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RENOUNCING SUFFERING

1ST: RENOUNCE LIKE A WOUNDED DEER

By discarding riches as one would spit out saliva, and desiring solitude and remaining in the wilderness, those who give up afflictions and overcome obstacles will realize stainless, unconditioned awakening.

Buddhas and bodhisattvas as numerous as grains of sand in the Ganga—

whoever pays them homage for millions of eons, and one day renounces household life with great weariness—

that person is supreme.

—CHAPTER 5

IF YOUR CLOTHES caught fire and you felt the flames singeing your hair and burning your skin, you would quickly search for water to put out the fire. The Buddha tells us to give up worldly life with this same speed. With renunciation in our hearts, we go to a place of solitude like a wounded deer bedding down to heal. The pain of our impermanent lives is great, and our need to realize stainless, unconditioned awakening is also great.

In solitude we have fewer distractions and greater space to cultivate positivity. The Buddha clearly explains the benefits of going into isolation. There is less activity of the body. There are fewer distractions of the mind. There are none of the tensions that arise from debating others. There are less harmful forces. There are fewer factors that can stir up negative emotions. One becomes calmer. Discipline is naturally present. In solitude, you truly wish to practice the Dharma. In solitude, you liberate yourself.

I have opened wide the door to bliss:

I have explained the nature of phenomena as it is

and taught exactly how rebirth comes about

as well as the benefits of nirvana.

If you consistently discard unvirtuous friends

and rely on a spiritual master;

avoid crowds and remain in forest dwellings;

continuously cultivate a loving mind;

always keep pure discipline;

take joy in training and always exert yourself;

and practice generosity and wisdom,

you will have no difficulty in obtaining this samadhi.

—CHAPTER 4

In the Foundational Vehicle of the early Buddhist traditions, the Buddha mostly refers to the practices of monks who renounce worldly life and physically isolate themselves from it. There isn’t much mention of householders gaining spiritual accomplishment. It is true that from a practical point of view, the life of a monk is beneficial for training. A monk has less outer work and fewer responsibilities. He therefore naturally has less attachment and a better chance of realizing the truth. If you have many things to do, you cannot focus one-pointedly on the Dharma. It is a fact that wherever you direct your attention is where you gain success.

2ND: RENOUNCE LIKE A DREAMING KING

Whereas the Foundational Vehicle emphasizes physical renunciation of worldly life, in the Great Vehicle, renunciation has to do with acknowledging that samsara is like a dream: This type of renunciation is entwined with the understanding of the ultimate truth of emptiness. When you gain the experiential understanding that ultimately you never die and are never born, and that you would never find the actual essences of things even if you were to search for them for centuries, then there is nothing worldly to be attached to whatsoever. Through study, reflection, and meditation, you will eventually come to experience this directly.

We are enmeshed in the karmic effects of our activities because we do not realize the ultimate view. Consequently, each of us experiences the results of our positive and negative actions. When we renounce according to the Mahayana, we renounce clinging to ourselves and to substantiality altogether in order to gain the liberation that allows us to benefit others.

Giving up even my own self, I will accomplish the benefit of beings.

—CHAPTER 30

Personally, I am a householder, married with a wife and children. Yet the Buddha told us to abandon everything, to literally fear home. When we hear these teachings, we sometimes think, “I will try my best.” If we strictly follow the scriptures, we can have the sense that despite being attracted to the Buddha’s teachings, we aren’t really practicing correctly because we aren’t monastics. We can have the feeling that we can’t possibly advance our spiritual path given our lifestyle. A tension arises by the idea of renouncing our family, which makes us feel distressed and frustrated. This seems to be wrong, and yet so much of the Buddha’s teaching seems right. Given that the core of the Buddhist teachings is nonattachment, we may wonder how we can reconcile practicing as a layperson when we bear such tremendous responsibility for our loved ones. The important thing to understand here is that nonattachment has nothing to do with withholding love from our families or abandoning our responsibility to them.

