing the conflicts with others, especially with those involved. Even if we have not overcome the anger, we can learn wise ways of speaking that don’t offend or threaten those we’re speaking to. Telling someone we are angry with them probably won’t create the best conditions for a fruitful conversation because the other person may feel criticized. If instead we explain how much we feel hurt by their behavior, the person may be given a chance to feel empathy for us and then be willing to have a constructive conversation.

And one of the most powerful ways of dealing with anger, especially when all else fails, is to share something with the person with whom you are angry—to give a gift. Gift giving can shift moods and relationships in many beneficial ways, some unexpected.

Learning to use the seven M.A.D.L.E.S.S. strategies helps us approach our anger with respect, as something that warrants our careful attention. These steps can become a path through anger to freedom. Not only does this path reduce the dangers we face; it also makes us safer to those around us.

—Gil Fronsdal

Buddhist practice involves engaging in actions on a path to freedom and awakening.  Action, in other words, is key. Reading about Buddhism is not the same as taking up the practice.  If we learn about Buddhist practice but don’t change any of our behaviors, we won’t experience the benefits of the practice.  Unless we actually take up the activity of mindfulness, mindfulness practice will have no role in our lives. If we decide we want to meditate but fail to actually do it, we won’t experience the fruits of meditation.  Without acting on our best values, it would be as if we didn’t have those values at all. Buddhist practice is founded on the principle that our actions are consequential and we can choose actions that lead to greater peace, freedom, and compassion.

Despite this emphasis on action, Buddhism does put primary emphasis on two forms of non-doing: non-craving and non-clinging.  The Buddhist path of liberation aims at the cessation of these two mental actions because craving and clinging are the conditions for the arising of dukkha, the Buddhist word for suffering, stress, and distress.  When craving and clinging have ceased, not only does dukkha not occur, it is replaced by a deeply meaningful, timeless peace.  And when we are no longer involved with craving and clinging, the heart has lots of space for wisdom and compassion.

Although it might sound paradoxical, non-action is also an important kind of action on the Buddhist path.  Just as it’s important to understand which actions place us on the path of freedom, it is equally important to understand when non-action is called for. For some people this may be more difficult than learning to act—perhaps because it’s easier to believe we’re making a difference if we’re doing something.  This difficulty may be particularly acute when it comes to our inner life, where the habits of behaving, thinking, and believing are often so deeply embedded that not only are they difficult to stop, they can seem natural or innate—part of our “hardware”—so that we don’t even recognize them as activities we have any choice over.  A lifetime of doing, fixing, arranging, and controlling can be difficult to put to rest.

One of the foundational Buddhist practices of non-action involves refraining from acting on unethical impulses.  The five ethical precepts are the most obvious examples of this practice.  The precepts involve a commitment to not act on our intentions to harm others, steal, lie, engage in sexual misconduct, or become intoxicated.  Commitment to these precepts is not always easy to adhere to because unethical impulses and intentions can be powerful. When they are, the non-action required may be quite active, requiring lots of inner strength to support our commitment to refrain.

Forbearance and patience are also important though less appreciated practices of non-action. Human life is filled with situations that frustrate our preferences, destabilize our equanimity, and evoke our ire.  Because it is rarely beneficial to act—or react—when we are frustrated, unstable, or angry, practicing patience may be the best approach to avoid making a difficult situation worse.  Such non-action is called forbearance when we also have to tolerate discomfort.

As most people who meditate know, meditation takes sustained effort. But from one perspective at least, it also involves a lot of non-action.  With the body resting still, we are not engaged in the physical activities that characterize much of our lives.  Similarly, by keeping our attention in the present moment, the meditative mind is not actively and intentionally involved in most forms of daily mental activity such as thinking about the past, the future, or fantasies.  When we’re engaged in meditation, being preoccupied with expectations and goals and evaluating our progress are all counterproductive.  So is criticizing ourselves for how “well” or “unwell” we’re meditating. Assuming too much active responsibility for our meditation can derail the relaxing, unwinding, and opening that support meditation practice. Mindfulness practitioners also learn that “selfing” is not helpful.  Concerns with self-identity, self-justification, and self-aversion, are mental activities that meditators eventually learn to refrain from in favor of experiencing more peace.

People who practice meditation discover ever-subtler forms of non-action.  For example, they learn that picking up a thought and getting involved with it is a mental action that isn’t necessary and needn’t be automatic. If the thought is not picked up, it can be left alone to fade away on its own. With mindfulness, we can develop the ability to choose which thoughts to engage with and which to avoid.  In this way, non-action is an effective antidote for neuroses that result from being overly involved with thoughts.  For some people, giving up the usual habits of mental activity is the most important lesson they can learn in meditation, partly because of the relief it brings and partly because it allows them to discover beneficial aspects of their inner life that had been hidden by all the doing.

Rather than directly solving our personal problems, non-action and meditation can help us to step away from our preoccupation with our problems, and this change in emphasis can sometimes make space for new solutions to arise or for the problem itself to diminish on its own.  Some problems are better dissolved than solved. Some issues are seen more clearly when we aren’t ruminating about them.

But non-action isn’t always easy. It can require a lot of self-discipline and willpower when we’re in the grip of desires and fears. Not acting on addictive drives may be as difficult as it is beneficial.  It can be hard to resist the impulse to stay up late watching TV or surfing the internet, but when we do, we can get a good night’s sleep and wake up ready for the workday ahead.  For those who have strong cravings for addictive substances, the pull to indulge can be very powerful, but when they refrain, they may be able to hold on to a job or a marriage.

Even in more mundane situations, non-action has benefits. For people who are always quick to speak, sometimes at the expense of interrupting others, practicing non-action in conversation can be helpful and instructive.  This might be as simple as waiting to speak until others are clearly finished. Or it can involve allowing moments of silence.  Not acting on every impulse to speak is a way to respect others.  It is also a way to allow for greater mindfulness of what’s happening in a conversation.

In lives of constant doing, periods of non-activity can serve as important intervals of rest, recovery, and discovery.  When we’re perpetually busy we can easily lose touch with ourselves, how we’re feeling, and even our most important values. Not doing may be just the medicine for relieving stress or providing time to process unresolved feelings.  Letting go of any attempt to accomplish or do anything but instead simply looking out the window or drinking a cup of tea may give the mind and heart a chance to reveal something important that has been overlooked or which we have not yet thought about.  Non-action can be the seedbed for creativity and healing.

Non-doing is also a significant way of learning about ourselves.  As we attempt to stop our usual activities, we discover the impulses that make stopping so difficult. In this way we learn where we are attached, and we learn about the emotions, impulses, and beliefs that keep us caught up.  When we refrain from doing something we habitually do, we might get to see for the first time the cost the activity has had—sometimes over a lifetime.  Finally, it may be only when we have ceased being active that we can see that we have more choices in how to act.

