Curious Compassion

  In her book Welcoming the Unwelcome, Pema Chodron remarks how:

You can't be friendly and judgmental at the same time. If you have a good friend, you probably know all about her strangeness. You probably have some ideas about how she would be happier if she went about some things a little differently. But if you do call her out on her issues, you don't do it in a harsh, critical way. You don't do it out of thinking there's something inherently wrong with her. You do it out of your care .(p.122)

As I was reading this passage, I had the thought that the way we view our emotions is often a reflection of the way others viewed them, especially those we encountered when young. If our elders reacted to our emotions with unease or anxiety, we pick up that certain emotions are not welcome or had best be left alone completely. It's hard to find true curiosity there, because the attitude is more like someone wading through a dense swamp who only wants to get to the other shore. Curiosity may be too messy--and, just as the Pandora's box story suggests, curiosity sometimes opens doors that cannot be closed again. This makes curiosity dangerous and even potentially transformative, all in not necessarily a good way.

When I think of "curious compassion", I reflect on how a good doctor will try to examine the patient holistically: not just prescribing a pill or "writing off" the patient, but genuinely wanting to know the ailment both from the doctor's and the patient's views. I want to know all the dimensions of suffering, in other words, not just the parts that I am familiar with or can use to cure an ailment. I want to take the time, but also with the faith that something will come out of the exploration, even if there are no clear answers.

If I were to phenomenologically trace the compassionate elements of curiosity, it would consist of the following:

a) allowing something to emerge without the trap of words or classifications. Not labelling the state but genuinely welcoming it for what it is. Not hurrying to give it a name,

b) inquiring into its various dimensions. Like huatou, I am genuinely asking the thing itself, not just asking for the sake of being clever or coming up with my own answers. I wait for the situation to provide answers rather than rushing in with my own answers

c) patience with what is as an evolving and unfolding process. I don't give into the despair of thinking anything is ever fixed in one meaning

d) wanting to stay with whatever arises. I am not trying to fix or get rid of it.

Much of this is similar to meditative practice, but I think the two most important aspects of curiosity are a spirit of play--open ended, exploratory and process based---and a spirit of "just observe". When I observe without a fixed agenda (including even the tricky agenda of "I must be curious, or else"), then my mind softens and naturally curiosity arises.

Worldly Dharmas

 In "Exhortations on Investigating Chan", Master Boshan notes, "[D]o not be stained by or attached to worldly dharmas in the course of practice" (Master Sheng Yen, Attaining the Way, p.10). What are worldly dharmas? During the Dharma talk the other day, Chang Yuan Fashi described how practice needs to go beyond worldly appearances. If we cling to appearances, we are putting our faith on things that are not permanent and therefore not truly real. He used the example of a young boy who is attracted to an 18 year old girl who does not like him, but is then told by Fashi that there is an 80 year old wealthy woman who is attracted to him. Which would he choose? Fashi used this example to point to the fickle nature of desires; in fact, the 18 year old girl will eventually become just like the 80 year old woman. I think the deeper point to make is how, when we feel craving, we assume that what we crave is going to be the same forever. We reify the object of desire into something static and seemingly unchanging.

To go back to the text, I think that worldly dharmas are precisely what makes us identify with the self. We sometimes think of life as a competition to acquire the best, to be the most popular or most well-liked, and to look disparagingly at others if they seem to be getting more attention or credit. This way of thinking stems from a deep insecurity that comes from identifying ourselves with the body. Beneath the desire for popularity, acceptance, etc. is the fear of what life is like when we are alone or feel abandoned. In fact, when we recognize the abandonment feeling as something from our childhood and can embrace that that moment has passed, then we can move forward with our life. We can truly love life without clinging to certain parts of it out of fear, insecurity or the desire to be validated by worldly things. In this way, as Fashi put it yesterday, we can cultivate unified mind: the sense that, rather than "me" being "in this body", in fact "all of this is me".

Faith in your Mind

 In Master Boshan's writings, we read the following: "When you consider your own mind  as the buddha, that is genuine faith" (p.10). As I am reading this sentence, it strikes me how rarely I fully experience the gravity of the sentence. After all, if the Buddha is within us, it would be like having a precious jewel that is worth more than all the money in the world. Not only would we feel happy and free to know that the Buddha exists within, but we would also treat our lives as very sacred and precious. Stop for a moment right now, close your eyes, and think: "I have Buddha within. I am Buddha nature." It is probably very hard for most people to imagine that the profound nature of Buddha mind is within them, and it's easy for people to say "that's not possible", and default to imagining a great heavenly being as the Buddha. 

