Chapter 8

FACING SUFFERING

In the time of the Buddha, a woman named Kisagotami suffered the death of her only child. Unable to accept it, she ran from person to person, seeking a medicine to restore her child to life. The Buddha was said to have such a medicine.

Kisagotami went to the Buddha, paid homage, and asked, “Can you make a medicine that will restore my child?”

“I know of such a medicine,” the Buddha replied. “But in order to make it, I must have certain ingredients.”

Relieved, the woman asked, “What ingredients do you require?”

“Bring me a handful of mustard seed,” said the Buddha.

The woman promised to procure it for him, but as she was leaving, he added, “I require the mustard seed be taken from a household where no child, spouse, parent, or servant has died.”

The woman agreed and began going from house to house in search of the mustard seed. At each house the people agreed to give her the seed, but when she asked them if anyone had died in that household, she could find no home where death had not visited—in one house a daughter, in another a servant, in others a husband or parent had died. Kisagotami was not able to find a home free from the suffering of death. Seeing she was not alone in her grief, the mother let go of her child’s lifeless body and returned to the Buddha, who said with great compassion, “You thought that you alone had lost a son_; the law of death is that among all living creatures there is no permanence.”

Kisagotami’s search taught her that no one lives free from suffering and loss. She hadn’t been singled out for this terrible misfortune. This insight didn’t eliminate the inevitable suffering that comes from loss, but it did reduce the suffering that came from struggling against this sad fact of life.

Although pain and suffering are universal human phenomena, that doesn’t mean we have an easy time accepting them. Human beings have devised a vast repertoire of strategies for avoiding having to experience suffering. Sometimes we use external means, such as chemicals—deadening and medicating our emotional pain with drugs or alcohol. We have an array of internal mechanisms as well—psychological defenses, often unconscious, that buffer us from feeling too much emotional pain and anguish when we are confronted with problems. Sometimes these defense mechanisms can be quite primitive, such as simply refusing to recognize that a problem exists. At other times, we may vaguely recognize that we have a problem but immerse ourselves in a million distractions or entertainments to avoid thinking about it. Or we might use projection—unable to accept that we have a problem, we unconsciously projectitonto others and blame them for our suffering: “Yeah, I’m miserable. But it’s not me that has the problem; it’s someone else who has the problem. If it wasn’t for that damn boss constantly giving me a hard time [or ”my partner ignoring me“ or ... ], I’d be fine.”

Suffering can only be avoided temporarily. But like a disease that’s left untreated (or perhaps superficially treated with medication that just masks the symptoms but doesn’t cure the underlying condition), the disease invariably festers and worsens. The high from drugs or alcohol certainly eases our pain for a while, but with continued use, the physical damage to our bodies and the social damage to our lives can cause far more suffering than the diffuse dissatisfaction or the acute emotional pain that led us to these substances in the first place. The internal psychological defenses like denial or repression may shield and protect us from feeling the pain a bit longer, but it still doesn’t make the suffering disappear.

Randall lost his father to cancer a little over a year ago. He was quite close to his father, and at the time everyone was surprised by how well he was taking the death. “Of course I’m sad,” he explained in a stoic tone. “But really I’m fine. I’ll miss him, but life goes on. And anyway, I can’t focus on missing him right now; I have to arrange the funeral and take care of his estate for my mom ... But I’ll be fine,” he reassured everyone. One year later, however, shortly after the anniversary of his father’s death, Randall began to spiral into a severe depression. He came to see me and explained, “I just can’t understand what is causing this depression. Everything seems to be going well right now. It can’t be the death of my father_; he died over a year ago, and I’ve already come to terms with his death.” With very little therapy it became clear, however, that in struggling to keep a tight reign on his emotions, in order to “be strong,” he had never fully dealt with his feelings of loss and grief. These feelings continued to grow until finally manifesting as an overpowering depression that he was forced to deal with.