In deep meditation practice a time comes when it is helpful to let go of all intentional mental activity, even of mindfulness, concentration, and any other ways we are “meditating.”  This can provide a profound sense of well being that is not dependent on getting what we want, avoiding what we don’t want, or any other efforts to “do” anything.  It is a sense of well being that loosens the grip of our attachments.

It is possible to become free of clinging—this is what the path of freedom is all about.  To find this path each person must find the right balance of action and non-action.

—Gil Fronsdal

by: Gil Fronsdal

At the Insight Meditation Center, and soon, at the new Insight Retreat Center, we offer our residential retreats freely at no cost to anyone who participates. We do so because we believe Buddhist practice unfolds best in a field of generosity, gratitude, and goodwill. We also believe the freely given aspect of retreats exemplifies the remarkable inner freedom that Buddhism champions. By demonstrating an alternative to the dominant materialism and acquisitiveness of our culture, we hope these retreats inspire open- heartedness and open-handedness in the volunteers who put on the retreats, the donors who fund them, and the retreatants themselves.

When we offer a retreat we think of it as offering a gift to those who attend. This is one reason we use dana, the Buddhist word meaning “gift”, when we describe our retreats as dana retreats. The other reason we use dana to refer to our retreats is because all the support that allows us to put on a retreat has come as gifts. Dana Retreats are both gifts and gifted.

The staff and teachers who do the work of running the retreat do so as volunteers, providing the gift of their labor and time, so that others may experience the benefits retreats can provide. Because of this, retreatants often find themselves inspired knowing they are being cared for by the non-obligatory generosity of others. It is a kind of inspiration through which the benefits of retreat can sink in deeper.

Generosity, gratitude and goodwill thrive more easily when there is no pressure. We strive, therefore, to operate our retreat center well within our means. We are blessed by the many people who have been supporting our efforts.

In offering retreats freely we are happy that it removes a financial obstacle for some people. It frees us at IRC from having to administer scholarships and eliminates, for many people, the awkwardness of asking for a scholarship. Instead of having special scholarship fundraising efforts that benefit only some people, all our fundraising efforts go toward benefiting everyone who comes to retreats.

The majority of the financial support for our retreats and retreat teachers comes from the donations retreatants offer at the end of retreats. Retreatants are neither required to donate nor are there any dollar amounts suggested. But when they do make a donation their generosity is what allows others to participate in upcoming retreats. When people give knowing others will benefit, their giving can be a source of joy. Giving benefits the giver.

We could, of course, charge for our retreats. Not only is there is nothing inherently wrong with this, there is some wisdom in doing so. However, try this thought experiment: what difference would it make to you if you paid a required cost for a retreat prior to the retreat versus freely offering the same amount of money as a donation at the end?

While the clarity of knowing a set cost can have advantages, it doesn’t allow people to experience the joy of being generous. When people pay for something there is often a belief that they deserve something in return, an attitude that can get in the way of the personal work meditation requires. Because people don’t pay for our retreats, people are less likely to assign responsibility to others. Instead, people are more likely to feel gratitude that someone at a previous retreat offered the funds so they could attend the retreat.

Gratitude, in turn, can help people relax and trust, qualities that support meditation practice, and inspire people to do the inner work that meditation is about. Gratitude benefits the grateful.

It is a joy and privilege to support others to do the deep inner work that happens so well on retreats. Not only are we, at IMC, inspired to offer retreats, we are also inspired by the goodwill and generosity of the many people who support our retreat efforts. It takes a community to support awakening in each one of us.

by Andrea Fella

When we go on a residential retreat, we often hope that our meditation will result in a deepening of concentration: a quality of composure, collectedness, of settled attention.

But unfortunately, we can’t force concentration to happen! We can, however, support the conditions that allow it to arise. This simple fact has been really helpful for me to remember. In our meditation practice, we often bring along the cultural baggage of an “I’m going to do this” mentality, and sometimes that attitude can get in our way.

Concentration arises when awareness becomes continuous, whether continuous on a single experience like the breathing, or continuous on a flow of changing experience. We can’t force this continuity. We can, for short periods of time, forcefully hold our attention to experience, but this kind of attention usually results in brittle concentration that’s easily broken.

So a useful support for our practice is learning how to create a container that allows concentration to develop without being forced. This tends to result in a more stable concentration.

Relaxation is one of the important aspects of that container. Relaxation is actually one of the main supports for concentration! When I first started meditating, I thought that you had to force the mind to focus. The idea that one could relax to facilitate concentration did not penetrate my mind for quite a while. But relaxation is quite important.

Relaxation in meditation does not mean spacing out! The mind can be both relaxed and alert. Relaxation can take time. Different people need different amounts of time to allow the body and mind to relax in meditation. Relaxation of the body and relaxation of the mind are mutually supportive; when the body is relaxed, it’s much easier for the mind to relax.

We all need to find our own way to relax in meditation. For some people, starting with a relaxing body scan can be very helpful: consciously relaxing the muscles of the body in a systematic way. Once the body is relaxed, we see if we can relax the thinking mind. For others, meditating on ambient sounds can be helpful. Since we don’t control these sounds, turning our attention to them can sometimes allow the body and mind to relax very naturally.

Setting up a container of relaxed attention is an important framework for the meditation. Once you find a balance of relaxation and alertness, you can learn how to open this relaxed attention to experience: Either directing attention to a particular experience like the breathing, or becoming aware of a flow of experience: of seeing, smelling, hearing, tasting, touching, and emotions and thoughts.

When we can learn how to attend to our experience and not lose the relaxation, the mind becomes malleable, and we can skillfully choose to direct the attention to support a deepening of concentration. At other times, we can get out of our own way, and allow the meditation to take its own course very naturally.

I encourage you to take the time to explore what it means for you to have a relaxed attention: first of all to learn simply how to relax the body and mind, and then to learn what it means to apply this relaxation to an alert attending to your experience.

Compassion is inextricably linked to the Buddhist practice of liberation. It can be the motivation for this practice as well as the result.  As one’s inner freedom grows, one’s capacity for compassion increases; as one’s compassion increases, so does the importance of freedom. Liberation supports compassion and compassion supports liberation. They both benefit when they go hand in hand.

Compassion is a form of empathy and care that wishes for the alleviation of someone’s suffering. Known as karuna in Buddhism, this compassion is sometimes referred to as the “jewel in the lotus.” The lotus symbolizes the heart or mind that, with practice, blossoms into freedom, and the jewel represents the compassion appearing in the center of this blossom. The feeling of unfettered compassion is one of the most beautiful feelings a person can experience, providing valuable meaning and purpose to any human life.  Its presence is sometimes celebrated in Buddhism as an inner wealth and source of happiness.

