These days many people emphasize the importance of loving ourselves. From a Buddhist viewpoint, there are both positive and negative forms of self-love. Distinguishing them is critical for our well-being. The positive form of self-love wants what is best for ourselves and others in the long run. Seeing that we have the Buddha potential and the seeds of all positive qualities in our mindstream, it wants us to be free from all suffering forever and to attain the lasting happiness of liberation or enlightenment so that we can best help all others to realize that too. This self-love is the basis for valid and firm self-confidence. It makes our mind courageous in bearing short-term difficulties for the sake of attaining deep and long-lasting happiness for ourselves and others.
The negative form of self-love, on the other hand, thinks, “My happiness is more important than anyone else’s. I’ve got to take care of myself first, for in this rough world, if I don’t look out for my own welfare, who will?” Although most of us are too polite to state this publicly, if we check inside, we’ll see that we generally live according to the thought “me and mine first.” Our first thought in the morning—which frequently is “Where’s my coffee?”—concerns our own short-term pleasure. All day long, we look out for our own happiness first, and before going to bed, we think, “Oh, bed. I’m so exhausted!” We aren’t bad because we are self-centered, but if we look closely, we’ll find that this view causes us innumerable problems, for we become overly sensitive to everything concerning the self. Because this form of self-interest pretends to be our friend and look out for our welfare, but in fact causes us difficulties, we call it negative.
We often consider other people as the source of our difficulties and say, “I have problems because my partner won’t listen, my parents get on my case, my children don’t appreciate me, the government is unfair, my boss is too critical,” and so on. However, from the Buddhist viewpoint, our problems come primarily not from other sentient beings, but from the ignorance, anger, attachment, and self-centeredness in our own mind. Other people, through their kindness, enable us to stay alive, practice our spiritual path, and be happy. Only through their hard work do we have the things that sustain our life and bring us pleasure—our food, clothing, car, home, computer, sports equipment, books, and television.
Thus, while we usually consider our self-centeredness an asset that protects us and often see other people as hassles, if we look more closely, we will see that these roles are reversed: other sentient beings are kind, and our self-centeredness is the enemy.
As we become more aware of our thoughts and actions and their influence on ourselves and others, we’ll notice that our self-centeredness causes many problems. It propels us to say and do things that hurt others. It enters almost every conflict we have with others: we want our way; we’re convinced our idea is right. In addition, our selfish attitude is one of the biggest obstacles to gaining spiritual realizations because it causes us to be lazy in our practice. If we reflect deeply over time, we will become firmly convinced that our real enemy, what obstructs our happiness and well-being, is our self-centered attitude.
Although this is so, self-centeredness isn’t an inherent part of us. It’s like a thief in our house, and we can drive it out once we recognize its danger. From a Buddhist perspective, it’s possible to separate the person from her attitude of unhealthy self-preoccupation.
Once we become convinced that self-centeredness is neither beneficial nor an inseparable part of us, we can take any pain we experience and give it to the selfish attitude. For example, when we don’t like listening to another person’s cutting remarks, we can think, “Great! I’ll give all the pain and uncomfortable feelings to my selfish attitude. It’s the real enemy, so let it be the target.” This technique is not to be confused with blaming ourselves or assuming responsibility for things that aren’t our doing. Here, we are differentiating between ourselves and the real troublemaker, our self-centered attitude. Then, because we want ourselves to be happy, we give the trouble to our self-centeredness.
If we do this practice properly and sincerely, then when someone criticizes or harms us, we’ll be happy, not because we’re masochistic, but because we’ve given the damage to the real enemy, our self-centeredness. Then, the more someone harms us, the happier we’ll be! In fact, we’ll think, “Come on, criticize me some more. I want my self-cherishing attitude to be harmed.” This is a profound thought training technique. The first time I heard it, I thought, “This is impossible! What do you mean I’m supposed to be happy when someone criticizes me? How can I possibly practice this?”