We are taught to believe, in fact that buddha nature is far away, yet I think Master Boshan said that we have to look to ourselves to know the real meaning and answer of life. And that also points to the fact that the only real liberation is what is happening now, in this moment. When we are wholeheartedly embracing that moment, we truly begin to know ourselves as Buddhas. That is genuine faith, because then we know that it is our responsibility alone to show the buddha nature in every moment and in every step. That means, we cannot rely on any external sign to bring it about. It has to go beyond signs, words, concepts and other marks. So the challenge of Master Boshan's teachings is to embody that faith and not to waste a single moment of life to try to embody it.

Smiling at the World

  When I think about how there are always things to do, the metaphor of accumulation comes to mind. We are literally "stuffing ourselves" with the things that we need to do, need to have, need to become. But there is so little time to just look at the fact that we are alive here and now. When we stand on this ball of rock so far from the sun, could we ever have predicted that we would be here? And so, we should find times in between the struggles of life to be happy and to allow both good and bad to arise. "Good" and "bad", in fact, are only judgments that we temporarily make about things that are going to change anyway, regardless of what we do.

I remember years ago when I applied for a summer job at Canadian Tire, when the employer told me I needed a car to get the job. When I told him I didn't drive or have a car, he apologized that the application wasn't clear or explicit enough, but invited me to stay and have a coffee while he interviewed the fellow applicant for the job. For whatever reason, I felt this to be an apt metaphor at the time. I think what he was saying to me is that there is a lot of time in this world to acquire nothing, and just sit to enjoy a coffee. And I will never forget that day, because it also allowed me to be "just me", without the fear of loss or gain.

Faith and Words in Master Boshan's writings

 

For the June 22 Dharma Talk, Chang Yuan Fashi reviewed by suggesting that previous chapters focused on diligence. By comparing the huatou to a cat chasing a mouse, Master Boshan alludes to the strong sense of purpose and “quest” that we must evoke when using these direct practice methods. That is, we must use huatou with the clarity and determination of wanting to know the answer to an existential question that deeply impacts us. Subsequent chapters are more devoted to the importance of faith and not using intellect and word analysis to “figure out” gong’ans. But ChangYuan Fashi cautioned that even when we believe we are living up to our roles, responsibilities and duties in life, it’s the scattered mind that prevents us from having the firm resolve to carry out our purposes. Since the mind is constantly fluctuating, we need to use calming methods to stabilize mind before we can effectively transform the mind using huatou method. This is why a clear mind is the first step to Chan practice.

Master Boshan remarks, “do not guess or measure the gong’ans of the ancient worthies and make deluded interpretations”. What does it mean “do not measure”? Ven. Chang Yuan used the analogy of trying to use the words of another person’s experience to validate one’s own. Gong’ans were records of what ancient masters experienced and imparted to their students, and are not to be confused with the experiences themselves, which each practitioner can only discern through their own personal Chan practice. The investigation of huatou is neither a verbal one, nor one undertaken by the conscious mind. For instance, in answer to the question, “Who is reciting the Buddha’s name?” practitioners may easily get caught in the deluded thinking that there is an object (a “me”) that recites the Buddha’s name. This is using “illusory mind” to answer huatou rather than using huatou to point to the true mind that is beyond words and language. This is not the way to practice direct investigation but is rather a kind of default consciousness that we use to generate the samsaric existence and actions. “Do not measure” also refers to an ancient Chinese form of fortune telling which used turtle shells to divine the future. “Reading” fortune through the turtle shell was thought to be one way of discerning the future. However, gong’ans are not meant to be read in this similar way. This is because the words of gong’an have no connection with your own experience, and you must practice intensely to find your own resonance with what the words connect to. Adding deluded interpretations to the words is no different from the account of the emperor who, after asking Bodhidharma what merit he accumulated through his good deeds, was told “no merit”. There is no merit to be gained in emptiness because there are no absolute good and evil and there are no marks. In fact, however, while Ven. Guoxing has taught that “the mother of your mind is not your true mother”, he simultaneously taught that the mother in your mind is the true mother. That is, we use forms and words to generate good merit, but we should not think that merit exists absolutely or as a static, unchanging thing or quality.