On the level of the vinaya, which are the Buddha’s teachings pertaining to the conduct of monks, the physical and verbal objects and expressions of attachment are what must be cut. Renunciation within this context refers to the idea that if you like something, you should get away from it. Therefore, in the vinaya you will not find a monk-king or a monk-businessman. In the Mahayana teachings, however, practice focuses more on inner conduct, or motivation. Nonattachment may still be reflected in outer dress and behavior, but we often see examples of lay people who are awakened beings, such as bodhisattva kings, who broaden our understanding of nonattachment beyond leaving behind worldly possessions. Though monks are forbidden in the vinaya from touching gold, Nagarjuna himself is said to have changed iron into gold in order to support his monasteries. There are many stories like this. They show that on the bodhisattva level, nonattachment has to do with the mind.

During the time of the Buddha, King Indrabhuti confessed that he could not give up worldly life. Indrabhuti had a massive kingdom and many subjects, all of whom depended upon him and his skill as a ruler. The Buddha told the king that it was indeed possible to be a ruler and still develop renunciation and taught him the essential meaning of renunciation. Indrabhuti took this essential meaning and integrated it into his life without abandoning his responsibilities to the people who depended upon him.

Generally, renunciation is associated with “abandoning,” but in this context it can also mean “being free.” We “abandon” everything, but we need not literally dispense with all our material possessions. If we tossed away our house and clothes and coffee machine, it’s possible we would create positive conditions for practice—but this is not a practical option for most people. Instead, what we must take to heart is that when we hear the word renunciation, we should think freedom.

The Tibetan emperor King Trisong Detsen had three sons, and each ruled the kingdom while receiving teachings from Padmasambhava, who is credited with bringing many of the Buddhist teachings originally to Tibet. Despite being surrounded by princely wealth and power, they were practicing nonattachment because their minds were set on awakening, on “freedom.” They worked toward awakening, not for themselves, but for all beings. So as long as you keep in your heart the thought “I want to achieve awakening for the sake of all beings,” you will always be practicing the essential meaning of renunciation.

As you progress in your understanding, nonattachment can become complicated, because the thought “I really want to get out of samsara” is ultimately an obscuration. If you really want to get away from something, it shows that you have aversion to some thing. It shows that you still believe in substantiality. It shows that you don’t see that there is nothing in reality to get away from. The moment you recognize there is ultimately nothing to abandon is when you find genuine freedom and nonattachment. Through training in samadhi, you will give rise to this recognition.

3RD: CHECK YOUR RENUNCIATION THROUGH THE EIGHT WORLDLY CONCERNS

Untarnished by the eight worldly concerns,

their body is pure and their actions immaculate.

They have few desires, firm contentment,

and no attachment. They possess the buddhas’ qualities.

—CHAPTER 17

This passage refers to the qualities of bodhisattva mahasattvas, great practitioners who have advanced on the path of awakening. Success in the practice of samadhi is intimately connected with our conduct. Proper conduct improves our ability to gain meditative insight. Conduct means the way we deal with the eight worldly concerns. The eight worldly concerns are the desire for fame, praise, happiness, and material gain, and conversely, the wish to avoid insignificance, criticism, suffering, and loss. If you take a look at the eight worldly concerns, you will see that on a fundamental level they all come down to aversion, attachment, and ignorance. Anything worldly has to do with these three feelings.

The great masters of the past have said that the eight worldly concerns are what show us our progress along the path of abandoning desire. The normal world does not consider desire to necessarily be a negative thing, but the spiritual world, the world of meditators, acknowledges that desire always eventually brings pain.

We can check the progress of our practice on several levels. These are the view level, the motivation level, the meditation level, the conduct level, and the fruition level. When great practitioners of samadhi evaluate their renunciation, their question is: “How much ego-clinging is present in my daily life?” If ego-clinging is as strong as the last time they checked, then they can tell that their practice has not improved, or some aspect of the practice has not been addressed. On the level of motivation, these practitioners look inward to see what is driving their practice. At the level of meditation, practitioners of samadhi check how much distraction and dullness is present during a session and evaluate their ability to apply the antidotes to overcoming these difficulties. On the level of conduct, they check the strength of their mindfulness that guards against the eight worldly concerns. When it comes to the level of fruition or result, they check whether they have great hope to achieve realization or fear of losing realization. If hope or fear are present, then they clearly have not achieved fruition. Now, if they are able to proceed toward the result but remain unattached within that aspiration, then that is the genuine approach to fruition. This is the question we should ask ourselves: “Am I maintaining the state that is free from attachment to the result?”