But one time I did practice it, and the result was remarkable. I was on pilgrimage in Asia, traveling on horseback to a remote site. One day, something was wrong with my companion Henry’s horse, so he had to walk, leading his horse by the reins. Henry was hungry and tired from the long journey, so walking was a burden to him. Since I felt okay, I offered him my horse.
I don’t understand why, but this upset Henry. And, as often happens when a person becomes angry, Henry began remembering many things I’d done wrong over the years. He recited my faults from years ago and the problems I had caused other people. Here we were in this idyllic place, on pilgrimage to a holy site, and he went on and on, “You did this, and you did that. So many people complain about you.”
I’m usually very sensitive to criticism and easily hurt, so I determined, “I’m going to give all this pain to my self-cherishing attitude.” I meditated like this as we were walking along, and much to my surprise, I started thinking, “This is good! I really welcome your criticism. I’m going to learn from it. Thank you for helping to consume my negative karma by telling me my faults. All the pain goes to my selfish attitude because that’s my real enemy. Tell me more.”
When we finally set up camp for the evening and made tea, my mind was completely peaceful. I think this was the blessing of the pilgrimage because it proved to me that it is possible to be happy when unwished-for events occur. I didn’t have to fall into my old habit of “Poor me.”
To overcome our self-centeredness and anger, we can learn to regard an enemy as a friend who benefits us. We’ll use the word “enemy” here to describe anyone with whom we don’t get along at a particular moment. Even people for whom we deeply care can, then, become “enemies” when they act in ways that seem contrary to our interests, happiness, or welfare. Thus, we see in our lives that a person who is a friend today may become an enemy tomorrow if he does something of which we disapprove. He may return to being a friend the following day, once we have straightened out the misunderstanding.
How can we see an enemy as a friend? First, by harming us an enemy gives us the opportunity to practice giving our pain to our self-centeredness, as mentioned above. Second, by harming us an enemy makes our negative karma ripen, so that specific karma is now finished. Third, he forces us to examine our priorities and actions and decide what we want to do in the future. Thus, a person who harms us helps us grow. Indeed, the times of most intensive personal growth often occur when our sense of well-being and security has been shaken by someone harming us. We survive those difficult situations and emerge stronger and wiser as a result. Although such circumstances and the person who causes them are unpleasant, they enable us to discover resources—such as wisdom and compassion—within ourselves that we didn’t know we had. From this perspective, one who harms us is kinder to us than a friend who doesn’t offer us such challenges!
In fact, an enemy is kinder to us than the most compassionate being we can imagine, for example, the Buddha. This may sound almost inconceivable: “What do you mean my enemy is kinder to me than the Buddha? The Buddha has perfect compassion for everyone. The Buddha doesn’t harm a fly! How can my enemy who is such a jerk be kinder than the Buddha?”
We can look at it this way: To become Buddhas, we need to practice patience and tolerance. Doing this is essential; there’s no other way to become a Buddha. Have you ever heard of an irritable or intolerant Buddha? But with whom can we practice patience? Not with the Buddha, because he doesn’t upset us. Not with our friends, because they’re nice to us. Who gives us the opportunity to practice patience? Who is so kind and helps us develop that infinitely good quality of patience? Only a person who harms us. Only our enemy. That is why our enemy is kinder to us than the Buddha.
My teacher made this very clear to me when I was an assistant director of an institute. The director, Sam, and I didn’t get along at all. In fact, an independent American woman working together with a macho Italian man created something akin to Los Alamos. During the day, I would get angry at him, and in the evening I would go back to my room and think, “I blew it again,” and for help pull out Shantideva’s A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life. Finally I left that job and went to Nepal, where I saw my teacher, Zopa Rinpoche. We were sitting on the roof of his house, looking at the Himalayas, so peaceful and calm, when Rinpoche asked me, “Who’s kinder to you, Sam or the Buddha?”
I thought, “You’ve got to be kidding! There’s no comparison. The Buddha is obviously so kind, but Sam is another case!” So I replied, “The Buddha, of course.”
Rinpoche looked at me as if to say, “Wow! You still haven’t gotten the point!” and said, “Sam gave you the opportunity to practice patience. The Buddha didn’t. You can’t practice patience with the Buddha, and you need to perfect the quality of patience to become enlightened. Therefore, Sam is kinder to you than the Buddha.”