ChangYuan Fashi pointed to the importance of discerning the difference between serving the objects of consciousness, including the self or “I” and accumulating merit through serving as a volunteer. Both are forms of human activity, but which of these is more meritorious? For a retired person, time spent volunteering is different from the time spent at home cleaning or doing other activities. In the former case, the aim is to uplift all sentient beings, which creates a sense of inner uplift. To emphasize t, his point, ChangYuan Fashi drew from his own experiences in helping to rescue an elderly lady. Fashi recalls doing this as a young person, and how peaceful he felt within when he was able to do something with the pure intention of wanting to help and save another sentient being. Giving to others plants virtuous seeds in the mind, which thereby results in a peaceful state of mind. However ChangYuan Fashi also cautioned that there are a total of 51 mind actions, only 10 of which are wholesome actions. The remaining 41 are the kinds of actions that feed a sense of separate self, including jealousy, anger etc. An earnest sense of determination is needed to overcome unwholesome actions and plant the good seeds of wholesome deeds in our mind.

ChangYuan Fashi explored yet another important aspect of huatou practice, which is faith. Chapter 9 begins thus: “If you have faith, then you are a vessel [of the Dharma]”. A vessel is said to be a great container, and this is an apt metaphor for faith. When we have great faith, we don’t need to be filled with so much knowledge, and, like an empty glass, our mind can be receptive and humble.  In contrast, a mind full of its own views and knowledge cannot take advantage of new opportunities or novel ways of seeing life.  This also means having a mind that does not cling to special experiences, even meditative ones. ChangYuan Fashi distinguished between three kinds of faith: faith in yourself, faith in Buddhadharma, and faith in our teachers. Many people’s faith is, as Boshan suggests, “in the Dharma gate and not in their own minds”. People cling tenaciously to sutras and words from gong’ans, as though the words themselves granted people power. Even the word “emptiness” can turn into an object of mind, which means one is still using deluded mind to contemplate it. In fact, according to Chan teachings, there is neither form nor emptiness, and nor is there even a middle way between these two. ChangYuan Fashi used the example of how we sometimes try to advise people in our lives to accept a difficult situation as “just empty”, when in fact we are only using a concept of emptiness that is divorced from a genuine realization of emptiness. Fashi compared this to someone who forces someone else to wear their shoes. Again, the caution is not to substitute words for true realization. Only when all conditions have ripened will we be able to experience genuine emptiness, not just a verbal concept, temporary experience, or mental object.

 

Happiness without Ice Cream

  In his book, Turning the Mind into an Ally,  Sakyong Mipham notes how, for Buddhists:

"Becoming curious about how we suffer doesn't mean that we can no longer enjoy eating ice cream. But once we begin to understand the bewilderment of our untrained mind, we won't look to the ice cream and say, 'That's happiness'. We'll realize that the mind can be happy devoid of ice cream. We'll realize that the mind is content and happy by nature" (p.23).

Now, this is quite the radical view, I believe! I think what it firstly suggests is the pliancy of the mind, and how the mind can take joy in its own essential, inherent emptiness. Conversely, if I am too identified with the taste of ice cream, I see myself as deprived without it. I am not able to see that even the ice cream, when obtained and eaten, also has an expiry time: we cannot enjoy it forever, after all! And perhaps the fact that ice cream melts so quickly makes it truly symbolic of the fragility of worldly pleasures.

I have long wondered what is the relationship between Buddhism and sensory pleasures? At first glance I would say, many interpret Buddha as a being who renounced all pleasures and even warned against them. However, I don't agree. I have the sense that for the Buddha, pleasure is not a problem as long as it is seen for what it is--as temporary--and as long as there isn't a reified sense of I associated with the pleasure. As soon as I desire something, I not only want it, but I subtly imagine what I would be without it, and I give rise to a scarcity mindset of wanting to hoard it. This happened during COVID, when people hoarded toilet paper. On a literal level, families do need it, but did anyone stop to consider the symbolic meaning of it? To me, toilet paper is  the "adult" version of diapers. It symbolizes maternity, security, being swaddled and taken care of. When people couldn't find toilet paper in the stores, they panicked because they could no longer see themselves as able to care for themselves. This is because they had a reified sense of security.

