Into the Heart of Life (13 page)

6

The Six Perfections

In a traditional Buddhist country, the main practitioners are usually monks and nuns. Therefore the Dharma discourses are aimed at those who have more or less devoted their lives to the practice of the spiritual path. Monastics usually have more time. Even if they live in a monastery where there are many things to do, they still have far fewer distractions than those in the household life. Monastics don’t have a family life or close relationships; they don’t need to succeed in a career; they don’t have an outside social life; nor do they have television and other entertainments. The monastic life is usually centered around a study program, meditation retreats, or the performance of rituals.

However, nowadays in the West this situation is completely reversed. Most Dharma audiences are made up of lay people. That means they probably are in close relationships—they might be married, they might have children or parents for whom they are responsible. They have professions and a social life. How much time is left over for study, meditation, and prayer? In this we find a profound difference between the lives of monastics and lay people.

If we present Buddhism as a path of meditation and formal practice—meaning the time when we go to the temple or to the Dharma center, the time when we are actually sitting in meditation, doing our rituals or whatever—we might think of the rest of the day as so much a waste of time, a hindrance to our practice. But as lay people, the amount of time we are able to give to formal practice is too small to effect a real radical change if for the rest of the day our mind is totally distracted. It is not enough if we use only half an hour or so a day trying to get our mind together. So we have to re-examine the whole situation. In order to really actualize an inner transformation, an inner change, we have to realize that everything we do, every encounter we have, every breath we take, if done with genuine awareness and understanding, is the practice of Dharma.

Far from being an obstacle to our practice, our relationships and careers when used skillfully
are
the practice. Merging or integrating our daily life and the spiritual path, we can realize that the two are one if done with sufficient awareness and appreciation. In order to explain this, I use the six paramitas as a kind of basic structure, because they include all levels of practice. We will deal first with generosity, and go on to discuss ethics, patience, and enthusiastic effort or perseverance. Finally, we will come to meditation and wisdom.

Dana paramita, or generosity

The Buddha put
dana,
which means “giving,” or “generosity,” in Sanskrit, at the very beginning of the bodhisattva path because it is something we all can do. However deluded we may be, however angry we may be, however jealous or greedy we may be, we can still give. It is a very basic quality. We don’t need to attain any spiritual heights to learn how to give. Giving means to open up the hands and heart. It is a very beautiful way to respond to others.

In Asia, people understand very well this whole quality of open-hearted giving and generosity. It is based on the understanding that if we want to be prosperous and successful not only now but in our future lives, we have to plant seeds. We are not going to get a harvest if we don’t plant seeds. The seeds for prosperity are generosity and giving. Therefore, if we want to have success, we have to create the causes for that. If we have a hard time getting money, if we are always ending up very poor, it is because we haven’t created enough causes through open-heartedness and generosity in the past. The Buddha said that if people understood the true future benefits of giving, they would not keep even one meal to themselves. They would try to share that meal, too. But because we don’t see future results, we think, “If I give something away, then what will I have? What will be left for me?” That kind of mind not only cuts off our generous impulses, it also creates the causes for not being prosperous later.

It is a joy to give! It is the closed-mindedness of “This is me; this is mine; and I am not giving to anyone else” which causes us so much inner pain and prevents us from really appreciating what we have. You see, it isn’t the things we own which are the problem; it’s our clinging to them, our grasping, which is the problem.

Do things own us, or do we own them? Are we able to hold things lightly, so that when we see someone in need or just feel appreciation, we can give? In India, I had a friend who was a Hindu swami, and he lived in a very simple ashram not so far from our nunnery. He was actually a direct disciple of the great Indian sage Ramana Maharshi who was from south India. Our friend the swami had many disciples from all over India and from abroad. But he lived very simply. People were always bringing him things that were rarely seen, and so very appreciated, in India. And yet when anybody gave him anything, no matter what it was, his first thought was, “Who would be a good person for me to give this to?”

Nothing stuck to his fingers. Whatever he was holding would slide off into somebody else’s hands. And he was happy, because his life was one of continual receiving and handing over. There was no accumulation. There was no having to carry his possessions and his fear of losing them as a heavy burden on his back. But all this is not to say that you should go home and clear out all your things. Rather the point is opening the heart, really being able to rejoice in giving to others, and not just material things. Material things are good to start with, but we can also give our time and our sympathy. We can be there for others when they need us. We can give our fearlessness.

In Buddhist parlance, there are three kinds of giving. First, there is the giving of material gifts. Second, there is the gift of the Dharma. That means being there for others, listening to them, trying to help them, even trying to help them clarify their minds a little bit by giving advice. And then there is also the gift of fearlessness, of being a means of protection, and helping others to discover their own inner courage—to give that to someone is a priceless gift.