In Randall’s case, his depression lifted rather quickly as we focused on his pain and feelings of loss, and he was able to fully confront and experience his grief. Sometimes, however, our unconscious strategies to avoid facing our problems are more deep-seated—deeply ingrained coping mechanisms that can become embedded in our personality and are hard to extract. Most of us know a friend, acquaintance, or family member, for example, who avoids problems by projecting onto others and blaming them—accusing others of having faults that, in fact, are his or her own. This certainly isn’t an effective method of eliminating problems, however, and many of these individuals are condemned to a lifetime of unhappiness as long as they continue in that pattern.

 

 

 

The Dalai Lama detailed his approach to human suffering—an approach that ultimately includes a belief in the possibility of freedom from suffering but starts with accepting suffering as a natural fact of human existence, and courageously facing our problems head-on.

 

 

 

In our daily lives problems are bound to arise. The biggest problems in our lives are the ones that we inevitably have to face, like old age, illness, and death. Trying to avoid our problems or simply not thinking about them may provide temporary relief, but I think that there is a better approach. If you directly confront your suffering, you will be in a better position to appreciate the depth and nature of the problem. If you are in a battle, as long as you remain ignorant of the status and combat capability of your enemy, you will be totally unprepared and paralyzed by fear. However, if you know the fighting capability of your opponents, what sort of weapons they have and so on, then you’re in a much better position when you engage in the war. In the same way, if you confront your problems rather than avoid them, you will be in a better position to deal with them.“

This approach to one’s problems was clearly reasonable, but pressing the issue a bit further, I asked, “Yes, but what if you directly confront a problem, and find out that there’s no solution? That’s pretty tough to face.”

“But I think it’s still better to face it,” he replied with a martial spirit. “For example, you might consider things like old age and death as negative, unwanted, and simply try to forget about them. But eventually these things will come anyway. And if you’ve avoided thinking about these things, when the day comes that any of these events occur, it will come as a shock causing an unbearable mental uneasiness. However, if you spend some time thinking about old age, death, and these other unfortunate things, your mind will be much more stable when these things happen as you have already become acquainted with these problems and kinds of suffering and have anticipated that they will occur.

“That’s why I believe it can be useful to prepare yourself ahead of time by familiarizing yourself with the kinds of suffering you might encounter. To use the battle analogy again, reflecting on suffering could be seen as a military exercise. People who never heard of war, guns, bombing, and so on might faint if they had to go into battle. But through military drills you could familiarize your mind with what might occur, so if a war erupted, it would not be so hard on you.”

“Well, I can see how familiarizing ourselves with the kinds of suffering we might encounter would have some value in reducing fear and apprehension, but it still seems that sometimes certain dilemmas present no option but the possibility of suffering. How can we avoid worry in those circumstances?”

“A dilemma such as?”

I stopped to consider. “Well, let’s say, for example, that a woman is pregnant and they do an amniocentesis or sonogram and find out that the child will have a significant birth defect. They discover that the child will have some extreme mental or physical handicap. So, obviously the woman is filled with anxiety because she doesn’t know what to do. She can choose to do something about the situation and get an abortion, to save the baby from a life of suffering, but then she will experience a feeling of great loss and pain and perhaps she will also experience other feelings such as guilt. Or, she can choose to let nature take its course and have the baby. But then, she may be faced with a lifetime of hardship and suffering for herself and the child.”

The Dalai Lama listened intently as I spoke. With a somewhat wistful tone, he replied, “Whether one approaches these problems from the Western or the Buddhist perspective, these kinds of dilemmas are very difficult, very difficult. Now your example regarding the decision to abort the fetus with a birth defect—nobody really knows what would be better in the long run. Even if a child is born with a defect, maybe in the long run it would be better for the mother or the family or the child itself. But also there’s the possibility that taking into account the long-term consequences, it is better to abort_; maybe that could be more positive in the long run. But then who decides? It’s very difficult. Even from the Buddhist viewpoint, that sort of judgment is beyond our rational ability.” He paused, then added, “I think, though, that their background and beliefs would play a role in how particular individuals might respond to this kind of difficult situation ...”

We sat in silence.

Shaking his head, he finally said, “By reflecting on the types of sufferingthatwe are subjectto, you can mentally prepare for these things ahead of time to some degree, by reminding yourself about the fact that you may come across these kinds of dilemmatic situations in your life. So you can prepare yourself mentally. But you should not forget the fact that this does not alleviate the situation. It may help you mentally cope with it, reduce the fear and so on, but it does not alleviate the problem itself. For instance, if a child with a birth defect is going to be born, no matter how strongly you thought about it ahead of time, you still have to find a way to handle it. So this is still difficult.”