If I am not attached to the symbolic sense of security, then I can love more. I love with wisdom, not with an idea of hoarding, and my love for things is based on the trust that the things around me are always peacefully what they need to be--they are all phenomena unfolding in the mind. Then I can enjoy ice cream, because I am not tagging a sense of self to its enjoyment. I don't grieve when ice cream is not available to me anymore (for health reasons or the like) and instead I can even be happy for those who can enjoy it, while not denying its pleasures.

Mind of Infinite Tolerance

  I recently read an analogy which goes something like: imagine our vexations, thoughts (whether good or bad), as the various fish or shrimps in an ocean, and we ourselves are that ocean. Now, I normally don't think this way at all. Me, an ocean? Can't be!! But according to this analogy, indeed, the mind is an infinite ocean that is constantly renewing itself. In fact, even the analogy of renewal is inaccurate because it suggests that there is some recycling depot out there where the mind either purifies itself or "recycles" back to a normal state. Perhaps even a giant toilet that flushes and replenishes itself? I think the analogy suggests, to the contrary, that the mind is so vast that nothing can pollute it. 

   All too often, we think there is not enough in us. I reflect on how, when the mind is seen as a shallow pool, the creatures that inhabit it (our thoughts) feel like they are running out of water and can't survive for very long. They start knocking on the door, one by one, asking for sustenance, and asking to be the number one priority in the mind. They even want to shut out the other thoughts, for fear that their own voices will be drowned out. But if the mind is clear, vast, and non-grasping, there is more than enough room for all the thoughts. All thoughts are given their due consideration, without the illusion that the thoughts have an independent reality apart from mind itself. This is to say that when one can reach the point of purely observing thoughts and how they arise and disappear, one will not fall for the trap that thoughts endure forever as separate entities. I might think so and so is "this way", but that thought of the person has already disappeared. They, whoever they are, are not in that thought. They have moved on, and so have you, so why be bound to that one thought of the person (whether positive or negative)? 

   The insecurity that one has is the fear that they themselves are not "good enough". This leads to a clinging mindset, fear and regrets, which are all related to grasping conditions and how we are taking them to be permanent. Are they permanent? Is there anything one has worried about that still remains with them after 10, 20 years? In fact, most worries become other worries, or just resolve through the passage of time. So reflecting on emptiness is the only way to develop the confidence that no thought is getting  in the way of who we are. It is only our vexation and attachment to thoughts that causes us to feel scarcity, grasping and insecurity in life.

June 15 Dharma Talk- Finding Our Original Face

 For the June 15 Dharma talk, ChangYuan Fashi continued with a discussion of Chapter 5 with the stark reminder from Master Boshan: “do not fear that in death you will not live; instead, fear living without [having experienced the great] death!” What is the fear of death that Master Boshan refers to, and, more specifically, the “great” death? Part of the tricky balance of huatou practice is to maintain “relaxed focus”, which means that we fully engage in generating the mass of doubt, but we must learn to relax our bodies first. Since huatou practice involves singleminded devotion to a question, it can sometimes lead to bodily tension. This is why ChangYuan Fashi reminded us to “leave our bodies to the cushion” when practicing huatou method, which means slowing down and releasing all tension before devoting oneself to huatou practice. Fashi compared the tense or nervous attitude that people sometimes take toward huatou with those in China who “pray to the god of Exams” in order to successfully pass a test. With a tense mind, it’s easy to make mistakes or have scattered thoughts in whatever we do. On the other hand, when the body is relaxed, the huatou practice can be more seamlessly practiced.

But, to go back to the original statement that begins Chapter 5, what would cause practitioners to overcome the fear of death? Fashi explained how most of us are attached to our bodies, going to great pains to make ourselves comfortable, ease any pains in the body, or relieve discomforts. As a result, we start to identify ourselves with our bodies, which then creates heavy karmic obstacles to practice, including focusing on the discomfort of leg pain at the expense of using the actual method while in sitting meditation. This isn’t to say that we should discard the body, but we should view the body from the right view as a tool of one’s practice. After all, the body that we currently have allows us to contribute to society, attend Dharma talks, take responsibility for our families, and even repay the kindness of our parents. Fashi reminded the participants not to identify with or attach to the body, but instead to appreciate the body as the way we can generate merit and practice meditation methods. In this way, the craving for life and avoidance of death can gradually be overcome.