Given its importance, Buddhism doesn’t leave the manifestation of compassion to chance. We don’t have to passively accept how often and how strongly we happen to experience it. Instead, it’s possible to actively develop our feelings of compassion and remove the obstacles for our feeling compassionate.

Because people sometimes confuse compassion with feelings of distress, it is helpful to clearly distinguish these two. Compassion doesn’t make us victims of suffering, whereas feeling distress on another’s behalf often does.  Learning how to see the suffering in the world without taking it on personally is very important; when we take it personally it is easy to become depressed or burdened.  We can avoid taking it as a personal burden or obligation if we learn to feel empathy without it touching our own fears, attachments, and perhaps unresolved grief.

This means that to feel greater compassion for others we need to understand our own suffering. Mindfulness practice is a great help in this.  With mindfulness, we can better see our suffering, its roots within us and the way to freedom from suffering; we can begin to cultivate both equanimity toward our suffering and release from its causes.

In this regard, it’s helpful to appreciate the great value in staying present, open, and mindful of suffering, both our own and that of others. We often need to give ourselves time to process difficult events and experiences and to let difficult emotions move through us.  When immediate action is not required, staying mindful of suffering doesn’t necessarily require a lot of wisdom or special techniques. It mostly takes patience and perseverance.  Relaxed mindfulness of our own suffering increases our ability to feel empathy for others’ difficulty and pain. It gives time for understanding and letting go to occur.  By practicing to be free of habitual reactivity, we take the time to see and feel more deeply what is happening.  This allows empathy to operate and for deeper responses to arise from within.  In this way, compassion is evoked rather than intentionally created.

Some people are reluctant to actively cultivate compassion because they worry that it will be insincerely or artificially contrived. Others fear that it will make them sentimentally naive or prevent them from seeing others clearly or realistically—perhaps out of concern they will be taken advantage of if they are compassionate to others.  Because efforts to be compassionate can be misguided, these concerns are worth keeping in mind.  However, as there are healthy ways to increase our compassion, the concerns don’t have to inhibit our efforts to do so.

One effective way of developing compassion is creating conditions that make it more likely to occur. That is, rather than directly making ourselves more compassionate, we can engage in activities that make it more likely to appear naturally.

A condition for compassion is a sense of safety.  It is easier to feel compassionate if we feel safe and very difficult when we don’t.  Therefore, to develop a confident and compassionate life, it can be helpful to find appropriate ways to feel safe.  Locking ourselves in our home may feel secure, but it’s not conducive to caring more about others. Learning how to be safe while in the world is more useful.  So is using mindfulness practice to address some of the anxieties and self-preoccupations that make us more likely to feel threatened.

It is important not to feel obligated to be compassionate as this often leads to self-criticism and stress that interferes with the arising of a natural compassion. Buddhism doesn’t require us to feel empathy and care for others. It does say, however, that we have the capacity to be compassionate and that doing so is a wonderful asset to ourselves, to others, and to the practice of freedom. The focus can be on how compassion enriches us, not depletes us.

Some people are hesitant to cultivate compassion because they worry they will have to give up too much of themselves as they help others.  Or they fear they will have to spend time with people they feel uncomfortable with. By knowing we are not obligated to be compassionate it may be easier for us to use our best wisdom and common sense to understand when acting on compassion is appropriate and when it is not.

Having confidence in our skill to respond to others’ suffering can also make it easier to feel compassion.  If we feel helpless, too uncomfortable, or even threatened by the troubles others are facing, awareness of their suffering may add to a sense of personal threat.  Developing skill has a lot to do with slow and patient training in such things as mindfulness, concentration, and letting go.

A way of strengthening compassion is to understand and then release what prevents it from arising.  For example, tension and stress limit compassion. When we’re stressed, we’re usually too preoccupied for empathy to operate. However, when we’re relaxed, our capacity for empathy increases. People who cultivate deep states of calm often find it naturally opens their hearts to great capacities of compassion and love.

Selfishness and self-preoccupation also obstruct compassion by blocking the attention and sensitivity that is needed for compassion to arise.  One benefit of letting go of selfishness is that compassion arises more easily.

We can also increase the amount of compassion we feel in our lives by setting the intention to do so. This can be quite specific, such as intending to be compassionate in a particular situation or toward a particular person—or it can be more general, as intending to be compassionate for this day or this week. When we consciously set this intention, we’re more likely to be reminded of and to think in terms of compassion. We will also notice compassionate thoughts and impulses that occur but which may otherwise be overshadowed by different desires and concerns.

Valuing compassion when it does appear can also strengthen it and make it more apt to arise in the future. We might consider and appreciate the benefits it can bring others as well as ourselves. Knowing the benefits can bring a sense happiness that in turn can make compassion more appealing.  Compassion can be more appealing when we have seen how it can be a source of happiness and how it can be intimately connected with our inner freedom.  Compassion for others can be a relief when we have spent too long pre-occupied with ourselves.

Another supportive condition is to deliberately reflect on compassion, perhaps stimulated by regularly reading and talking to others about it.  Whatever we think about regularly can become an inclination.  If we repeatedly think about love, kindness and caring for others, thoughts related to compassion are likely to appear more often.

Spending time with people who are compassionate can also help us.  The people we see frequently often have an influence on us. Seeing compassion in others can inspire it in ourselves.

Finally, understanding how compassion is a form of love helps us recognize what a jewel it truly is. When it arises from inner freedom it is then connected to other beautiful capacities of our hearts. It can appear together with well-being, calm, clarity, and peace.

There is, in fact, a great deal we can do to make compassion a more central part of our lives. As compassion grows, our self-centeredness and clinging decrease, and liberation becomes easier. As we become freer, compassion becomes more readily available.  To let compassion and liberation support each other is one of the most beautiful ways of training in the Buddhist path.  It can be our gift to the world.

—Gil Fronsdal

All of Buddhism flows from the Buddha’s awakening. This is so important that the title “Buddha”, meaning “One Who is Awake”, comes from bodhi, the Buddhist word for awakening. Often, because Buddhism is a path by which others may experience this awakening, this goal is what is emphasized in Buddhist teachings. In practice, however, for many Buddhist practitioners ‘going for refuge’ can involve a change of heart and mind as consequential as awakening itself.

There are two modern meanings of the English word ‘refuge’ that highlight the value of sarana, the Buddhist word for refuge. The first is a place where people can find safety from danger. The second is an area, like a wildlife refuge, set up to protect animals seen as valuable or endangered. In Buddhism, going for refuge includes both these meanings: it is a way of protecting ourselves from danger as well as safeguarding what is most valuable or beautiful within ourselves.

The practice of going for refuge is as ancient as Buddhism. It began with those people who, meeting the Buddha, were so moved that they spontaneously declared their dedication to him and his Dharma or teachings. In time, some of his disciples also experienced awakening. The community of those who awakened became the third refuge, the sangha. Together, the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha are known as the triple refuge. Because of the great value people find in them, these have come to be called the three treasures or the triple gem.

