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The great value of mindfulness practice can be found in the ordinary activities of daily life. It is not necessary to engage in extraordinary pursuits to realize the full depth and breadth of Buddhist practice. Listening is one of the ordinary, daily activities that can serve as a powerful vehicle for cultivating mindfulness, insight, and freedom. Dharma practice is to develop the ability to “see clearly;” listening well is a way to do this. Through listening we can better appreciate what others are saying and gain greater self-understanding.

Imagine yourself standing in front of a great wall stretching far to the right and far to the left. In the middle is a closed door.  You open the door, and step through. On the other side of the wall is a vast sky and a great panorama of mountains and valleys receding toward a far distant horizon. From this view you appreciate the great vastness and spaciousness of the world. Then you turn around and step back through the door to the other side of the wall. Standing on the other side you see that here is a vista of a vast ocean sprinkled with beautiful islands. In fact, on either side of the door there is an equally wide, large world to be explored and studied. Listening can be understood as the door between two vast worlds, the world outside of yourself and the world inside yourself. The first is what your ears can hear.  The second is what is going on in your body, mind, and heart as you listen. To practice mindful listening is to reside in the doorway between these two worlds so you can be attentive and wise in both.

To listen well, it is helpful to distinguish listening from hearing.  Listening is an active, deliberate activity while hearing doesn’t require any effort or intention. With a loud sound, no effort is needed to hear it. However, one might need to intentionally listen to identify the source of the sound. If we were to mime someone listening we might cup a hand behind one ear and lean in the direction of a sound. It is much more difficult to mime ‘hearing’ because hearing is not an activity we do, it is a mode of receptivity to whatever sounds that might occur. By having a clear distinction between listening and hearing we can then choose one over the other. Sometimes, it can be deeply relaxing to make no effort to listen except to rest in the hearing, especially with meditation, music, or sounds of nature. More often in daily life however, we either listen actively or not very well, for example, when we don’t fully listen to what others are saying.

One form of active listening is to listen mindfully, that is, with clear attention and interest. Listening mindfully is to intentionally bring greater awareness to the experience of listening rather than listening habitually or perhaps half-heartedly. To make it a mindfulness practice we also give priority to listening for the purpose of listening rather than letting another purpose dominate. We attend to listening in such a way that we both listen better and are aware of our attitude while listening.

The better your understanding of what goes on within you as you listen, the better you can understand the obstruction to listening well and what you can do to listen more mindfully.  Mindful listening requires a willingness to put aside, at least temporarily, the agendas, preferences, opinions, and judgments that interfere with being able to listen well. At the same time, it can involve actively noticing the internal impact and response you have to what is heard. Then, you can choose to keep your focus on the different dimensions of what you listening to rather than easily wandering off in thought. Not only can you listen more carefully to the content of what someone is saying, you can notice their facial expressions, tone of voice, posture, and attitidude.

Without mindfulness, listening can sometimes be done with eagerness—even impatience—for someone who is talking to finish. An internal pressure to speak, or having anticipatory thoughts, can interfere with our full listening to what others are saying. In contrast, to listen mindfully is to be generous with our time; to live in the flow of time, each thing allowed its own time.

You know you are listening mindfully when you continue to listen after someone has stopped speaking. Listen to the silence. Or let the receptivity with which you listened become an additional occasion to notice what is happening within yourself or with the person to whom you are listening. Such a pause—even a two second pause—gives you time to digest what was said. It is also a time to discover what you want to say before you actually say it. Such self-awareness can protect you from saying things you later regret. The pause may also give others a chance to discover what is going on in their own minds and bodies.   

Mindful listening is embodied listening. This means that you don’t just listen with your ears. You can feel the physical impact of what you hear. What sensations arise in the body in response to what is heard? What parts of your body get energized in the hearing? What gets tense, what relaxes?

Embodied listening includes assuming a posture that supports better listening. Perhaps sitting up straighter with the chest open. Perhaps turning toward the person who is speaking.  It can be helpful to assume a posture or a gesture that indicates you are listening.  Perhaps leaning forward slightly. Or nodding your head to the points the person is making. By being actively involved in listening we listen better. It also helps the speaker to know we are really listening.

A famous story from the Ramayana, an epic poem in the Hindu tradition, illustrates the power of careful listening. The story tells of Rama walking in the forest with some companions.  When Rama starts hearing the faint whisper of a voice, he asks his companions if they can hear it. They say, “No.” Rama begins to walk toward the whisper.  As he gets closer he recognizes it is his name that is being spoken, “Rama…Rama.”  As the voice becomes louder, his friends still say they can’t hear it. Finally Rama comes to a large boulder from which the sound comes. He then places his two hands gently on the boulder. At this point the rock breaks open and inside is a person who has been stuck in the rock through a magic spell. By listening to the whisper he was able to discover what was locked up and then release it.

In this way, to listen mindfully is to give care in order to hear the faint whispers inside others and ourselves and to discover the significant thoughts, feelings, and desires that may be shy or overlooked. Once discovered, the quiet whispers then have the opportunity to be heard.