Fashi recited the line “Dying is to remove your stealing mind”, where “stealing” refers to the tendency to look to the external environment for support, rather than within our own original nature as the way to awaken. When we are not moved by grasping or craving, then both stillness and motion become identical because the mind is no longer swayed by the changing conditions. While the unenlightened mind sees “still” and “moving” objects, in reality, the mind is constantly in flux. In fact, everything is always changing, so there really isn’t a single still phenomena to be found anywhere. When Master Boshan remarks on how “the deluded mind will be purified by itself”, he is referring to the fact that our vexations stem from a tendency to grasp the thoughts as though they were real and external to mnd, rather than seeing that they are the result of causes and conditions. When we see vexations for what they are (as impermanent and identical with Buddha nature), they cease to be sources of suffering. In this way, deluded mind becomes purified without adding or subtracting anything.

Fashi pointed out how the method of involves contemplate (use the method), illuminate (being clear about the method, or mindfulness) and pick up the method to maintain consistent and constant practice at all times. During the talk, Fashi briefly explored Silent Illumination, mainly to point out its differences from Huatou. With Silent Illumination practice, the “silence” does not involve absence of sound, but, instead, refers to the absence of moving the mind. The mind is simply clear about all the sense objects, without seeking them or adding conscious thought to them. Illumination refers to clearly being mindful of the totality of all the body, and treat all phenomena as extension of the body. Fashi explained that this practice is simple to describe, but not always easy to implement, since there is no specific method to return to. Keeping the “six roots” (six senses) open means to be clear and relaxed about what is emerging in the six senses without adding a conscious thought. In contrast, Huatou method is almost the opposite: it involves a single-minded pointing to the question of the huatou, while shutting out the six senses.

Throughout the talk, Fashi reminded his audience that the practices described in Master Boshan’s treatise are very profound, yet not often easy to apply in daily life. He encouraged the audience to interpret the talks positively, meaning that they should try to take whatever they can from the talk to uplift their minds rather than feeling discouraged or challenged by applying the method to daily life. When people go home to their families and express the joy of hearing the Dharma, their families will see an immediate difference and will want them to go back to the centre to learn more. At times, people may find the practice a burden and treat it as a responsibility, much like the “thousand pounds on your shoulders” which describes the doubt sensation in Chapter Six.  Instead of viewing practice as a burden, Fashi encouraged the retreat participants to see these burdens as opportunities to acquire merit. He compared this to a grandmother who doesn’t see taking care of her grandchildren as a burden.

Another analogy that is mentioned in Chapter 6 to explain the Huatou method is “searching for an important thing you have lost”. In fact, according to the analogy of the Original Face in the Platform Sutra, the one thing we feel we have lost the most is our original nature, which we have already had all along, and therefore does not need to be found outside the mind. As long as we are willing to investigate our vexations, then there is no need to seek additional wisdom beyond the vexations themselves. Fashi stressed that we should not try to seek this original face outside our mind, or with the intention of personal gain. Like a cat watching the mouse, we generate the huatou with a determination that is relaxed. At the very least, if we can do this at a slowed pace, we develop the quality of patience, both with the method itself and with vexations we face in daily life and practice. This also requires cultivating an intentional curiosity to know the answer to the huatou, and to use it to find our true home.

Reflection and Contemplation: Two Oars for Rowing

    I am always a bit leery, to be honest, when people say things like "don't just think about Zen; directly experience it!" This approach--which some have compared to eating instead of simply looking at the menu--makes me feel that thought is divorced from so called life. In fact, both "direct experience" and "thought" are just variations on thought. As soon as I even become conscious of anything, there is already a sense of subject and object. So I don't think it's necessary to rage war against thought. The claim that some think meditation instead of doing meditation seems a bit extreme and dualistic. I would suggest instead that all are just functions of the mind, and leave it at that.

   There is this fantasy that somehow if only I let go of all the "bad" things that make me chained to a life of vexations, addictions, and so on, then I would reach this pristine state of being. It could be called "the moment", "now", "the present" and so on, but whatever we call it, there is always a sense that something out there is better, more clear, more pristine. And we keep trying to get that experience, even to the point where we discriminate between those who "have it" (sages) and those who don't (neurotics). But I think the whole point of practice is that whatever we are doing, thinking, feeling in the present, are really just functions of mind. We should never feel afraid of these things, since they are impermanent. 