Sometimes the triple refuge refers to the historical Buddha, the Dharma he taught, and the Sangha of practitioners who have followed in his footsteps. This can be called the external refuge. Other times the triple refuge refers to inner qualities that give rise to a Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. As these are inner states or capacities we all have, this can be called the internal refuge.

The external refuge is important because it is difficult to rely completely on oneself. It is helpful to have the Buddha as an example of what is possible. Few people on their own can understand the full potential they have for spiritual transformation. Learning the Dharma teachings protects us from taking paths not helpful for our freedom and awakening. It can also save us from the difficulty of discovering for ourselves the practices and teachings that do help. Being connected to a Sangha is a way to learn from others who are on the path of practice.

The internal refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha is what the Buddha referred to when he encouraged people to take refuge in oneself. In the last days of his life he said, “You should live being your own refuge with no one else as your refuge. You should live with the Dharma as your refuge with no other refuge.” The first sentence suggests each person must walk the path of practice for oneself; no one can walk it for us. The second sentence suggests that the Dharma is found in oneself, in one’s own capacities.

The internal refuge in the Buddha is our capacity to experience the peace of non-harming and non-attachment. It is the possibility of uprooting the fear, hate, delusion and greed that is the source of our suffering. It is our own ability to mature spiritually. To take inner refuge in the Buddha is to have confidence in our potential for spiritual growth and transformation.

The internal refuge in the Dharma can be described in many ways. One powerful way is to understand it as having non-harming as one’s refuge. The Dharma is not an abstract principle or reality. It arises from how we are and what we do. When we dedicate our lives to not harming, the Dharma flows through our lives, allowing us to practice with the Buddha’s teachings and to live harmoniously.

The internal refuge in Sangha encompasses our own capacity for goodness, such as our kindness, compassion and generosity. The path of non-harming and awakening does not depend only on our efforts to practice; we also need to be supported by those wholesome feelings, motivations, and attitudes that we are capable of but often overlook. To take inner refuge in the Sangha is to have confidence in our inner capacity for goodness, even when it may not be evident.

In relying on the triple refuge a person understands that the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha are reliable. They can sustain us in difficult times. They encompass values, practices, insights, and realizations that not only protect us from self-destructive behaviors, they also help us to live wisely. They help bring forth the best qualities in our heart.

Some people look to the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha for refuge when what they had been relying on no longer supports them. Changes in work, finances, relationships, health, and society can be stressful when our well-being depends on these being a particular way. Sometimes when they realize that what they were expecting would bring them lasting happiness is not able to do so, when all else fails, they turn to taking refuge in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha.

Some people approach going for refuge as a firm, courageous, and enthusiastic commitment to a life based on spiritual freedom and compassion. It is a commitment that simultaneously energizes one to act in new ways while encouraging a deep relaxation. So many unnecessary things can be let go when one trusts that the Dharma path provides meaningful and profound support. Going for refuge in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha protects us from danger as much as it nourishes the growth of what is most beautiful within us.

Going for refuge is a choice to orient oneself by what the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha represent. It could be as simple as “I now orient my life to being very careful with my speech so that my speech is honest.” It could be the dedication, “I will try to live without harming others.” For some, it may involve a radical, even revolutionary, change in how they live their lives as they dedicate themselves to the path of liberation, wisdom and compassion over all other possible dedications.

—Gil Fronsdal

After a person has been meditating for some time, it’s important that he or she evaluate how the practice is developing. Is it working? Does it need adjustment? Is it the right practice to be doing? Can it be improved? Some of this evaluation can be done on one’s own, some with a teacher or with friends.

Taking a step back to assess our meditation shouldn’t be seen as a difficult task. We are evaluators by nature. We evaluate all the time, even if subconsciously. We decide what clothes to wear after considering a number of factors, not least of all the weather. An activity as simple as going for a walk requires a variety of considerations: How far will I walk? Does the walk require preparation? Do I need to pace myself if it is a long walk? What is the best route? Which are the best shoes?

In the same way, we can evaluate our practice. This should be done in a balanced way: not too little and not too much. Sometimes we don’t evaluate enough—maybe because of complacency, or excessive reliance on faith in the practice, or teachings that downplay the role of intelligent reflection. At other times, we might over-evaluate and tie ourselves up in knots. Over-evaluating can undermine our progress, like the farmer who pulls out a corn seedling to see if it’s growing yet. Imagine trying to learn to ride a bike while obsessing, “Am I doing this right? How do I look?” We may be looking for approval when we should be looking for balance, or expecting perfection when what is needed is lots of repeated practice.

Below is a useful list that can serve as a guide for evaluating your practice. While no two practitioners are exactly alike, these are general areas you can check that will give you a good idea where you are.

Motivation

First, ask yourself what your motivation is. Why are you practicing? Meditation practice flourishes when it is supported by clear intention.

There are many answers to this question. Because no one should decide for you what your goals are, it is useful to spend some time reflecting on this. I regularly advise people to discover what their deepest intention is. What do they really want? What is the heart’s deepest wish? While some people have worthwhile intentions for their meditation, the practice can have greater value when it is clearly connected to what is most important to us.

At times our intention is well-articulated; at other times it may not be obvious. Chances are you’ve experienced both of these ways. Sometimes, early on, I intuitively knew I wanted to sit, but I didn’t know why. I just knew there was a strong pull towards practice. At other times, the reason was clear: I knew I suffered and that I wanted to be free of my suffering. Sometimes I was aware of conventional suffering; sometimes, although free of conventional suffering, I had a clear insight that there was a deep, inner dissatisfaction, that suffering was at the core of the way my mind worked. I wanted to somehow find it, touch it, and understand it. Meditation was the only route I knew to reach this core, and I was highly motivated to do so.

Our motivation can be to awaken and cultivate beautiful qualities of the heart and mind—love, peace, courage, compassion, insight, understanding, the pursuit of the truth and liberation. Developing these qualities does not need to be for oneself. Sometimes my primary motivation to practice has been not for my own sake but for other people. In fact, I believe that if you do it only for yourself, you are unlikely to sustain your motivation over many years. A significant way to fuel meditation practice is to do it with the wish that it will somehow benefit others as well as yourself.

There are long-term and short-term motivations. Experiences of realization may be worthy long-term goals, but in the short term it can be useful to have modest aims such as cultivating small but noticeable improvements in concentration, non-distraction, compassion, or patience, as well as small, immediate movements toward letting go and experiencing freedom. I have found there is a beautiful way in which practicing with immediate, realistic goals allows for a steady maturing into some of the more developed areas of meditation practice.