Listening—as all forms of active attention—is an intentional act, and as such is connected to our desires, emotions, attitudes, values, and preferences. Because of this connection it can be helpful to use the following questions to help explore your listening. You might take your time with each question, perhaps giving yourself a week to reflect on it before exploring the next one.

• What purpose motivates your listening?
• What concerns and desires influence your listening?
• Are there emotions coloring what you hear?
• How interested and attentive are you to what you’re listening to?
• When someone is speaking, how much are you listening to the person and how much are you engaged in your own thoughts?
• What expectations do you have when you listen?
• In different situations, you will have different answers to these questions. The answers may point to how to listen more attentively, with greater wisdom.

Mindful listening is a great way to cultivate greater mindfulness in daily life. Listening is always a present moment activity; when we listen we are present. When we listen actively and receptively we are developing the faculties needed for the practice of mindfulness. Practicing mindful listening is a foundation for the more difficult task of speaking mindfully. Until we have a strong capacity to stay mindful while we speak, it is good to remember the saying that “we have two ears and one mouth so we can listen more than we speak.”   

—Gil Fronsdal

Anyone practicing mindfulness knows there are forces in the mind that can make it difficult to stay attentive to one’s present moment experience. Ranging from weak to very powerful, these forces hamper our ability to remain mindful, develop concentration and have clear insight. They pull our attention away from our efforts to meditate. Even with the best of intentions to stay focused, these forces can propel us into the world of pre-occupation and distracted thought.

Rather than reacting to these difficulties as being “bad,” “distractions,” or personal failings, it is important to be mindful of them. In that they are happening in the present, they can be a basis for cultivating greater awareness and wisdom. They can become part of the path of practice, rather than a detour.

It is important to investigate the forces of distraction and agitation carefully to understand their nature and how they work. It is easier to find freedom from something when we know it thoroughly. Ancient Buddhist stories tell of Mara, the Buddhist personification of temptation and distraction, approaching the Buddha. Each time Mara arrives, the Buddha simply says, “Mara, I see you,” and Mara flees. Recognizing Mara was effective in bringing freedom from Mara.

Of the many forces of distraction, five are traditionally identified as particularly important for people practicing Buddhist mindfulness and meditation. Known as the five hindrances, they are workings of the mind that can hinder our ability to see clearly and our capacity to develop a stable, concentrated mind. The hindrances are sensual desire; ill will; sloth and torpor; restlessness and worry and doubt.

As you can see, the list is actually made up of seven factors, but four are always paired. One explanation for the paired items is that they represent closely related physical and mental factors.

The first two hindrances are related by being opposite qualities. Desire and ill will are both forms of wanting, albeit in opposing ways. Desire wants to have something, whereas ill will wants to push something way. The third and fourth hindrances are similarly seen as opposing tendencies. They both involve levels of energy or vitality. Sloth and torpor are low energy states while restlessness and worry are high energy states.

The fifth hindrance, doubt, is not specifically connected with any of the other hindrances or distinguished into physical and mental aspects. This is because doubt is often entwined with any combination of the other hindrances and can cast its influence in many ways on our whole being.

The wisdom needed for working with the hindrances is discovered through mindfulness of them. This wisdom is acquired slowly, requiring much patience. It also requires an interest in studying the hindrances as they appear. Reading about the hindrances cannot substitute for the time and effort needed to understand how the hindrances operate. As each person has his or her own path through the hindrances, you will have to find yours.

It is best to respect the hindrances and their power. This is not to acquiesce to them, but rather it is a way to overcome their sway. Through developing one’s mindfulness, the hindrances begin to lose their power. With the growth of wisdom, equanimity, and concentration it is possible to be free from their influence.

It is also possible to be free of the hindrances themselves; they do not have to be present. One’s mind can be hindrance-free. Without the obscurations of the hindrances, such a mind can become clear, perhaps like a translucent pond in which everything is seen clearly.

Buddhism recognizes a hindrance-free mind as a beautiful mind. In fact, for some people this mind is one of the most beautiful experiences they know. Because all other forms of beauty are perceived through the mind, when the mind is clear and peaceful, what we perceive will be perceived within this clarity and peace. It is like having the light turned on after living in the dark for a long time: the marvel of sight becomes more wonderful than whatever is seen.

On the path to freedom, the primary function of a hindrance-free mind is to teach us about non-clinging. When the hindrances hinder it is because we are clinging to something. When the hindrances are absent we are then free of their accompanying clinging. By seeing the difference between clinging and non-clinging we learn that freedom is found in non-clinging. When this lesson is learned well, we understand that clarity, peace, beauty and other experiences on the path to freedom are not the point of the path; they are stepping-stones to more and more thorough degrees of freedom from attachment.

The milestones along this path are measured by release from attachments. In relationship to the hindrances this may begin with letting go of anger, discouragement, or dismay that they are present. A further step is giving up judging oneself negatively because of the hindrances. Another signpost is letting go of any belief that justifies the importance of the hindrances. The most significant milestones is being released, even temporarily, from the hindrances themselves.