Being able to directly experience impermanence does not mean we just "ditch" our thoughts, but nor does it mean that we try to seek "clearer" or "better" thoughts. Instead, we simply experience the temporality of thoughts and their contingent, provisional nature. This involves both an appreciation for the ability to think and make sense of the world, and a light attitude: let's not fall too deeply into our thoughts, or become enthralled in the search for perfect thoughts, knowing that they will all be washed up with the tides. But we need not dismiss thoughts either. They have their place, just like the oars on a boat have a place in steering the boat. Oars do not control the boat--they only gently direct the boat to where we need it to go. In the same way, we need reflections, thoughts, concepts, to be able to add shape and sense to our experiences, but we don't need to urgently cling to them. They are just there to help us steer clear of trouble and stay on an even path.

Seeking vs Not Seeking

  It's been a while since I dipped into Master Boshan's writings, so I thought I would continue from where I left off in Master Sheng Yen's Attaining the Way. But let me preface this by saying: I think that the art of "not knowing" is to learn to enjoy the space between the knowing and the not knowing, without punishing ourselves for not knowing. Sometimes the grassy path has no clear footprints, but the only direction is the direction that one's feet are taking us. If you don't know what this means, just walk! And you will soon find out that the walking itself is the destination.

 Here is what Master Boshan notes:

"You can only resolve the Great Matter [of birth and death] in the midst of stillness, while not knowing that you are in stillness. But if you seek to resolve this Great Matter in stillness, then you'll never attain it! If you don't seek, then you are sure to get it" (p.8).

When reading this passage, I am sure many would be confused. Why would we be "sure" to get something by not seeking it? Is this a veiled invitation to a kind of lazy "non-practice"? I think the idea of "not knowing that you are in stillness" simply means, we don't treat stillness as an object of contemplation. If I meditate and look for something called "stillness", I am really attaching to some idea called "stillness", without realizing that true stillness is the absence of attachment. Stillness can be anywhere and in anything, as long as the mind isn't approaching or rejecting anything. But if my mindset involves reifying stillness into an object of accomplishment, or a kind of goal, then I will only create vexations for myself. 

This is tricky, because anything we call mind is bound to be a concept. But if, instead of trying to achieve this thing called mind, I get out of the way of mind, I find that mind already functions perfectly well in accordance with the cause and conditions. I don't need to "achieve", hold onto, or savor a special kind of mind. Mind is an endless flow of possibilities, and it is unfolding even now as I am typing these words. When, instead of being self-conscious and looking for answers, I faithfully allow the answers to come forth in the everyday flow of experience, then I can directly perceive the emptiness of all phenomena. This does not require an act of seeking to resolve the Great Matter...because to do so is to create a separate subject and object. Instead, it means completely trusting that this mind you experience now is still mind. But even this can become an object of seeking--this so called "non-seeking"!! 

So it's important not to try to make this into a plan of action. Just like right now, I don't know which word will arise next, I am trusting that the moment will provide me with the right words to express something inexpressible. And I didn't need to discuss this with myself. I only had to trust that, "you will have the words that are needed". This is a subtle experience of letting myself get out of the way. Stepping aside and allowing this experience to unfold, to orchestrate itself, to create harmony, without needing to figure it out ahead of time. Perhaps this is one way to understand how we approach meditation practice.

Tolerating Injustice

  During the Dharma talk tonight, ChangYuan Fashi shared his ideas about repentance and how they relate to "tolerating injustice". Whenever I feel distress about something, I might have the idea in my mind that things should be better. I think it's the "should" part ("I should feel secure", "I should be happy", "I should be treated fairly") that leads an otherwise simply unpleasant situation to be a source of suffering. Not only do we feel the pain of insecurity (which is a natural part of being alive) but we add to that the sense that we are entitled to feel secure. In fact, as Fashi pointed out, many unfortunate things happen to us as a result of the ripening of causes and conditions that happened to us in the far distant past or even many lifetimes ago. Since karma is very complex, we can never tell when a negative karmic retribution will ripen. The best attitude is to fully accept the retribution, knowing that we must have incurred it through our previous behaviors, and that it's ultimately impermanent and the result of myriad circumstances, causes and conditions that happen to ripen.