We can start to give in simple ways by developing this quality of being conscious of others and of their needs. We can give joy and pleasure through our intention to help others. Not giving only at Christmas or on birthdays or when we are visiting, but giving spontaneously—we see something we like, and we give it to somebody, maybe even to somebody we don’t like. Giving to people whom we don’t like is a beautiful way to relate to others. The Buddha stressed the importance of generosity—this quality of joy in giving to others and not always holding to the sense of “what can I get for me.”

Traditionally, there are three different kinds of recipients of giving that are recommended for us. First, one can offer to those whom one regards in some way as worthy of gifts. That means, in Buddhist parlance, the buddhas and bodhisattvas. It means the monastic sangha; it means one’s spiritual teacher or any teacher whom one regards as an inspiration and spiritual superior. We offer out of honor and respect.

The second group of recipients can include those to whom we give because of our gratitude, and that particularly means our parents. It also means our teachers, and anyone who has helped us in any way. We are grateful. This quality of honoring, of gratitude and respect, has become so denigrated in our present world, and it is one of the reasons why our society is disintegrating. We don’t inculcate in our children these qualities of the heart.

Some children abuse and badmouth their parents. But without our parents, we would not be here. Our human birth depends on our parents. When we were born, our parents looked at us and did not say, “Yuck, what a horrible pink worm!” and throw us away. Our parents cleaned us; they changed our nappies; they fed us; they soothed us when we cried. Without our parents we wouldn’t be alive today. It doesn’t matter how hopeless we might think our parents are. They are human beings and have their good points and failings like everyone else. Our parents were always there for us when we were small, and they loved us. So we owe them an immense debt of gratitude.

And then there are our teachers—we wouldn’t be able to read and write or know anything if it were not for these people who taught us, who showed us how to think, how to learn. We should be so grateful. We should really thank them from our hearts for what they gave us. Why are we critical? Society is very difficult, especially with the young nowadays. It has become very demanding, judgmental, and selfish. There is little gratitude.

And third, we can give to those on account of their needs—the poor and the sick, or anyone who is especially needy. It’s nice to give your coat to your best friend, but it’s more meaningful to give it to someone who doesn’t have a coat and is cold. Giving appropriately to those who really are in need is very basic. Sometimes, what people need is just attention. They need someone who hears their pain and doesn’t just dismiss it.

The quality of our lives, whether we are closed-hearted or open-hearted, depends on us. Therefore, the first gesture of an open heart is generosity.

Shila paramita, or ethics

The second perfection is
shila paramita,
or ethics. In Sanskrit,
shila
means “ethics”; it means moral conduct. In the Buddhadharma, moral conduct is based on the principle of harmlessness, of not hurting oneself or others. Seen in that way, the precepts laid down by the Buddha are very logical. These are not commandments. He didn’t say, “Thou shall not do this; thou shall not do that.” The actual wording of the first precept says, “I undertake the rule of training to abstain from the taking of life.” It is a rule of training based on the spontaneous and natural conduct of an enlightened being, an
arhat
. A liberated arhat will naturally be incapable of intentionally taking life. We try to model our conduct on the natural conduct of a liberated being, because if we want to build our house, if we want to build our spiritual temple, it’s no good just concentrating on the golden roof and the frescoed walls. We have to start by establishing a deep, strong foundation. Any building with a weak foundation is going to crack and fall very soon. It doesn’t matter how splendid that golden roof may be. If we want to build a good house, we have to deal with the foundation and the plumbing and all those unromantic essentials. If we have a very good solid foundation, then the house will quite quickly be built.

Our foundations are the qualities of basic ethical conduct that find expression through our way of living in this world. These precepts were laid down 2,500 years ago, but they are eternal. They are not something that was relevant two millennia ago in northern India but no longer appropriate for us now in Australia, Brazil, Italy, the United States, or wherever else. They are relevant in any time, any place, and for any race of people. As mentioned earlier in the chapter on renunciation, these five basic ethical precepts are not to take life, not to take what is not given, not to lie, not to engage in sexual misconduct, and not to indulge in alcohol or drugs which intoxicate the mind. Let us now deepen our exploration of these precepts.

The first precept, and the one most fundamental for living in this world harmlessly, is the precept not to take life. Now that means all lives, not just human lives. It means the lives of animals and insects, including those in the air, on the ground, under the ground, and in the oceans and rivers. Why? Because for each being its own life is most precious. No being wants to be killed. If there was a little ant on this table and I tapped near it with my fingers, it would rear up and run in the other direction. Why? Because in its own way it is thinking, “There is danger! Something might harm me; I must go away from that.”