It’s also important to know if your aspiration is appropriate for yourself given your present life situation. If for reasons of time, opportunities, abilities, or disposition you are not suited for the goals you have set for yourself, the primary result will be frustration, a state that is counterproductive to a practice meant to increase freedom from suffering. While it can be important to allow for grand aspirations – there is no need to be afraid of our heart’s deepest wish – it is important to consider which steps are realistic. For example, if our body carries a lot of tension, it may be important first to focus meditation on deep physical relaxation. Or, if our minds are easily distracted, it might be helpful to cultivate mental discipline before hoping for enlightenment.

Understand Yourself

There’s always more room for motivation, but does your aspirationg match who you are? You can read a book feeling convinced that you should do A, B, and C, but it may not suit your life at this time. Or maybe what your teacher is telling you is not a fit. For instance, if we should be focusing on our personal ethics, it may not be appropriate to spend a lot of time with a teaching that emphasizes ultimate liberation.

Do you know how you learn best? Some people learn best by reading, others by listening, others by watching, and others by doing. Some people do best when there is discipline and structure. Others learn best through playfulness, self-direction, or intuitive experimentation. Some people find reading and studying helpful; others may not. Extroverts might find it helpful to discuss their meditation with friends; introverts may find they work best when they have quiet time for personal reflection. By knowing yourself in these ways, it may be possible to find an approach to meditation that suits you. Since it is important not to tailor a meditation practice around personal preferences and attachments, it can be useful to ask a meditation teacher or another meditation practitioner for feedback about your approach to the practice.

Understanding the Instructions

You may be strongly motivated but not know how to do the practice. I meet plenty of meditators who are vague about what they are actually doing in meditation beyond relaxing and trying to have some focus. Some people know the basic instruction but not much about how to practice with the difficulties that may occur while attempting to act on that instruction. Some people who do mindfulness meditation may know how to be mindful of their breath or their body sensations but have little understanding about how to be mindful of emotions or mental states. In insight meditation there are whole series of instructions for working with the breath, body, emotions, thoughts (quality of mind), and intentions, as well as for walking meditation and mindful speaking. It is useful to know them all.

Do you understand what the relationship is between meditation practice and your daily life? Hopefully, for Buddhists, one’s whole life is one’s practice. Do you know how to live your daily life so that it supports your meditation? And do you know how to meditate so that it benefits your daily life? The poet Gary Snyder wrote:

All of us are apprenticed to the same teacher that the religious institutions originally worked with: reality. Reality insight says, “Master the 24 hours, do it well, without self-pity.” It is as hard to get the children herded into the carpool and down the road to the bus as it is to chant sutras in the Buddha hall on a cold morning. One move is not better than the other; each can be quite boring, and they both have the virtuous quality of repetition. Repetition and ritual and their good results come in many forms: changing the oil filter, wiping noses, going to meetings, picking up around the house, washing dishes, checking the dipstick. Don’t let yourself think these are distracting you from your more serious pursuits. Such a round of chores is not a set of difficulties we hope to escape from so that we may do our practice, which will put us on the path. It is our path.

You might understand the instructions but not know how to do the practice. For example, if your practice is to follow your breath, do you know how to do it? If it is done with striving, expectation, hesitation, or laziness, meditation probably won’t unfold well. One might not know what specifically to focus on when concentrating on the breath, so the mind never settles into concentration.

One’s attitude toward practice is very important. Is there adequate patience, equanimity, kindness, energy, and discipline? Do you understand the balance between having a goal in practice and at the same being present without being preoccupied with the goal?

Balance

Is your life balanced enough to support a regular and useful meditation practice? It can be counterproductive to add meditation to a life already packed with too many activities. Do you have a healthy balance between work and time off? Is there an appropriate balance between time with others and time alone? Do you get enough exercise so that a good sense of vitality supports your practice? Do you get enough sleep to stay awake during meditation? Some people need sleep more than meditation.

A number of factors need to come into balance during meditation itself. There is the balance between faith and wisdom or confidence and understanding. There is the balance between energy and concentration. Some classic teachings stress the importance of balancing the quieting forces of calm, concentration, and equanimity with the activating forces of investigation, effort, and joy.

The balance between the body and the mind are important. Ideally, meditation practice engages both. One of the very useful things to cultivate in meditation is a balanced meditation posture that allows for a dynamic interplay of physical relaxation with physical alertness or uprightness. It is possible to cultivate a body that is both soft and strong. It is lot easier to work with the mind in meditation if the body has been included from the start.

Obstacles

What are your obstacles in meditation practice? Where are the attachments? Where do you get stuck? Are there any regular patterns to the challenges you have in meditation?

One of the important ways to sharpen your meditation practice is to understand the difficulties in meditation. Among the many challenges are obsessive thinking, desires, aversions, sluggishness, restlessness, psychological or emotional issues, fear of altered states, boredom, complacency, and excessive striving. Attachment to pleasure or resistance to discomfort may also interfere.

Unethical or unskillful behavior can also be a significant obstacle to deeper states of meditation. Here’s a story that points to this idea:

A few years ago, at an alcohol treatment center in the suburbs of Chicago, staff members reported an intriguing discovery. Many of the counselors lived at some distance from the facility, each day commuting via a tollroad. Then one day the state of Illinois instituted an honor system in the toll collection booths in the area. No attendant, no barrier gate, just a basket into which motorists were expected to toss their coins. Staff at the treatment center made observations that soon added up to an axiom: counselors who don’t throw their money in, their patients don’t get well. As one counselor phrased it, “How can you instill honesty in a program if you’re not honest yourself? Honesty is indivisible.”

Another interesting thing to look at is how much self is involved when you practice. Self-judgment, self-criticism, self-image, self-definition are among the forms of self-concern that when used excessively undermine meditation practice. All meditation practices require that one relax self-preoccupation. Just like being too tense to ride a bike, when people are too concerned with themselves it can be very difficult for the mind to be soft enough to settle into meditation.

Every meditator has challenges. Rather then taking the obstacles as problems or as unfortunate distractions, a more useful attitude is to patiently and contentedly learn the skills and insights that can transform them into stepping stones along the path of practice. Every meditation tradition has its own approach to working with meditation obstacles. When one learns to recognize one’s own obstacles then one can ask a meditation teacher what her or his approach is.

Insight

An important part of practice is appreciating the insights that come with it. It’s not just a matter of becoming calm, but also understanding how your mind works, how your heart works, and what the causes and conditions of suffering and liberation are. As you look more deeply, can you see how you create a sense of self?

We often take the self for granted. But Buddhist practice shows us that much of what you think of as self is a construct, an activity shaped moment by moment. If you see this creative aspect, you’ll gain an insight that is freeing.

There’s also insight into beautiful states of mind: how compassion works and its value; lovingkindness and how to cultivate it. Insights into these states help to cultivate and strengthen them. One of the purposes in meeting with a teacher is not to discuss your difficulties but to discuss your understandings and insights. “This is the understanding I’ve come to. What do you think of that?”