With a strong enough experience of non-clinging we come to a fork in our path. One direction leads to more clinging, the other to freedom. As practice becomes deeper the path of freedom becomes more obvious. At some point it becomes clearly the easier path. When we are new to practice it is clinging that may be easiest, one day it becomes non-clinging. Freedom supports further freedom. It empties the mind of obstructions and agitation until, in the beauty of the mind’s clarity, we are free of ourselves.

This article is an excerpt from Gil’s new book, Unhindered: A Mindful Path Through the Five Hindrances, which can be purchased on Amazon.com. Click through the Recommended Books page on our website when making a purchase on Amazon, and help support IMC.

Buddhism teaches that personal practice and safeguarding our environment are closely connected. This is because both of these endeavors ask us to overcome the forces of greed, hate, and delusion. The intimate relationship between the world and ourselves means that when we properly care for ourselves we will care for the world, and when we do what’s best for the world, we benefit ourselves.

After his awakening, which took place as he sat outdoors underneath a tree, the Buddha continued to live and meditate in forests throughout his life. He explained that he did this for his own benefit and out of compassion for future generations. Because nature is a tremendous support for the path of liberation, the Buddha instructed his followers to meditate in nature.

Practicing mindfulness outdoors in nature cultivates a greater appreciation of the natural world. Building on this appreciation, a healthy respect for nature can come from understanding how dependent our lives are on the natural environment and how easily human activity can damage this support system. When the Buddha was alive, human impact on the natural world was evident mainly on a small, local scale. Today, the evidence of this interconnectedness is global—for instance, the greenhouse gases released through human activity in some parts of the world affect climates across the planet.

There’s an ancient Buddhist tale that tells of a mythic tree whose vast canopy provides shade and whose abundant fruit can be harvested freely by anyone. But when a greedy person stuffs himself with fruit and then breaks off one of the branches, the tree stops bearing fruit.

Another early Buddhist myth depicts an ideal world of abundance and ease that progressively falls into decay in response to the deteriorating ethics of the people who live there. The decline begins as people become greedy and continues with the gradual appearance of arrogance, lust, laziness, theft, lying, and violence.

These ancient myths no longer feel fanciful—they quite accurately represent our modern world. Rainforests have been clear-cut and the land can no longer support people living there. In some parts of the world the soil and water have become polluted with pesticides, herbicides, and other chemicals, sickening nearby residents. The air in metropolitan areas is filled with smog, and children who breathe this pollution have higher rates of asthma and autism.

If we look closely, we can see that greed, hate, or delusion underlies all large scale human destruction of the environment. Greed drives exploitation of our natural resources, hate destroys vast lands through the ravages of war, and delusion perpetuates environmental harm when we don’t understand the impact our actions have on the natural world.

Of these forces, delusion (and its partner, indifference) is perhaps the most widespread and thus the most destructive. Even those of us with the best intentions can be blind to the effects our actions have, especially when the repercussions are out of sight, removed in space or time. For instance, large dams built in order to improve people’s lives have destroyed the watershed that sustained the very communities they were meant to serve. Cutting trees in the Himalayas in order to care for one’s family can have disastrous consequences when hundreds of thousands of people do the same thing. When farmers in Sumatra set fires to clear land, they neither know nor care much about the record air pollution that falls on Singapore as a result. One person thinks that his or her driving contributes a negligible amount of pollution, without considering what happens when that contribution is combined with the millions of cars driving in the same region. In the California Bay Area, for example, the smog from its 5 million cars kills trees in the Sierra Mountains, far out of sight of Bay Area residents.

Buddhism emphasizes the impact our individual actions have on our lives and the world around us, and it follows from this perspective that caring for the natural world begins with each of us. As practitioners on this path, it doesn’t make sense to ignore what we can personally do by relying on others to take responsibility for our environment. Instead we view our own actions as significant. Because of the staggering number of people now living on the earth—7 billion—the combined actions of many can either preserve vast ecosystems, or destroy them. If we fall into passive acquiescence in the face of environmental destruction, we give up our individual “response–ability”—our ability to respond.

Many of us can make the choice to consume fewer natural resources and to act out of compassion for the earth. Doing so doesn’t have to diminish the quality of our lives; it can increase it. We can choose to see reducing our carbon footprint not as an act of deprivation, but as an opportunity to gain the spiritual benefits of a simpler lifestyle. If the natural world is to be our teacher, as Buddhism suggests, maybe we can learn more by walking in a forest or a local park than by speeding by on the highway; perhaps we’re closer to the heart’s freedom when we sit undistracted in nature than when we’re plugged into our various electronic devices.

In each of our lives we’re presented with myriad opportunities to make small and large changes to reduce the negative impact we have on the natural world. When we make these changes as part of a spiritual practice, they support our spiritual growth. Contributing to the well-being of all of life can give joy and provide deeper meaning to our actions.