As he said this there was a note of sadness in his voice—more than a note, perhaps a chord. But the underlying melody was not one of hopelessness. For a full minute, the Dalai Lama stopped speaking once again, gazing out the window as if looking out onto the world at large, then continued, “There’s really no avoiding the fact that suffering is part of life. And of course we have a natural tendency to dislike our suffering and problems. But I think that ordinarily people don’t view the very nature of our existence to be characterized by suffering ...” The Dalai Lama suddenly began to laugh, “I mean on your birthday people usually say, ‘Happy Birthday!,’ when actually the day of your birth was the birth of your suffering. But nobody says, ‘Happy Birth-of-Sufferingday!” he joked.

“In accepting that suffering is part of your daily existence, you could begin by examining the factors that normally give rise to feelings of discontent and mental unhappiness. Generally speaking, for instance, you feel happy if you or people close to you receive praise, fame, fortune, and other pleasant things. And you feel unhappy and discontent if you don’t achieve these things or if your rival is receiving them. If you look at your normal day-to day life, however, you often find that there are so many factors and conditions that cause pain, suffering, and feelings of dissatisfaction, whereas the conditions that give rise to joy and happiness are comparatively rare. This is something that we have to undergo, whether we like it or not. And since this is the reality of our existence, our attitude towards suffering may need to be modified. Our attitude towards suffering becomes very important because it can affect how we cope with suffering when it arises. Now, our usual attitude consists of an intense aversion and intolerance of our pain and suffering. However, if we can transform our attitude towards suffering, adopt an attitude that allows us greater tolerance of it, then this can do much to help counteract feelings of mental unhappiness, dissatisfaction, and discontent.

“For me personally, the strongest and most effective practice to help tolerate suffering is to see and understand that suffering is the underlying nature of Samsara,⁴ of unenlightened exis ence. Now when you experience some physical pain or other problem, of course at that moment there is a feeling of ‘Oh! This suffering is so bad!’ There’s a feeling of rejection associated with the suffering, a kind of feeling of ‘Oh, I shouldn’t be experiencing this.’But at that moment if you can look at the situation from another angle and realize that this very body...,“ he slapped an arm in demonstration, ”is the very basis of suffering, then this reduces that feeling of rejection—that feeling that somehow you don’t deserve to suffer, that you are a victim. So, once you understand and accept this reality, then you experience suffering as something that is quite natural.

“So, for example, when dealing with the suffering the Tibetan people have undergone, in one way you could look at the situation and feel overwhelmed, wondering, ‘How in the world has this happened?’ But from another angle you could reflect on the fact that Tibet also is in the middle of Samsara,” he laughed, “as is this planet and the whole galaxy.” He laughed again.

“So, anyway, I think that how you perceive life as a whole plays a role in your attitude about suffering. For instance, if your basic outlook is that suffering is negative and must be avoided at all costs and in some sense is a sign of failure, this will add a distinct psychological component of anxiety and intolerance when you encounter difficult circumstances, a feeling of being overwhelmed. On the other hand, if your basic outlook accepts that suffering is a natural part of your existence, this will undoubtedly make you more tolerant towards the adversities of life. And without a certain degree of tolerance towards your suffering, your life becomes miserable; then it’s like having a very bad night. That night seems eternal_; it never seems to end.”

“It seems to me that when you speak about the underlying nature of existence as being characterized by suffering, as basically unsatisfactory, that sounds like a pretty pessimistic view, really discouraging in fact,” I noted.

The Dalai Lama quickly clarified, “When I speak of the unsatisfactory nature of existence, one needs to understand that this is in the context of the overall Buddhist path. These reflections have to be understood in their proper context, which is within the framework of the Buddhist path. Unless this view of suffering is seen in its proper context, I agree that there is a danger, or even a likelihood, of misunderstanding this type of approach as being rather pessimistic and negative. Consequently, it’s important to understand the basic Buddhist stance towards the whole issue of suffering. We find that in Buddha’s own public teachings, the first thing he taught was the principle of the Four Noble Truths, the first of which is the Truth of Suffering. And here, a lot of emphasis is placed on the realization of the suffering nature of one’s existence.