I sat there dumbfounded, trying to digest what Rinpoche had said. I had expected him to say something different, such as, “I know Sam is a difficult person, and you did so well putting up with him all that time.” But, no, consolation and praise for my ego were not in store. Instead, my teacher confronted me with my intolerance. Slowly, as the years have gone by, the meaning of what he said has sunk in and changed me. Now when I see Sam, I appreciate what I learned from him and regret that, at the time, I was not able to benefit from working with him. It has also subsequently occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t the easiest person with whom to work!
Bodhisattvas, those beings dedicated to becoming Buddhas in order to benefit all sentient beings most effectively, are happy when someone harms them, for they are eager to practice patience and now have the opportunity to do so. But being imbued with love and compassion, bodhisattvas have a hard time finding anyone who appears disagreeable or who feels hostile towards them. We ordinary beings, on the other hand, often perceive others as obnoxious and seek out those who will treat us nicely. Despite this, so many people feel, “I can’t find anyone to love me.” Bodhisattvas, however, say, “I can’t find anyone to hate me!”
To prevent anger from rising in response to harm we can also ask ourselves, “Is it this person’s nature to harm us?” In one way, we can say it is human nature to mistreat others upon occasion. We’re all sentient beings caught in the net of cyclic existence, so of course our minds are obscured by ignorance, anger, and attachment. If that’s our present situation, why expect ourselves or others to be free of misconceptions and destructive emotions? If a person is harmful by nature, then getting angry at him is useless. It would be like getting angry at fire because its nature is to burn. That’s just the way fire is; that’s just the way this person is. Becoming upset about it is senseless because that cannot alter the cause of the injury.
On the other hand, if a person is not harmful by nature, there’s no use getting angry at him. His inconsiderate behavior is extraneous; it’s not his nature. From a Buddhist perspective, the deepest nature of even the people who have acted most horrendously is not harmful. They, too, have the pure Buddha potential, the pure nature of their mind, which is their real nature. Their destructive behavior is like a thundercloud temporarily obscuring the clear sky. That behavior is not intrinsic to them, so why make ourselves miserable by being angry at what is not really them? Thinking this way is extremely helpful.
We must separate the person from her behavior. We can say a particular behavior, such as cheating or lying, is harmful, but we cannot say the person who does it is evil. That person, like everyone else, has the Buddha potential. She can, and one day will, become a fully enlightened being. Her negative action was motivated by disturbing attitudes and destructive emotions, which are like clouds obscuring the pure nature of her mind. They are not her nature; neither they nor her actions define who she is as a human being.
Sometimes a part of us feels comfortable categorizing people: Adolf Hitler was evil. End of discussion. But how do we feel inside when we label another living being as inherently evil? And what does that say for us when we err and harm others? Do we also then become irredeemably evil?
The Rodney King episode several years ago brought this point home to me. I thought, “If I were raised like King, who drove dangerously fast on a highway to avoid being pulled over, I probably would have acted as he did. If I were raised like the police officers who beat him, I could have behaved like them. If I were brought up as the Korean grocers were, I could have acted similarly, and if I lived in the circumstances of those who rioted, I could have done that too. When I honestly looked at myself, placed in suitable conditions, I could have thought like any of those people and done any of those actions. Fortunately, I have not been in those situations, but I am not totally free from the potential to act as they did. I cannot arrogantly condemn them as evil if I haven’t eliminated the seeds of those emotions and behaviors within me. For this reason, compassion for ourselves and others is appropriate and essential.
While compassion does not approve of or condone harmful actions, it does have a kind attitude towards the sentient beings who mistakenly commit them. It doesn’t omit any sentient being from its scope, no matter what he does, because underneath his pain and confusion, each sentient being is just like us—he wants only to be happy and be free from suffering. Furthermore, compassion is optimistic. It knows that because people are not inherently evil, they can improve and their dreadful actions can stop.