The most important insight is to understand how clinging works—the nature of grasping and clinging in all its gross and subtle forms. All of Buddhism will open up for you if you understand the nature of clinging, what you cling to, and how to let go.

Understanding the Benefits of Practice

Sooner or later our practice brings benefits. Sometimes you have to be patient; sometimes, the benefits are immediate. Ideally, you see how even a single moment of meditation has immediate benefits. At the same time, I hope practitioners have some sense of how it can lead to deeper possibilities of liberation.

Over time, meditation should bring some clear benefits such as greater compassion, joy, ease, and self-understanding. Some people discover greater capacities for courage and resolve. Others feel increased appreciation and gratitude. And hopefully, one finds increased experiences of freedom. If after a of couple years of regular meditation practice one doesn’t experience any of these benefits, it is important to reevaluate what one is doing. Perhaps the criteria given above could help to discover some way that the meditation can be improved. Or perhaps it is time to discuss one’s meditation practice with a good teacher. However, sooner or later I hope that all meditators can become their own teachers. Learning to evaluate one’s own practice wisely is an important step toward such independence.

It can be easy to think Buddhist practice is individualistic and solitary.  Teachings on being mindful of oneself and taking responsibility for one’s actions can seem to emphasize a focus on oneself.  The practice of sitting in meditation with one’s eyes closed can also suggest that Buddhism is about separating oneself from society.  While certainly an important part of the practice is personal and inwardly focused, this is only a part of what Buddhist practice is about.  A much more significant part of the practice is interpersonal; it concerns the rich world of our relationships with others.  In fact, the interpersonal teachings and practices of Buddhism create the context and the foundation for the inner, personal practices such as meditation.

Though many people don’t start Buddhist practice this way, traditionally it is said to begin with creating healthy relationships with others.  This part of the path is usually called training in sila or virtue.  Sila is concerned with all aspects of our everyday behavior, especially in the ways that our actions involve relating with others.  It is about having all our relationships be helpful and supportive for others as well as for ourselves.  In some descriptions of the Buddhist path, sila begins with the practice of generosity.  Done wisely, practicing generosity creates a healthy relationship between the giver and receiver.  As this is at the beginning of the Buddhist path, it underscores that our social interactions are an important part of Buddhism.

The practice of living by the precepts, as one aspect of sila, is also about our interpersonal relationships.  It is the practice of training to develop caring, compassionate relationships with others rather than harmful ones, generous ones rather than greedy ones, honest ones rather than dishonest ones.

The Buddhist emphasis on cultivating loving kindness, compassion, appreciative joy, and equanimity includes developing caring and empathic attitudes toward others.  With practice, these attitudes become the orientation for everything we do and the very motivation for doing the more solitary practices.

An important part of the interpersonal aspect of Buddhist practice is having spiritual friendships.  The Buddha emphasized this when he said that the precursor for the Eight Fold Path is having good spiritual friends (kalyana mitta).  These are the people with whom we share the practice and who support us in the practice.  While it includes our peers on the path, the term kalyana mitta is also a common expression for a Buddhist teacher in our Theravada Buddhist tradition.  For us, a teacher is more a friend than a guru, more a supporter than an authority figure.

The idea that good friendships are the precursor for the path of practice was particularly important in the pre-literate times of the Buddha.  Since there were no books that would introduce people to the teachings and practice, the introduction always came in person, through a “good spiritual friend.”  In our times, the easy availability of books on Buddhism makes it possible for people to begin their practice without personal contact with another person.  While this is certainly a useful development, it is easy to lose sight of the important context that direct human relationships create in learning about the Buddhist teachings and practice.

It can be very helpful to have examples of other people’s practice.  Undoubtedly, some people can learn to play a musical instrument through instructions in a book.  But to watch how others play the instrument can enhance their learning.  In the same way, seeing people demonstrate how Buddhist teachings can be practiced and expressed can provide important lessons for how we can practice.

Friends on the path also provide support and encouragement.  Without practice friends, one can feel isolated and even a bit odd in one’s community for being the only person who meditates, or doesn’t gossip, or doesn’t drink alcohol.  Knowing others who practice and who share the same values can sometimes make the difference between practicing and not practicing.

Good friends are important sources of feedback.  This can happen gradually as we see ourselves mirrored by others.  Our mindlessness can be seen more clearly if we are around mindful people.  Our lack of ethical behavior can be highlighted by being with more ethical people.  Our conceit about our understanding or our practice can become clear when we are with people who hold themselves lightly or who show no support or interest in our conceit.

Feedback can also occur explicitly.  By developing friendships we can create the trust and goodwill that allows for frank discussions about our behavior, our practice, and our understanding.  It is quite common for others to see things about ourselves that we don’t see.  Having these things pointed out can be extremely helpful.  The longer the friendship, the better our friend knows us and so the more likely the feedback is well informed.

Dharma friendships are also wonderful places to have Dharma discussions.  To explore the teachings and our experiences in practice through conversations with others can deepen our understanding in many ways.  It can bring us new perspectives, questions and areas for further investigation.  To have these discussions with people who know us well adds to the value of these conversations.

Often enough it is not easy to create good spiritual friendships.  It requires both patience and deliberate effort.  Probably the single most helpful way to create friendships is to be friendly.  Try to cultivate some authentic acceptance, warmth, interest, and caring for others.  Become a good listener, and when asked, be willing to reveal yourself to others.  Spiritual friendships grow with honesty.  If we pretend to be “spiritual” or if we hide what we are really feeling or thinking, real friendship can’t grow.  If we share how we are practicing, including both our successes and our shortcomings, then people will have a better chance of getting to know who we are.

It is interesting that the near enemy of friendship is flattery.  In Buddhism, a near enemy of an ideal is that which looks like the ideal but actually detracts from it.  A flatterer can seem like a friend but actually is undermining the possibility of a real friendship.  Honesty nourishes friendship, undeserved praise does not.

Friends create an important context for any individual’s Buddhist practice.  Hopefully, friendship shows that we don’t just practice for ourselves.  We also practice with and for our friends, community and others.  Friendships also teach us that the fruits of practice are not something we keep for ourselves.  They are something that we share.  We can be good friends to others. As we become freer we are thereby granting greater freedom to others, at least in terms of liberating them from having to contend with our greed, hatred, and prejudices.  Mindfulness, love, and the path of practice can be the channels through which we have meaningful relationships with others. And meaningful relationships, in turn, support us on the path to greater mindfulness, love and awakening.  It is my hope that we all cultivate friendships that support us in our practice.

—Gil Fronsdal

A person who was lost in the jungle may not have learned the way out if he or she accidentally stumbles out. Lost in the jungle again, the person may be no wiser about how to get free. On the other hand, if a lost person carefully studies the jungle and learns the way out, he or she may never become lost in that jungle again. The person may even become a guide helping others out.