Still, as individuals we can’t make sweeping changes all by ourselves. Political action is needed to ensure that we all work together for sustainable usage of our natural resources. It takes public policies and laws to ensure that we all share in creating mass transit systems, reducing pollution, and protecting open spaces. History has shown that governmental action is needed as a safeguard against the nearsighted systems within which commercial and industrial interests often operate. Only governments have the ability to negotiate environmental agreements across many states and between nations.

So where does that leave us as Buddhist practitioners? When Buddhist practice is applied to our political efforts, generosity can be our motivation, goodwill and compassion our guide, and learning can replace our quick judgments. Guided by these wholesome qualities, political action can be passionate, energetic, and effective. Some people mistakenly believe that Buddhism, with its emphasis on equanimity, is incompatible with political action. But Buddhism doesn’t discourage political engagement. What it does discourage is divisive, hostile, and exclusively self-serving efforts at making political change.

There’s no doubt that human activity now challenges the health of our natural world more than at any other time in history. Unfortunately the damage to our environment has been increasing every year. If we are to reverse this trend, all but the poorest of us need to make changes in our lifestyle and patterns of consumption. Buddhism provides a way to embrace these changes as part of a path to freedom, peace, and compassion. Our ability to respond to these challenges is also our ability for spiritual growth. We can improve the quality of our environment while we deepen the capacity of our hearts.

—Gil Fronsdal

Many of the Buddha’s teachings focus, in one way or another, on the importance of action in a wise life. When he gave instructions on how to live, he emphasized the importance of choosing actions that benefit ourselves and others. To understand his instruction on action it helps to be familiar with the teachings that provide the context for knowing how to act.

For people on the Buddha’s path of liberation, understanding the relationship between action and karma is important.  The central teaching the Buddha gave concerning karma is that our actions are consequential, and that it’s possible to act in ways that lead to beneficial consequences. This teaching is based on the understanding that we can know and choose which actions to engage in and which to refrain from in order to achieve peace and well being, and to avoid suffering.  Rather than emphasizing past and future lives, as people often do when discussing karma, the Buddha’s teachings point to the importance of the present moment as the only time we can take responsibility for, and train in, the actions that bring freedom.

Because of the important role of karma, the Buddha emphasized being mindful of what we do rather than what we are—and here, we can think of ‘doing’ as encompassing mental activities as well as external actions.  Instead of looking for some fixed, essential psychological state, inner nature, or spiritual essence, the Buddha focused on the dynamic psychological processes that are operating when we suffer.  When we know enough about how our minds function we can begin to avoid those mental actions that cause suffering, and choose to engage in the mental trainings and skillful actions that place us on the path to liberation.

It’s sometimes said that the Buddha emphasized action over belief.  In one sense this is true. When it came to the kinds of supernatural beliefs that underlie most religions, it appears that the Buddha had very little interest.  However, he saw that belief is also a form of action, a mental activity, and so in that sense our beliefs are actions worthy of investigation. This means that in addition to investigating the truth or falsehood of a belief, it is possible to notice whether the act of believing is, in itself, helpful.  In particular it can be useful to notice why we believe what we do.  What is the intention behind our believing?

Another quality the Buddha emphasized in his teachings on action was faith—not blind faith in something that can’t be known, but a faith in those things that can be tested and verified through our actions. Until we see for ourselves the results of our actions, we are supported by a trust that there are activities that will lead us to happiness and protect us from suffering.  When we see and experience the results of practice, this faith can become an unshakeable confidence—we have no doubt about what actions lead to inner freedom and peace.

The role of intention is also central to the Buddha’s teachings on action. Our intentions are a form of mental activity that have consequences for our mental life.  It is the nature or quality of an intention that determines how it affects the mind.  When we act on an intention that has suffering as part of it, more suffering results.  For example, when we speak with hostility, not only is the act of hostility stressful in itself, it often creates the conditions for continued suffering for ourselves and others.  Because greed, hatred and delusion all entail the suffering of clinging, actions motivated by these three intentions reinforce our clinging and so perpetuate the suffering of clinging.   When we act on an intention that embodies freedom from clinging, the benefits of that freedom will strengthen within us.  In this way, when we act on openhanded generosity, love, and wisdom—the opposites of greed, hatred, and delusion—we create mental conditions for happiness and further freedom.

This cultivation of beneficial states of mind is important; the Buddha advocated more than simply ridding ourselves of intentions that are based on clinging.  The purity that comes from avoiding certain behaviors and intentions, while worthwhile, is not enough in itself to attain the highest goal of liberation, we have to see directly into the nature of our own suffering.

But because this direct seeing isn’t easy to do, the Buddha suggested engaging in specific actions to help the mind perceive the ways it grasps and suffers.  Key among these are the practices of concentration, mindfulness, and letting go.  The training in concentration helps keep the mind stable and focused on our present moment experience so that mindfulness can help us see more clearly. The more insight we have into the present moment, the better able we are to recognize the moments of choice in which we can choose more skillful actions.  Training in letting go helps us let go of those behaviors that interfere with the further deepening of mindfulness.  At times the only action needed is letting go of all other actions.