“The point that has to be borne in mind is that the reason why reflection on suffering is so important is because there is a possibility of a way out_; there is an alternative. There is a Possibility of freedom from suffering. By removing the causes of suffering, it is possible to attain a state of Liberation, a state free from suffering. According to Buddhist thought, the root causes of suffering are ignorance, craving, and hatred. These are called the ‘three poisons of the mind.’These terms have specific connotations when used within a Buddhist context. For example, ‘ignorance’ doesn’t refer to a lack of information as it is used in an everyday sense but rather refers to a fundamental misperception of the true nature of the self and all phenomena. By generating insight into the true nature of reality and eliminating afflictive states of mind such as craving and hatred, one can achieve a completely purified state of mind, free from suffering. Within a Buddhist context, when one reflects on the fact that one’s ordinary day-to-day existence is characterized by suffering, this serves to encourage one to engage in the practices that will eliminate the root causes of one’s suffering. Otherwise, if there was no hope, or no possibility of freedom from suffering, mere reflection on suffering just becomes morbid thinking, and would be quite negative.”

 

 

 

As he spoke, I began to sense how reflecting on our “suffering nature” could play a role in accepting life’s inevitable sorrows and could even be a valuable method of putting our daily problems in proper perspective. And I began to perceive how suffering might even be seen in a wider context, as part of a greater spiritual path, particularly in view of the Buddhist paradigm, which recognizes the possibility of purifying the mind and ultimately achieving a state in which there is no more suffering. But, turning away from these grand philosophical speculations, I was curious to learn how the Dalai Lama dealt with suffering on a more personal level, how he handled the loss of a loved one, for instance.

When I first visited Dharamsala many years ago, I had gotten to know the Dalai Lama’s older brother, Lobsang Samden. I became quite fond of him and was saddened to hear of his sudden death a few years back. Knowing that he and the Dalai Lama were particularly close, I said, “I imagine that the death of your brother Lobsang was very hard on you ...”

“Yes.”

“I was just wondering how you handled that.”

“Of course, I was very, very sad when I learned of his death,” he said quietly.

“And how did you deal with that feeling of sadness? I mean was there something in particular that helped you get over it?”

“I don’t know,” he said pensively. “I felt that feeling of sadness for some weeks, but that feeling gradually lifted. Still, there was a feeling of regret ...”

“Regret?”

“Yes. I was gone at the time he died, and I think if I had been there, maybe there was something I could have done to help. So I have this feeling of regret.”

A lifetime of contemplating the inevitability of human suffering may have played a role in helping the Dalai Lama accept his loss, but it did not create a cold emotionless individual with grim resignation in the face of suffering—the sadness in his voice revealed a man with deep human feeling. At the same time, his candor and frankness of manner, completely devoid of self-pity or self-recrimination, created the unmistakable impression of a man who had fully accepted his loss.

On that day, our conversation had lasted well into the late afternoon. Daggers of golden light, cutting through wooden shutters, were slowly advancing across the darkening room. I sensed a melancholy atmosphere pervading the room and knew that our discussion was coming to the end. Yet I hoped to question him in greater detail about the issue of loss, to see if he had additional advice about how to survive the death of a loved one, other than simply accepting the inevitability of human suffering.

As I was about to expand on the subject, however, he appeared somewhat distracted, and I noticed a cast of weariness around his eyes. Shortly, his secretary quietly entered the room and gave me The Look: honed by years of practice, it indicated that it was time to leave.

“Yes ... ,” the Dalai Lama said apologetically, “perhaps we should close ... I’m a bit tired.”

The next day, before I had an opportunity to return to the subject in our private conversations, the issue was raised in his public talk. An audience member, clearly in pain, asked the Dalai Lama, “Do you have any suggestions about how to handle a great personal loss, such as the loss of a child?”

With a gentle tone of compassion, he answered, “To some degree, that depends on people’s personal beliefs. If people believe in rebirth, then accordingly, I think there is some way to reduce sorrow or worry. They can take consolation in the fact that their loved one will be reborn.