The Buddha didn’t stumble out of the jungle of suffering; he learned the skills, signposts, and path that led out. He spent many years, in many ways, teaching the way to freedom. In contrast, he said little about what the experience of freedom actually is. He focused mostly on how one becomes free and what one becomes free from or what one no longer experiences. Perhaps freedom cannot be described as any particular experience. It is like two people who are lost in the jungle together for a long time. When they both find their way out, they both experience the same freedom from the jungle. However, what they do and experience once out of the jungle may be very different from each other. What they may have in common is knowing how to avoid getting lost again, and they may both have strong confidence in the path out of the jungle.

One of the useful descriptions the Buddha gave for the way out of suffering is the twelve steps of what is called “Liberative Dependent Origination” (LDO). These steps are successive mental states, each dependent on the presence of the preceding one, which create the conditions for not only becoming free, but for really knowing one is free. The Liberative Dependent Origination sequence is offered in contrast to the more commonly taught twelve-fold dependent origination sequence that describes the main causal conditions that lead to suffering.

Just as one must first know oneself to be lost in order to search for a way out of the jungle, so one must know one is suffering in order to start a process that frees one from that suffering. Because this recognition is so important, the sequence of Liberative Dependent Origination begins with an honest confrontation with our suffering. Many alternative descriptions other than ‘suffering’ can be used for what is understood in this first, underappreciated step. For some, it may take the form of know- ing oneself to be ignorant, that one doesn’t yet know what it takes to be liberated from one’s distress. For others it might be an understanding of how the way one has been living doesn’t really work.

Between knowing one is suffering and starting to walk a path to freedom there needs to be adequate confidence in the path and in one’s capacity to walk it. Ignorance or doubt about the path can lead to inaction or to other pursuits. While even a modest amount of confidence can be enough to start, the stronger the confidence, the greater resolve one can have for engaging in the process of liberation. Dependent on confidence, the second step in the LDO, there can arise delight, the third step.This is gladness in knowing there is a path one has the capacity to discover and follow.

The fourth step is a joy that depends on the delight of the previous step. It is a joy that arises in direct proportion to how enthusiastically absorbed one is in practices that are a part of the path to freedom. Particularly important is meditative joy, since the next four steps are usually developed most fully in meditation practice.

Confidence, delight, and joy, by dispelling anxiety and agitation, help a person become tranquil, which is the fifth step. When the excitation of meditative joy diminishes while its clarity and concentration remain, this tranquility becomes a pervasive calm and stillness. Since the exuberance of joy can be quite attractive and meaningful, it sometimes takes a long time before a person feels ready to move on to more tranquil states.

Tranquility makes possible the arising of happiness, the sixth step in the LDO. This happiness is a broad sense of well-being which is calmer and more satisfying than joy.

This well-being is important for the development of concentration, the seventh step. This is because concentration depends on lessening agitation while the mind becomes unified in its ability to stay focused. As tranquility reduces agitation, happiness supports the unification.

The eighth step is the ‘knowledge-and-vision-of-things-as-they-are.’ This involves profound and direct insight into the transient and impersonal aspect of our experiences and how unsatisfactory it is to cling to any of it. It can also involve a clear realization of the Four Noble Truths. Sometimes at this stage there can be a complete, but temporary release of all grasping. This experience is quite important because it shows that liberation is possible and worthwhile. Perhaps it is like climbing a hill- top where, standing above the jungle, one can see the end of the jungle in the distance. Though one must descend again into the jungle, one is now certain about the direction to be taken. Experiencing a thorough, but temporary, release from clinging strengthens confidence, which in turn helps develop the succeeding steps of Liberative Dependent Origination.

Dependent on having seen things-as-they-are, there follows a grow- ing disillusionment with the idea that there is anything worth clinging to. This in turn encourages a gradual weakening of the tendency to cling. In the sequence of LDO this disillusionment is called ‘disenchantment’ and the weakening of clinging is called ‘dispassion.’ These two are the ninth and tenth steps in LDO. As the thinning of the trees indicates one is coming to the edge of the jungle, so with the weakening of clinging a practitioner can have a clear sense that freedom is near by.

When grasping has weakened enough, a time comes when it is fully dropped. This eleventh step in the twelve-fold sequence is what the Buddha called Liberation. Since suffering depends on clinging, with the cessation of clinging, one is liberated from both clinging and suffering.

The final step in LDO is to understand what forms of clinging have come to an end with the experience of liberation. For the Buddha, liberation is not enough. It is important to understand what has changed when one is liberated. In part, this is a safeguard against believing one is enlightened when one isn’t. The final step in the awakening process is not described as any particular state—and certainly not as some form of annihilation or void. Rather the sequence ends with knowledge. One knows through personal experience the path that led to this freedom. A person who walks a path without understanding this may not be able to teach it to others.

The twelve-fold steps of LDO are not so much a step-by-step approach to Buddhist practice as they are a description of how the fruits of the practice lead naturally all the way to liberation. It is a reminder that the path to liberation is a gradual progression that unfolds if one can use the recognition of suffering as an inspiration to develop confidence and skill in Dharma practice. Even more important, it teaches that liberation is not a mysterious process dependent on forces outside of our own heart and mind. The Buddhist path clearly depends on our own efforts to cultivate personal qualities that enable deep insight and release. While the right conditions have to be in place for liberation to occur, when one cultivates those conditions, a time comes when self-effort can fall away and the Dharma can flower in our hearts and minds.

— Gil Fronsdal

Suffering → Confidence → Delight → Joy → Tranquility → Happiness → Concentration → Seeing things as they are → Disenchantment → Dispassion → Liberation → Knowledge

Deep, indeed is this dependent origination. It is through not understanding and penetrating it that people become entangled like a tangled ball of threads.

—The Buddha (Long Discourse No. 15)

When the Buddha awakened, he awakened to something. With the stilling of his mind and the dropping of his attachments, he awoke to Dependent Origination and attained liberation. This insight is the foundation of everything else he subsequently taught.

The principle of Dependent Origination is that when anything arises dependent on particular conditions, it ceases with the ceasing of those conditions. So, for example, rain is dependent on clouds; when the clouds vanish, the rain stops. The Buddha used the principle of Dependent Origination to understand human suffering and how to bring that suffering to an end. According to the principle, if suffering depends on some thing, and that thing is eliminated, the suffering will come to an end. With his awakening, the Buddha understood the causes and conditions of suffering and how to remove them. It is with this insight that the Buddha could then teach a path to liberation.

By understanding the concept of Dependent Origination, the Buddha’s teachings become clear. By personally seeing Dependent Origination, the Buddha’s teachings become liberating. The importance of this insight is emphasized in the ancient saying, “One who sees Dependent Origination sees the Dhamma; one who sees the Dhamma, sees Dependent Origination.”