While the Buddha’s teachings on action may seem like instructions for staying in constant activity, they are actually instructions in those actions that lead to greater and greater peace.  It’s the untrained mind that is always busy.  A trained mind can experience profound rest.  It’s the mind that understands skillful actions that can know freedom from all actions.

—Gil Fronsdal

Seated on the ground with legs crossed, hands resting in the lap, torso upright, shoulders balanced, eyes half open in a relaxed gaze, and with a soft, gentle smile, the image of the Buddha in meditation is the most universal and easily recognized Buddhist symbol. For many Buddhists the image represents their deepest aspirations, values and potential. For others it signifies the profound hope and support they find in Buddhism. The image of the seated Buddha conveys calm and peace, which may be why Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike often have the image in their home or garden.

Statues of the Buddha are much more than lumps of clay, stone, or wood. Some of the core ideals of Buddhism are taught through the symbolism found in the meditating Buddha. The statues can be a work of art in which an artist conveys human emotions and states of mind that may awaken meaningful inner states for those who view it.

Because we have no idea what the Buddha actually looked like, the statues and paintings of him are all idealized portrayals that thereby express the ideals of the artist or, more often, the Buddhist tradition of the artist. Not all Buddhists view the Buddha image in the same way. By changing some of the details in the image, different Buddhist traditions have conveyed different symbolic teachings.

The Theravada Buddhist tradition’s view that the Buddha was a human being is symbolized by the Buddha meditating on the ground, in contact with the earth. Depictions of the meditating Buddha are meant to show him meditating as he was on the night of his Awakening, outdoors under a tree. For some people, this close connection to the earth and nature symbolizes how Awakening is a natural event arising from a deep insight into our human nature. The peace experienced by the Buddha did not belong to some divine world separate from this world. It was a peace found within this world.

The cross-legged posture symbolizes the stability that supports the calm exhibited by the rest of the image. The Buddha’s chest is neither puffed up nor collapsed; rather it conveys confidence and openness. The erect torso expresses strength without conceit. His shoulders are evenly balanced and relaxed which symbolizes the ability to maintain mental balance in the face of any challenge. The straight back represents uprightness and self-reliance — the Buddha did not depend on anything outside of himself for his awakening.

In the images of the Buddha meditating, his hands are held together with palms facing up, the right hand slightly rounded resting openly in the palm of the left hand. This open gesture conveys a sense of ease, free from clinging to anything, pushing anything away, or closing up. Perhaps the open hands point to a receptive attitude that can maintain calm and balance in any circumstance.

The classic image of the Buddha meditating shows him with a subtle half-smile, showing that happiness is an important aspect of the Buddhist path. His eyes are half open symbolizing he was equally aware of himself as he was of the world. The Buddha did not make a sharp distinction between attention to his inner personal life and to the outer world around him. It is also said that his eyes are open so as to see, with compassion, the suffering of the world.

All these qualities together represent the possibility of living with peace, uprightness, strength, and self-reliance. They depict our ability to have a calm happiness while having compassion for those who suffer. In this way, through physical expressions, the Buddha image represents qualities that are cultivated with Buddhist practice

The image of the Buddha meditating is not, however, of merely symbolic value. It is also an instruction in meditation practice. Assuming a posture like the Buddha’s helps bring forth the qualities expressed in the idealized Buddha image. When we create a stable physical base while meditating, it is easier to relax the body. When we hold our selves upright with spine straight, we are not leaning forward into the future nor leaning back in aversion. If the shoulders are kept balanced and aligned it is easier to find the middle way between giving in to what we are feeling or pulling away from it. When the chest is open and strong, confidence has a chance to support us.

A wonderful mutuality exists between our posture and our inner psychological life. A balanced, aligned posture for meditation helps bring forth the mental qualities that are strengthened along the Buddhist path. With the growth of these qualities, it becomes easier to sit upright. Whether we meditate in a chair or cross-legged on the floor, approximating the posture of the Buddha images invites the best of human qualities to arise.

The Zen Master Suzuki Roshi once said that when we bow to a Buddha image, we are bowing to ourselves. A Buddha image is not something to worship. Rather it is a mirror through which we can see something in ourselves. When we offer our respect to the Buddha we respect what is good in us. When we bow down to the Buddha, we are lowering our conceit so what is good in us can grow.

Buddhism offers teachings, practices, and profound realizations for two different dimensions of life: the relational and the non-relational. Classically, these two were referred to as the conditioned and the unconditioned dimensions. A modern way of distinguishing them is to point out that the first has to do with that which occurs or exists only in relationship to other things. The second is that which is independent of any relationship to anything else. In human terms, the first involves all the ways of behaving and thinking which are relational. The second are the non-relational ways of being. When these two ways are emphasized equally they complement each other in creating a balanced life. Sometimes, however, one dimension is emphasized while the other is neglected, or even belittled.The cost of doing so is often a painful segregation of these two important aspects of life.

In the Buddhist analysis, almost everything we do and think involves being in relationship with something. Our concerns can be focused on other people, the external world, and ourselves, including the complex inner world of ideas, opinions, feelings, preferences, and desires. This is not surprising since our very existence depends on being supported by things that exist in relationship to us. Normally when we care for our physical, emotional, and social needs we are acting in relationship to the sources of satisfaction for those needs. When we care for someone who is suffering, we are relating to that person.

