May We Not Suffer Too Much
Once when I was on retreat there was a woman, let’s call her Liza, who was not like the other retreatants. She smoked cigarettes, swore, challenged the teachers, snuck food into the temple, and had a generally caustic attitude. She was secretive and defensive about some of these behaviours; I saw and heard them because we were in neighbouring rooms. I wondered even why she was there as she seemed to have little interest in diving deep into contemplation or meditation practice. Yet, she was there. And I could identify with her comings and goings, her searching for happiness in the quick fixes. I used to be like her, if a little less abrasive. I still am like that to some degree; old habits are persistent!
My young self didn’t put much stock in ethics as equating to character. I felt more at ease with people who had a few vices, like Liza. To be good had a stigma. Maybe it smacked of responsibility that I didn’t have the shoulders for. Because I didn’t know that little lies to myself or others created a painful loop in the mind even though they were meant to protect me or others from harm. Or that the inability to say no was a betrayal of myself even though it felt good to please people and get praise or gratification. Or that simply leaving on time for work would have been a kindness to myself as well as others. What felt easy turned out not to be easy in the end, such as arriving at my destination flustered and self-conscious. Like Liza, I wanted to connect and embrace the fullness of life, but my methods were off.
I’m reminded of Liza because the blog I had lined up for today is about Sila, the Buddhist quality of ethical behaviour. One can choose, for example, to follow precepts to not harm, steal, lie, engage in sexual misconduct, or intoxicate one’s mind. Undertaking the precepts illuminates all those little half-truths, indulgences, and betrayals that seem so minor, but that create an entangled web in the mind and in the behaviour that unfolds from it. At that retreat, I started to write out a list of the precepts we share at the Muskoka Mindfulness Community and planned to give them to Liza at the end of the retreat, saying how they’d helped me. Saying them daily, we end up helping ourselves in little ways rather than hurting ourselves (and others). The teacher had the same idea it seems and gave Liza the precepts. So the half-written page remains in my journal as a vivid and memorable lesson that remains relevant even to my older and somewhat wiser self.
Maybe this doesn’t resonate with anyone else, but it was a revelation to me that fine attention to ethical behaviour is not a burdensome edict; it is actually a path to freedom from the weight of an obsessive mind always looking over its shoulder. Ease, clarity, and calm in body, mind, and heart is the “bliss of blamelessness.” It’s a bit like the feeling one has looking at the mountains or standing on the wide shore of a vast lake or watching a peacefully sleeping toddler. There is just more space and it is kinder and happier. This clear space can be amplified in a multitude of ways — meditation is one. The science of awe reveals another (here’s a fascinating interview about that — worth sharing again). We’re just more open to things like awe, and kindness, when the mind is free from entanglement.
A compelling Tricycle Talks interview with Zen priest, Nancy Mujo Baker takes another angle: that the behaviours described by the precepts are the authentic action of people in touch with their hearts. For if we know that our actions can either help or cause harm, and we love life, we are less inclined to lie or steal even in the smallest way. I mean really small: like talking incessantly is stealing attention; saying you had a couple squares of chocolate when you really had six is lying; fantasizing about someone other than your partner is cheating; and scrolling mindlessly through social media is intoxicating. In Buddhism, Bodhichitta is an awakened heart-mind that sees people as beings of light and love and who are cloaked to varying degrees by a lifetime (or many lifetimes) of conditions and habits. Bodhichitta looks for the light in each person, acts according to that true nature, and reflects it back.
It is a force for these difficult times because Bodhichitta is also courageous — it is soft and kind and it has the strength of lions because it is authentic and confident. It speaks when words need to be said. Acts appropriately. Meets people and experience with joy. Fearlessly investigates and slays delusion. Is willing to love. A more familiar word that is usually associated with Christianity — grace — fits here too. When you think of someone who embodies grace, aren’t they also kind, honest, generous, respectful, and authentic? Aren’t they undeniably beings of light and love?
Grace, Bodhichitta, knows we all are that (even those of us who’ve forgotten or have never known it to be true). For Liza and for all of us, may we not suffer too much on the long human journey to remembering that truth.