“For those people who do not believe in rebirth, then I think there are still some simple ways to help deal with the loss. First, they could reflect that if they worried too much, allowing themselves to be too overwhelmed by the sense of loss and sorrow, and if they carried on with that feeling of being overwhelmed, not only would it be very destructive and harmful to themselves, ruining their health, but also it would not have any benefit to the person who has passed away.

“For example, in my own case, I have lost my most respected tutor, my mother, and also one of my brothers. When they passed away, of course, I felt very, very sad. Then I constantly kept thinking that it’s no use to worry too much, and if I really loved these people, then I must fulfill their wishes with a calm mind. So I try my best to do that. So I think if you’ve lost someone who is very dear to you, that’s the proper way to approach it. You see, the best way to keep a memory of that person, the best remembrance, is to see if you can carry on the wishes of that person.

“Initially, of course, feelings of grief and anxiety are a natural human response to a loss. But if you allow these feelings of loss and worry to persist, there’s a danger_; if these feelings are left unchecked, they can lead to a kind of self-absorption. A situation where the focus becomes your own self. And when that happens you become overwhelmed by the sense of loss, and you get a feeling that it’s only you who is going through this. Depression sets in. But in reality, there are others who will be going through the same kind of experience. So, if you find yourself worrying too much, it may help to think of the other people who have similar or even worse tragedies. Once you realize that, then you no longer feel isolated, as if you have been single-pointedly picked out. That can offer you some kind of condolence.”

 

 

 

Although pain and suffering are experienced by all human beings, I have often felt that those brought up in some Eastern cultures appear to have a greater acceptance and tolerance for suffering. Part of this may be due to their beliefs, but perhaps it is because suffering is more visible in poorer nations such as India than it is in wealthier countries. Hunger, poverty, illness, and death are in plain view. When a person becomes old or sick, they aren’t marginalized, shipped off to nursing homes to be cared for by health professionals—they remain in the community, to be cared for by the family. Those living in daily contact with the realities of life cannot easily deny that life is characterized by suffering, that it is a natural part of existence.

As Western society gained the ability to limit the suffering caused by harsh living conditions, it seems to have lost the ability to cope with the suffering that remains. Studies by social scientists have emphasized that most people in modern Western society tend to go through life believing that the world is basically a nice place in which to live, that life is mostly fair, and that they are good people who deserve to have good things happen to them. These beliefs can play an important role in leading a happier and healthier life. But the inevitable arising of suffering undermines these beliefs and can make it difficult to go on living happily and effectively. In this context, a relatively minor trauma can have a massive psychological impact as one loses faith in one’s basic beliefs about the world as fair and benevolent. As a result, suffering is intensified.

There’s no doubt that with growing technology, the general level of physical comfort has improved for many in Western society. It is at this point that a critical shift in perception takes place_; as suffering becomes less visible, it is no longer seen as part of the fundamental nature of human beings—but rather as an anomaly, a sign that something has gone terribly wrong, a sign of “failure” of some system, an infringement on our guaranteed right to happiness!

This kind of thinking poses hidden dangers. If we think of suffering as something unnatural, something that we shouldn’t be experiencing, then it’s not much of a leap to begin to look for someone to blame for our suffering. If I’m unhappy, then I must be the “victim” of someone or something—an idea that’s all to common in the West. The victimizer may be the government, the educational system, abusive parents, a “dysfunctional family,” the other gender, or our uncaring mate. Or we may turn blame inward: there’s something wrong with me, I’m the victim of disease, of defective genes perhaps. But the risk of continuing to focus on assigning blame and maintaining a victim stance, is the perpetuation of our suffering—with persistent feelings of anger, frustration, and resentment.

Of course, the wish to get free of suffering is the legitimate goal of every human being. It is the corollary of our wish to be happy. Thus it is entirely appropriate that we seek out the causes of our unhappiness and do whatever we can to alleviate our problems, searching for solutions on all levels—global, societal, familial, and individual. But as long as we view suffering as an unnatural state, an abnormal condition that we fear, avoid, and reject, we will never uproot the causes of suffering and begin to live a happier life.