Many aspects of the relational world are quite beautiful and inspiring; compassion, love, and generosity are among the most meaningful attitudes that arise in relationship to others. Appreciating how our lives are thoroughly dependent on the supportive relationships of innumerable people, mostly unknown, can give birth to a gratitude that is experienced as deeply spiritual. Direct realizations of how interconnected everything in the world is can be among the most significant experiences in a person’s life. At the upper reaches of healthy relationships to the world are powerful, mystical experiences of oneness, and unity. These can include pervasive feelings of universal love that some people see as the pinnacle of their spiritual life.

Many, if not most, Buddhist teachings are concerned with creating healthy relationships within the relational world. This is certainly the case for the foundational practices of generosity, ethics, loving-kindness and compassion. Many of the inner practices, such as meditation, involve transforming how we relate to ourselves so that we don’t undermine our life with negative attitudes and instead regard ourselves with respect and loving-kindness.

One of the most important insights of Buddhism similarly concerns the relational world. The understanding that allowed the Buddha to become liberated was his insight into how things of the world arise in dependent relationship with other things. Nothing that appears exists alone. Everything exists in relationship. By understanding this, when the Buddha saw that suffering exists in a dependent relationship to craving, he could then see how suffering could be brought to an end when the craving ceases.

While Buddhism puts great emphasis on developing healthy and wise relationships to the world, it also includes an understanding of the drawbacks of the relational world: Interconnectedness is dangerous when a tick infects us with Lyme disease or we lose our job because it is outsourced abroad. Unity can be oppressive when a person feels trapped in a social, economic, or political structure where what one can and can’t do is controlled by others.

Buddhism never tires in pointing out that the relational world is unstable and unpredictable. The relationships upon which our life depends can change or even disappear in a moment. This includes our relationships to other people, to things, to activities, to our bodies, and to all the other various aspects of ourselves. If our happiness is dependent on the relational world, then our happiness will be as unstable and changeable as is the world.

When someone meditates it becomes clear that most of our mental activity is concerned with things and people we are in relationship with. It can be quite humbling to realize how compulsive and stressful this mental activity is. Even when our thoughts and feelings about others are healthy and appropriate ones, in meditation even these can hold us back from a deeper, abiding sense of peace. To experience the fullest possibility of peace and freedom we need to put to rest all our preoccupations and concerns, at least temporarily. Our mind does not need to be constantly relating to something. It is possible to still the activity of the mind and so experience a peace that is a radical alternative to how the mind usually operates. For this purpose, Buddhism points to the non-relational dimension of consciousness.

When someone experiences how nourishing the non-relational way of being is, they realize there is a happiness that is not dependent on the conditions of their lives or of the world. If someone believes happiness is only found in particular relationships with the world, then it makes sense to try to control, change, and cling to people, things, and circumstances. When an alternative is known, it is a lot easier to relax the grip of clinging and dependency. It can be a lot easier to meditate when we realize we don’t have to always be thinking about things.

The non-relational dimension of the mind is found through a not-doing, and so involves letting go of our efforts to do, accomplish, avoid, and change what is happening. Most often, this is a gradual process of calming down and quieting the mind. As the mind becomes more still, a point is reached when the meditator realizes that wanting further deepening of the peace is the very thing that stands in the way of this peace. At some point even letting go can be too much doing. Letting things be becomes the only possibility.

As we calm down it is possible to sense a way of being in this world which is non-relational. That is, our minds are not operating with any concerns or relationships to anything. With this comes a deepening sense of well-being. As our mind becomes less preoccupied with the relational world, deeper wellsprings of loving-kindness, empathy, and insight can arise. Our relationships tend to become healthier, simpler and more straightforward.

As the mind becomes simpler, more peaceful and less caught up in things, a time comes when all the intentional and relational activity of the mind comes to a stop. Awareness can exist without it being brought into the service of the mind’s desires and aversions. It just is. This non-relational way of being defies exact definition. It is impossible to cling to this state or to claim it as one’s own because to do so is to leave the non-relational state and return to being in relationship to something. It is a little like grabbing an open hand with the hand itself – the open hand disappears as soon as the hand closes around itself. We can know that we are experiencing the mind that is not relating to anything but we can’t touch it with thought, description or any form of self-appropriation.

To have a full experience of the non-relational state of mind is to experience one of the most profound forms of well-being, peace, and liberation. To have confidence in this possibility, and even better, to feel the continued background presence of this dimension in one’s mind, allows one to live in the relational world with ease and wisdom. It also opens our hearts to greater compassion, which is one of the most valuable emotions of the relational world. In Buddhism the combination of these two – liberation and compassion, non-relational and relational – is considered the ultimate relationship. Ideally the two dimensions go hand in hand, and as your practice matures you get the best of both worlds.

—Gil Fronsdal

“A wise person does not intend harm to self or to others. A wise person intends benefit for self, for others, and for the whole world.”