The Buddha’s first, succinct way of teaching Dependent Origination was with four Noble Truths which explain the cause of suffering and the conditions required for the ceasing of this cause. The first truth concerns knowing when suffering is occurring. The second truth is understanding craving as the cause of suffering. The third points to the possibility of ending that suffering. And the fourth truth describes the path to do this.

When suffering seems impenetrable and the Four Noble Truths seem too simple for penetrating the complex tangle that gives rise to the suffering, it can be useful to investigate further with the Buddha’s teaching known as the Twelve-Fold Dependent Origination. This teaching lists a sequence of twelve psycho-physical processes where each process is presented as a necessary condition for the arising of the next process. When suffering, the final link, is seen as a condition for ignorance, the first link, the twelve links are often depicted as a circle. The image of a circle is useful in that it suggests that when the processes are not interrupted, people can all too easily loop around and around in cycles of suffering.

However, all twelve processes seldom operate in a neat twelve-step sequence. More often they all also interact and shape one another in complicated ways. Instead of a circle, it might be useful to see each as different threads of a matted ball of threads. The task of mindful investigation is to discover some of the individual threads and the connections between them. It then becomes possible to begin unraveling the tangled ball of suffering. Because of the way they are all intertwined, loosening any one thread loosens the rest.

Beginning with ignorance, the first seven processes in the twelve-fold list are the conditions that give rise to craving, which is the eighth item on the list as well as the second Noble Truth. The ninth to eleventh processes are those that build on craving to create the necessary conditions for suffering, which is the twelfth process in the sequence of Dependent Origination and the first of the Noble Truths.

Ignorance, as the first step in the sequence, refers specifically to “ignoring”, or at least not understanding, our experience through the framework of the Four Noble Truths. When we are ignorant of our suffering or its cause, it is easy to look for happiness and peace in the wrong places. For example, pleasure can be mistaken for happiness; clinging and aversion can be assumed to be helpful strategies; and depending on a self-identity can be seen as important. One of the most significant symptoms of ignorance is believing that our psychological suffering is caused by external events. The teaching on Dependent Origination acts as a corrective to this by pointing to the role that our inner mental life has in suffering.

Because ignorance is the first process in the Twelve-fold Dependent Origination, all the subsequent processes are dependent on it. In other words, ignorance runs through the other eleven processes. It is said, therefore, that applying the Four Noble Truths to any of the twelve processes can untangle the ball of suffering.

Ignorance has consequences when it is the basis for how we react to the world. Ignorant reactions shape or “form” us, and this is why the second step in the twelve-fold cycle is called “formations“. Most prominent are the array of intentions and dispositions that arise dependent on ignorance. They can include such mental reactions as anger when a craving is frustrated, or anxiety when we are attached to a particular self-identity. Some of these may be momentary intentions; others may be pervasive motivations that shape both our personality and how we experience the world.

The third step, usually called ‘consciousness‘, consists of the mental processes by which we cognize or pay attention to things – processes influenced by our dispositions and conditioning. How we are mentally disposed can shape how we pay attention and what we pay attention to. Our awareness is seldom unbiased. When connected to suffering, our awareness is selective and colored by our ignorant dispositions.

How we pay attention has an influence on how we experience our ‘body and mind‘, the fourth step. So, for example, if I get angry at my suffering, this anger activates my body and mind in particular ways: I tense up, get hot, and become impatient. In addition, I might focus my attention so that I mostly notice what I don’t like about my body and mind.

The first four processes are powerful conditions for how we use our ‘senses‘, the fifth step in the sequence. For example, if the first four links are shaped by selfishness, then we may use our senses to notice only things that have an impact on our self-centeredness. If they are shaped by anger then that may filter how we see, hear, smell, taste, and touch the external world or how we ‘perceive‘ our inner world.

How the senses are directed conditions how we directly experience the world. Sixth in the sequence is ‘contact‘, the meeting of our senses with the outside world or with thoughts and feelings. People often assume that the world they experience through the senses is how the world actually is. The teaching on dependent origination suggests that when we suffer, we do not perceive accurately and the way our senses connect to the world is biased.

The seventh link is the ‘feeling tone‘ associated with any sense contact or perception. It is the seemingly impartial way in which we experience things as pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. However, the feeling tones that are part of the twelve-fold sequence are influenced by the preceding six links and are therefore not necessarily objective.

Feeling tone is a condition for the arising of ‘craving‘, the eighth link in the dependent origination of suffering. In other words, craving is a reaction to feeling tone. It can be quite humbling to discover how many of our desires, even seemingly sophisticated ones, are responses to feelings of pleasantness and unpleasantness.

Craving is a necessary condition for ‘grasping‘, the ninth process. We are not going to cling to something unless we crave it.

The tenth step, ‘becoming‘ refers to the creation of states of being or states of mind based on grasping. It is called ‘becoming‘ because it is an ongoing process of coming into being. If I grasp onto anger, it is more than a passing reaction, it can ‘become’ a habitual response, or even a pervasive and enduring mood.

Based on my ongoing anger, I may define myself by it: ‘I am an angry person.’ Giving birth to an identity based on our state of being is the eleventh process of Dependent Origination, and is called ‘birth‘. A fixed identity is a very significant condition for suffering because of all the expectation, assertion, disappointment, fear, and anger that can be triggered as we try to support or defend ideas we hold about ourselves.

The combined working of the first eleven processes is the dependent condition for suffering, the final process in the sequence. In looking carefully at suffering it is important to remember we are always investigating the particular form it is taking. The word ‘suffering‘ is an abstraction and abstractions are difficult to explore. As a reminder to look into the particular expressions, the twelfth link has a long name: “aging, death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair.”

Each link is dependent on all the preceding links. This means that if a particular step is removed, the subsequent links cannot occur. If one of the links is occurring, it will cease when any of the earlier processes are stopped.

As we explore the tangled ball of our suffering, some threads are easier to discover than others and some can be addressed more directly. Using the framework of the Four Noble Truths helps untangle ignorance; insight into how our dispositions shape our experience can help us see more clearly; learning to not react to the feeling tones of experience lessens craving; not acting on cravings, lessens grasping which, in turn, lessens becoming. When the tangle of suffering is tightly woven, all these approaches may be needed. When the threads have become loose enough, a gentle tug on one strand may be all that is needed for the whole ball to unravel. And when suffering is untangled, what’s left is profound and peaceful. What’s left is not dependent on anything.

—Gil Fronsdal

(1) Ignorance → (2) Formation → (3) Consciousness → (4) Body & Mind → (5) Senses → (6) Contact → (7) Feeling Tone → (8) Craving → (9) Grasping → (10) Becoming → (11) Birth → (12) Suffering