I will be honest—if you really have the strong resolve to be unattached to the eight worldly concerns, then you are a good practitioner. Conversely, if you have neither the wish nor intention to throw off the eight worldly concerns, but you still want to practice samadhi, you are a poor practitioner. The ancient Tibetan Kadampa masters were superior practitioners with incredibly powerful mind training (lojong). They worked their minds until they became completely flexible, until they could toss out the desire for gain as though it were spit. The foundation for their training originated in India, stemming from the Mahayana scriptures, such as the instructions in this King of Meditation Sutra.

Truthfully, you cannot practice the path without detaching from the desire for fame and respect. You cannot practice the path correctly if you hanker after praise and gain. Your samadhi will simply not improve if you remain attached to these wishes.

This topic does not apply only to Dharma practitioners. Everyone struggles with the eight worldly concerns—this is why they are called “worldly.” Most people want respect, praise, or money in order to improve their lives. When they have money, they want increased fame and reputation. If we don’t keenly observe the ferocity of these underlying motivations as we begin to engage in spiritual practice, then spirituality itself becomes the tool by which we feed aversion and attachment.

Aversion and attachment are not so difficult to see. Somebody says, “Oh, you are very handsome.” Right away, you like it. Of course, you can try not to like it, but you do like it. Likewise, if someone says you are ugly, immediately you feel upset. If you are a practitioner, your training might prevent the arising of full-blown anger, but you may still experience difficulty managing your emotions for a short time. Such moments can be windows into how our practice is going. The next time someone insults you, compliments you, or ignores you, look directly at your reaction and observe your emotions.

Seeking no gain and fearing no loss;

desiring no pleasure, opposing no displeasure;

enjoying no praise, disliking no blame;

coveting no happiness and avoiding no suffering.

—CHAPTER 1

Our attachment to the eight worldly concerns becomes more subtle and sneaky as we advance along the path. For me, since I am now a teacher many people prostrate to me, so it appears I am somehow special. On top of this, people often praise me and tell me I am a great person. As we progress along the path, people will recognize the qualities that come from the Dharma and equate those qualities with you as a person. This becomes a strong cause for attachment among advanced practitioners. However, if you look at many ancient Buddhist treatises, you can see right away that their authors are often self-deprecating. These masters say, “I am not a great writer. I wrote this just to benefit myself, but if anybody else benefits I will be quite happy.” They never praise their own qualities or even hint at the eloquence of the text they have composed. This shows that they are maintaining the essence of the practice.

Tibetan masters remain so mindful of the threat of the eight worldly concerns that sometimes when two realized lamas enter a shrine room together, they will argue with each other, each trying to persuade the other to take the higher meditation seat.

Whoever does not have excessive attachment

to this hollow life and limb

has vanquished the host of maras

and will reach awakening at the foot of the Bodhi tree.

The body is empty and selfless,

and life is a dream, tremulous as a drop of morning dew.

—CHAPTER 22

I was recently in a movie theater, and everyone around me was crying. A woman a few rows away was sniffling, and the man beside her had tears in his eyes. I observed everyone—for two hours they were completely stuck in the film. They were totally attached to what was happening two-dimensionally in front of them. When we watch a movie, we drink in the emotions of the characters. Though we see a screen and acknowledge that the people in the story are actors, we still cry! Our emotional response is quite independent from our reasoning.

Ultimately, emotions are a display of ignorance. You might ask, “Really? Every emotion?” To which I would reply, “In a sense, yes.” Whether an emotion is positive or negative, it is a blind movement of the mind—it is a reaction. I have many emotions. I know that these emotions are happening, but I keep having them because the continuum of thought is never-ending. If we don’t work with our minds, then our habits are refreshed all of the time, and their grooves deepen. If you reduce your thinking, it will be difficult for habits to solidify. What is nourishing your lust, for example? Would you experience the actual sensation of lust if not for a desirous thought? Gross and subtle thought determines emotions. Nonattachment to thought reduces emotional reactivity.