-The Buddha

The full scope of Buddhist practice is conveyed through the word ‘Dharma.’ This word has a number of meanings that depend on the context in which it is used. Sometimes it refers to the teachings and practices of the Buddha, but its most significant meaning is the natural truths, laws and processes of the path of practice he taught.  For many Buddhists the Dharma is the object of their greatest commitment and devotion.  It is a source of refuge, guidance, and ultimate meaning, and, most importantly, it is what allows for the Liberation taught by the Buddha.

The Dharma is characterized by and expressed through non-harming, and the path of the Buddha is a path of harmlessness.  The Dharma of the Buddha can help us discover a peace we only experience when we aren’t causing suffering to ourselves or others.  This peace is called Liberation or Awakening when it includes, if even for just a short time, a full cessation of suffering.

The Dharma is not something outside of oneself; it is not an external power working through our lives. Nor is it something personal that we can claim as our own. It is not a ‘thing’ that exists by itself.  Rather, it is a process that exists only when activated. Just as a fist appears only when we clench our hand, so the Dharma only emerges when we behave in certain ways.  However, unlike a fist, we don’t create the Dharma directly; we create the conditions that allow it to appear.

The way the Dharma arises can be compared to floating in freshwater.  When we float, we may say the water supports us, but, in fact, the water alone is not sufficient to keep us from drowning.  If we don’t know how to float, and we thrash around in fear or only relax and trust, the water won’t hold us up.  Floating is a learned skill that depends on our having both the intention to float and the skill.  Once the skill is mastered, being supported by the water can seem almost effortless. But since floating safely does not depend only on our skill and intention, it doesn’t make sense to take complete credit for it. The dynamic interplay of the water, our bodies, intention, and skill creates the floating.

Floating is like the Dharma.  As a support for our lives, the Dharma is not found in the external world nor is it some inherent essence of our human nature.  It appears in the interaction of the world, aspects of our human nature, and particular skills and behaviors.  The Dharma is neither separate from us nor something we are solely responsible for. Just as part of the skill of floating is relaxing and letting go of activities that interfere with floating, so too, the skill that allows the Dharma to arise and support us includes letting go of what undermines that support.  But the Dharma is not found simply by letting go any more than floating safely in water simply requires relaxing. Certain skills and intentions need to be present for the Dharma to appear and to function.  It is through the way we live that the Dharma can have a role in our lives.

The essence of this way of life is a devotion to non-harming.  It is all too easy to harm others and ourselves with our thoughts, self-concepts and emotional reactions and quite difficult to overcome the causes of these mental activities.  For this reason, it is important to have something that helps us minimize such harm and its causes.  For Buddhists this something is the Dharma.

An important Dharma teaching is the Four Noble Truths.  These pragmatic perspectives are based on a seemingly simple way of being in the world: if you stop doing something that is causing harm, the harming ceases. What makes this principle challenging are all the forms of self-harm which are not easy to stop.  Addictions to desires, compulsions toward anger, obsessions with fear, and attachments to self can be so deeply rooted in the mind that they are hard to recognize, let alone stop.

In Buddhist shorthand, these addictions, compulsions, obsessions, and attachments are referred to as clinging or craving.  When the contraction of clinging is pervasive it leads to stress, which makes us vulnerable to such human instincts as fear, aggression, and greed. When these qualities are activated it can be easy to behave in ways that lead to further harm to ourselves or others.  Buddhism emphasizes that craving is a condition for further craving and that intentions to harm tend to motivate more of the same.

In contrast, letting go of clinging creates conditions for further letting go, and non-harming motivates more non-harming.  Stress decreases with the lessening of clinging which then leads to relaxed states of being.  Calm and relaxed states, in turn, activate our human instincts for empathy and caring and our capacities for creativity and wisdom, all of which support our practice on the Buddhist path and help bring forth the Dharma.

As for Dharma practice, it is helpful to appreciate that empathy, caring, attention, and wisdom occur not only because we consciously decide to have them occur, but also because conditions are in place to activate them.  When we practice the Dharma we create the conditions for our best qualities to function.  As these beneficial faculties are expressed more actively in our lives, we discover that our lives are being supported by forces independent of our self-conscious efforts and self-centered attachments.  As these forces protect, guide and liberate, people often feel increasing confidence in the power of the Dharma in their lives.

The Buddhist practices of non-harming that bring forth the Dharma in our lives are encapsulated within the Eightfold Path.  These eight practices include wise understanding of what causes suffering, living ethically so we don’t cause harm, and developing mental capacities such as mindfulness and concentration so that we can let go of the deep mental roots of clinging.  Initially, these are trainings we intentionally undertake. With practice, these become less something we undertake and more who we are.  They become how we naturally act. When someone has fully matured in the Dharma it is said they become the Eightfold Path, they become the Dharma.

The more our practice reveals the Dharma the less sense it makes to take credit for the Dharma working through us, just as we don’t take credit for a refreshing breeze on our palm when we open our fist.  It is our task to open the fist in our heart so we can be refreshed by the Dharma, by the winds of compassion, wisdom, and freedom.