Another way to deal with our anger at an enemy is to do the reverse of what we feel like doing. While our angry mind generally wants to retaliate by harming the other, changing our attitude and showing kindness is more beneficial for ourselves and for others. We can be kind without capitulating to others’ unreasonable demands.
Once upon a time, a monster asked to see the emperor. Rebuked by the emperor’s secretaries, the monster forced his way into the emperor’s reception room, where the ministers were assembled, waiting for the emperor. The ministers panicked and began to hurtle abuse at the monster in an attempt to force him to leave. “You’re ugly!” ridiculed one. “You’re useless,” insulted another. “You’re evil,” condemned a third. With each insult, the monster grew bigger and meaner, until his repulsive body and negative energy filled the room, terrifying the ministers.
At that point, the emperor walked in. A wise person, he knew that using verbal abuse fuels one’s own anger and seldom intimidates the other; indeed it usually inflames him. Speaking in a soothing voice to the monster, then, the emperor said, “You’re welcome here, friend. Please sit down and have a cup of tea. Would you like some cookies too?” With each kind remark, the monster grew smaller and less threatening, until he was quite docile and sweet. At that point, the emperor asked him, “What did you come here to speak to me about?” and they had a friendly chat. The ministers meanwhile stood by, surprised by the transformation in the monster and remorseful due to their own stupidity for antagonizing him.
We too need to speak kindly to those we fear or find repulsive. As it says in The Eight Verses of Thought Transformation:
Whenever I meet a person of bad nature,
Who is overwhelmed by negative energy and suffering,
I will hold such a rare one dear,
As if I had found a precious treasure.
One morning, Joe noticed that his car, which was parked in front of his house, was scratched. The paint on the scratch matched that of his neighbor’s car, but when he asked his neighbor about it, the old man indignantly denied any involvement. Joe had the car repaired, but a few weeks later saw another scratch of the same color; his neighbor again defensively denied any involvement. Joe was at a loss. He didn’t want his car continually scratched, nor did he relish living next door to someone so disagreeable.
Discussing the situation with some friends one evening, he asked for their suggestions. They toyed with various plans but none seemed to relieve Joe of his negative feelings. Finally, one said, “What would our spiritual teacher do in this situation?” to which another replied, “He’d give the man a present.”
After an initial groan, Joe considered the idea further and decided to try it. Knowing that the old man was an avid golfer, he bought him some new golf balls, which he had gift-wrapped. The neighbor reluctantly opened his door when Joe rang the bell, looked suspicious when Joe with a sincere smile said, “I’d like you to have this,” and slammed the door when Joe left.
A half-hour later, the old man appeared at Joe’s door, his face totally transformed. Radiant, he said to Joe, “I’ve experienced much suffering in my life and little happiness. Thank you for being one who has contributed to my happiness.”
Another example of the value of changing our attitude and showing kindness occurred when I was leading a retreat on Mother’s Day weekend. On Saturday a couple approached me for advice. They explained that their son had recently divorced his wife, who was very bitter about the separation. They feared that, as revenge, their ex-daughter-in-law would deny them the ability to visit their two grandchildren, whom they dearly loved. They considered taking her to court if need be and asked my advice. I suggested, “Before deciding what to do, first try to release you suspicion and ill-will towards her. She is already hurt, and if you approach her ready to argue, she will detect that in you and reply accordingly. You already know the ugly scene that will result, and I’m sure you don’t want your grandchildren to undergo years of antagonism between their mother and grandparents.” The couple nodded. They were with me, so I continued, “You have two beautiful grandchildren due to the kindness of your daughter-in-law. Without her, they would not have been born. She has raised them and enabled them to become who they are, and for all that you have to be thankful. Mother’s Day is tomorrow. You may want to consider sending her flowers and say, ‘Thank you for being the mother of our grandchildren.’ Let her know that you appreciate her for that, and see what happens.”
The couple was surprised by the suggestion, and I hope they followed it. My guess is that their daughter-in-law would respond positively, but even if she did not, their attitude would have changed and become more positive towards her, releasing them from the stress of malice.