   When I asked Fashi how we deal with fears about the future, he mentioned that repentance helps us to calm down and to stay in the present, rather than imagining a future that hasn't happened. The "future" is often only our own projected image of the past, and the future itself has nothing to do with how we are thinking about it. The fact is, we only need take care of what is happening now in this moment. There is so much that we can't know about the future, so instead of being endlessly anxious about the future, we can ask ourselves, "what can I do now about this?" In this way, the worries become more manageable and less cumbersome. 

  Another point is about regret. "Regret" involves thinking that we should have done one thing instead of another. Again, this can be resolved through the practice of fully repenting and saying wholeheartedly "I am sorry". But we can also practice acceptance of the moment. What we did in the past was the result of the causes and conditions. Why feel regret for what's already passed? Again, working with repentance--wholeheartedly repenting of previous mistakes and accepting the present moment--can be a good way of addressing regrets

Living Whilst Dying

   It's perhaps become a cliche to say that Buddhism (and other religions) teach us how to face death with equanimity. Some religions are doing this by reassuring its practitioners of the afterlife to come, while others help us to meditate on death as a daily practice. What I think is especially challenging is to recognize death in the midst of living. What I mean by this is that the things we work for now are all impermanent and are going to change to something else. It's inevitable and something about life that we need to face. But too much emphasis on "death" can lead to nihilism, despair, or even the desire to stop trying altogether. I have a feeling that his might have been what Freud meant by the "death instinct" (Thanatos). There is some part of us that no longer wants to continue the struggle of life; we even want to crawl back into the womb, because life can be so precarious, uncertain and harsh. Sometimes this even takes the form of not wanting to get out of bed in the morning! Here, I think the challenge is to embrace death as a living presence in our lived experience: to see that life and death are inseparable.

  Without death, there could be no change, and we wouldn't be able to let go of things. We would also ossify around a sense of self that can become quickly outdated. Letting go itself can be invigorating, because it can help us release painful attachments to things that really have nothing to do with who we are. Imagine one of those barbary sheep or reindeer carrying a head of dead horns or antlers--how it feels to shed all those dead accretions and start all over again. It's a relief for us to suffer the death of things that are giving us too much pressure or pain. However, we should also be aware that all of life is loaded with pain and responsibilities. It's important not to make death into a new kind of desire, such as the desire for "no responsibility", no pain, hassles etc, all of which is unrealistic and delusory. Instead, we should always be ready to do whatever we can to preserve the important things around us. This is not because these things are forever, but because going through the experience of cherishment and loss are the ways that we can mature and learn what interconnection is. To me, this is the experience of "Living Whilst Dying" or "Dying Whilst Living".

Daily Softness

   What is a soft attitude toward life, and what does it mean? Is it possible to be "too soft"? Yes, it is possible, I suppose, since we've been brought up to feel that we need to push ourselves hard to in order to achieve and get good results. Too lax an attitude can make us into homeless people who do nothing all day because they didn't push themselves hard enough. Or so they say...

  So where does softness come into it? Is softness something we contrive, or is it something that naturally comes from a changed perspective or attitude?

    Emptiness can be an invitation to softness. If we know that things are based on causes and conditions, we will feel less forceful in our approach to solving a problem or going about understanding something. There are many many reasons why something is what it is and not something else. Before we can even make changes to a situation, we need to contemplate the reasons for the phenomena: why it exists the way it does and not as something else. A butterfly has its own unique causes and conditions, as does the caterpillar, the bird and the bull. Though the caterpillar has a potential to be a butterfly, we can't force it to happen in this way. It needs to unfold through the right factors. A forceful attitude only makes the caterpillar sick and pressured. So the same with everything. 

    Even when we try to adopt this attitude, we may then think: well. I'm being soft and kind, so how come the things around me don't change into the things I want? But this again is an attitude of wanting to control to gain something. Again, the approach is "I plant the seeds, but I don't expect things to grow x way or y way". There are many causes and conditions to consider. Same as when we can't comprehend another person's behavior: we may think, how come they don't behave as I expect? Then we are also imposing an idea on a very complex situation that we may not fully understand. So again, the softness requires that we accept some mystery in how things are unfolding. 

    Gracefully allowing: this is the skill of softness. Get up to have your 4:30 meditation, but is it ok to have a coffee first? Sure! If you need it.