Letting go is an important practice in everyday life, as well as on the path of liberation.  Daily life provides innumerable small and large occasions for letting go of plans, desires, preferences, and opinions. It can be as simple as when the weather changes, and we abandon plans we had for the day. Or it can be as complex as deciding what to sacrifice, when pulled between the needs of family, friends, career, community, or spiritual practice.  Daily life provides many situations where letting go is appropriate, or even required.  Learning how to do so skillfully, is essential to a happy life.

Buddhist practice leads to a letting go that is more demanding than what ordinary life usually requires. Beyond relinquishing particular desires and opinions, we practice letting go of the underlying compulsion to cling to desires and opinions. The liberation of Buddhism is not just letting go of outdated and inaccurate self-concepts; it also involves giving up a core conceit that causes us to cling to ideas of who we are or aren’t.  Liberation is releasing the deepest attachments we have.

The practice of letting go is often mistrusted. One good reason for this mistrust is because, without wisdom, it is easy to let go of the wrong things; for example, when we let go of such healthy pursuits as exercising or eating well, instead of our clinging to those pursuits.  Another reason for mistrust, is that letting go or renunciation, can suggest deprivation, weakness, and personal diminishment if we think we have to abandon our views and wishes in favor of the views and wishes of others.

It is possible to let go either of a thing or of the grasping we have to that thing.  In some circumstances, it is appropriate to give something up. In others, it is more important to let go of the grasping.  When someone is addicted to alcohol, it is necessary to renounce alcohol.  However, when someone is clinging to the past, it is not the past that needs to be abandoned, rather it is the clinging. If the past is rejected, it can’t be a source of understanding.  When there is no clinging to it, it is easier to learn the lessons the past provides.

At times, it is important to understand the shortcomings of what we are clinging to before we are able to let go.  This may require investigation into the nature of what we are holding on to. For example, many people have found it easier to let go of arrogance when they see clearly the effect it has on one’s relationships with others.  When we see clearly what money can and can’t do for us, it can be easier to let go of the idea that money will give us a meaningful life.

Sometimes it is more important to understand the shortcomings of the grasping itself rather than the object of grasping.  Grasping always hurts. It is the primary source of suffering.  It limits how well we can see what is happening.  When it is strong, clinging can cause us to lose touch with ourselves. It interferes with our ability to be flexible and creative and it can be a trigger for afflictive emotions.

By investigating both the grasping itself and the object of our grasping, it becomes possible to know which of these we need to let go of.  If the object of grasping is harmful, then we let go of that.  If the object of grasping is beneficial, then we can let go of the grasping so that what is beneficial remains.  Helping a neighbor, caring for your own health and welfare, or enjoying nature can be done with or without clinging.  It is accomplished much better without the clinging.

The Buddhist practice of letting go, has two important sides that fit together like the front and back of one’s hand. The first side, which is the better known, is letting go of something.  The second side is letting go into something.  The two sides work together like letting go of the diving board while dropping into the pool, or giving up impatience and then relaxing into the resulting ease.

While letting go can be extremely beneficial, the practice can be even more significant when we also learn to let go into something valuable. From this side, letting go is more about what is gained than what is lost.  When we let go of fear, it may also be possible to let go into a sense of safety or a sense of relaxation.  Forsaking the need to be right or to have one’s opinions justified can allow a person to settle into a feeling of peace.  Letting go of thoughts might allow us to open to a calmer mind.  By letting go into something beneficial, it can be easier to let go of something harmful.  At times, people don’t want to let go because they don’t see the alternative as better than what they are holding on to.  When something is clearly gained by letting go, it can be easier to do so.

We can see the Buddhist emphasis on what is gained through letting go by how the tradition understands renunciation.  While the English word implies giving something up, the Buddhist analogy for renunciation, is to go out from a place that is confined and dusty, into a wide open, clear space. It is as if you have been in a one room cabin with your relatives, snowed in for an entire winter.  While you may love your relatives, what is gained when you open the door and get out into the spring, probably feels exquisite.

One of the nice things about letting go into something is that it has less to do with willing something or creating something than it does with allowing or relaxing. Once we know how to swim, it can be relaxing to float by allowing the water to hold us up.  Once we know how to have compassion, there may be times when we not only let go of ill-will, but also let go into a sense of empathy.  Letting go of fear, may then also be resting back into a sense of calm.

A wonderful result of letting go is to experience each moment as being enough, just as it is.  It allows us to be present for our experience here and now with such clarity and freedom that this very moment stands out as something profound and significant.  We can let go of the headlong rush into the future, as well as the various, imaginative ways we think, “I’m not enough” or “this moment is not good enough”, so we can discover a well-being and peace not dependent on what we want or believe.

A fruit of Buddhist practice is to have available a greater range of wholesome, beautiful and meaningful inner states to let go into.  In particular, one can come to know a pervasive peace, accessible through both letting go and letting go into.  The full maturity of this peace is when we let go of our self as the person experiencing the peace.  With no self, there is just peace.