Renunciation, meditation, and compassion are necessary if we are to reduce the potency of thoughts. A genuine practitioner skillfully and unceasingly integrates these three components together. But in order to do this, you must understand what they are. If you are completely caught up in the idea of renunciation and meanwhile mistreat your partner, saying, “It is because of you that I am caught in samsara!” then you have missed the point. You are here because of your attachment. You mistreat your partner because of attachment.

Sometimes I feel as though many of us do not know how to balance these teachings. One day I will die, and I can’t take my family with me. I cannot, as the Chinese emperors or Egyptian pharaohs of the past thought, carry my wife and possessions into the afterlife. When I think about death, renunciation naturally happens. I don’t like to think about the fact that I will naturally detach from all that I have accumulated in this world, but what to do? If it is the way things actually are, we have to think about it.

When you try to change too much of the Buddha’s teaching to fit your current worldview, then your habits don’t change. Sometimes the Buddha’s teachings are not so nice to hear, but that is the point! The Buddha’s teachings may be displeasing if your current way of living and set of values reflect a mistaken understanding of what brings happiness. When I go to the doctor and he tells me I need to eat healthier food, I don’t like it! I try to reinterpret what he says. My reinterpretation doesn’t hurt the doctor; it hurts me. For the same reason, we must not reinterpret Dharma teachings too liberally. The purpose of practice is not only to achieve happiness in this lifetime but also to gain fearlessness in the face of death.

We do not know what is going to happen when we die. Although we may contemplate the possibility or validity of reincarnation, unless we are very realized we cannot know for sure whether we will have a future rebirth or not. The problem with assuming it all ends at death is that we tend to indulge in damaging behaviors and patterns. If you pay attention to fellow Buddhists, you will see that those practitioners who have a stronger conviction in rebirth are usually more mindful and skillful than those who do not. They are more cautious with their physical and verbal actions. They assume that the consequences of their every action will come back around. Ironically, as a result of such attention to karma, they are actually freer. We do not believe in “punishment” in Buddhism, but we do recognize that every action has a consequence and that anything we experience now is the result of previous actions. That is the law of karmic result.

When we start to interpret the teachings of the Dharma in abstract ways, we inevitably diminish the potency of the law of cause and effect. Every practice offered by the Buddha is layered with meaning, and we should get to the heart of that meaning even if it is not what we want to hear. In the sutras, we come across stories of monks going out on alms walks. When they hear how monks “beg,” people come to think that Buddhism advocates poverty or that monks receive their food by the grace of God and surrender to Divine Will. This understanding is a superimposition. The monks are actually inviting people to share in the merit of the Dharma, inviting the community to practice generosity and connect with the monks’ virtuous activities. We can only understand this kind of detail when we make the effort to study. So let’s not just rely upon our ideas of how things are but actually get to the meaning of things.

A monk or nun should not be judgmental when accepting alms. They cannot say, “I like this and I don’t like that. I won’t accept this food that you are giving me because you didn’t cook it well.” The Buddha explained the benefits of accepting alms without discrimination. We reduce our desire and judgment. We have correct discipline. We do not engage in unnecessary debate. We do not praise ourselves or criticize others. Our attachment decreases. We check our anger. We reduce our material concerns. Just as the meaning of the practice of receiving alms is not immediately apparent, the benefit of renunciation on all levels will only in time be brought fully to light.

Cultivating Renunciation

Consider the following five questions slowly and honestly. Spend at least one or two minutes on each question, examining what arises for you as you proceed.

• How strong is my practice of renunciation? In other words, how much do I cling to a sense of self?
• What is my motivation for most things? How selfish am I?
• How undistracted am I during formal meditation?
• How mindful am I in my actions?
• How attached am I to the result of my practice?

In addition to contemplating these questions, throughout your day, examine which of the eight worldly concerns are strongest for you. The eight worldly concerns are:

1. Seeking gain
2. Fearing loss
3. Desiring pleasure
4. Opposing displeasure
5. Enjoying praise
6. Disliking blame
7. Coveting happiness
8. Avoiding suffering

Knowing where you are susceptible, exercise mindfulness and guard against the eight worldly concerns.

Remember that the Buddha’s teaching on renunciation is a form of self-compassion. Renunciation is how we become free.