The Art of Happiness (21 page)

“And what about those who don't believe in either the doctrine of Karma or the idea of a Creator God?”

“For a nonbeliever ... ,” the Dalai Lama pondered for several moments before responding, “ ... perhaps a practical, scientific approach could help. I think that scientists usually consider it very important to look at a problem objectively, to study it without much emotional involvement. With this kind of approach, you can look at the problem with the attitude ‘If there's a way to fight the problem, then fight, even if you have to go to court!'” He laughed. “Then, if you find that there's no way to win, you can simply forget about it.

“An objective analysis of difficult or problematic situations can be quite important, because with this approach you'll often discover that behind the scenes there may be other factors at play. For instance, if you feel that you're being treated unfairly by your boss at work, there may be other factors at play; he may be annoyed by something else, an argument with his wife that morning or something, and his behavior may have nothing to do with you personally, may not be specifically directed at you. Of course, you must still face whatever the situation may be, but at least with this approach you may not have the additional anxiety that would come along with it.”

“Could this kind of ‘scientific' approach, in which one objectively analyzes a situation, also possibly help one to discover ways in which oneself may be contributing to the problem? And could that help reduce the feeling of unfairness associated with the difficult situation?”

“Yes!” he responded enthusiastically. “That would definitely make a difference. In general, if we carefully examine any given situation in a very unbiased and honest way, we will realize that to a large extent we are also responsible for the unfolding of events.

“For instance, many people blamed the Gulf War on Saddam Hussein. Afterwards, on various occasions I expressed, ‘That's not fair!' Under such circumstances, I really feel kind of sorry for Saddam Hussein. Of course, he is a dictator, and of course, there are many other bad things about him. If you look at the situation roughly, it's easy to place all the blame on him—he's a dictator, totalitarian, and even his eyes look a little bit frightening!” he laughed. “But without his army his capacity to harm is limited, and without military equipment that powerful army cannot function. All this military equipment is not produced by itself from thin air! So, when we look at it like that, many nations are involved.

“So,” the Dalai Lama continued, “often our normal tendency is to try to blame our problems on others, on external factors. Furthermore, we tend to look for one single cause, and then try to exonerate ourselves from the responsibility. It seems that whenever there are intense emotions involved, there tends to be a disparity between how things appear and how they really are. In this case if you go further and analyze the situation very carefully, you'll see that Saddam Hussein is part of the source of the problem, one of the factors, but there are other contributing conditions as well. Once you realize this, your earlier attitude that he is the
only
cause automatically falls away and the reality of the situation emerges.

“This practice involves looking at things in a holistic way—realizing that there are many events contributing to a situation. For example, our problem with the Chinese—again, there is much contribution made by ourselves. I think perhaps our generation may have contributed to the situation, but definitely our previous generations I think were very negligent, at least a few generations back. So I think we, as Tibetans, contributed to this tragic situation. It's not fair to blame everything on China. But there are so many levels. Of course, although we might be a contributing factor to a situation, that doesn't mean we are solely to blame. For example, Tibetans have never completely bowed down to Chinese oppression
_;
there has been continued resistance. Because of this the Chinese developed a new policy—transferring large masses of Chinese to Tibet so that the Tibetan population becomes insignificant, the Tibetans displaced, and the movement for freedom cannot be effective. In this case we cannot say that the Tibetan resistance is to blame or is responsible for the Chinese policy.”

“When you are looking for your own contribution to a situation, what about those situations that clearly aren't your own fault, that you have nothing to do with, even relatively insignificant everyday situations, such as when someone intentionally lies to you?” I asked.

“Of course, I may initially feel a sense of disappointment when somebody isn't truthful, but even here, if I examine the situation, I might discover that in fact their motive for hiding something from me may not be the result of a bad motive. It may be that they simply have a certain lack of confidence in me. So sometimes when I feel disappointed by these kinds of incidents, I try to look at them from another angle; I'll think that maybe the person did not want to fully confide in me because I won't be able to keep it secret. My nature usually tends to be quite straightforward, so, because of this, the person might have decided that I'm not the right person who can keep the secrets, that I may not be able to keep secrets as many people would expect. In other words, I am not worthy of the person's full trust because of my personal nature. So, looking at it in that way, I would consider the cause to be due to my own fault.”

 

 

Even coming from the Dalai Lama, this rationale seemed like a bit of a stretch—finding “your own contribution” to another's dishonesty. But there was a genuine sincerity in his voice as he spoke, which suggested that in fact this was a technique he had used to practical advantage in his personal life to help deal with adversity. In applying this technique to our own lives, of course, we might not always be so successful in finding our own contribution to a problematic situation. But whether we are successful or not, even the honest
attempt
to search for our own contribution to a problem allows a certain shift of focus that helps to break through the narrow patterns of thinking that lead to the destructive feeling of unfairness that is the source of so much discontent in ourselves and in the world.

As products of an imperfect world, all of us are imperfect. Every one of us has done some wrong. There are things we regret—things we have done or things we should have done. Acknowledging our wrongdoings with a genuine sense of remorse can serve to keep us on the right track in life and encourage us to rectify our mistakes when possible and take action to correct things in the future. But if we allow our regret to degenerate into excessive guilt, holding on to the memory of our past transgressions with continued self-blame and self-hatred, this serves no purpose other than to be a relentless source of self-punishment and self-induced suffering.

 

 

 

During an earlier conversation in which we had briefly discussed the death of his brother, I recalled that the Dalai Lama had spoken of some regrets related to his brother's death. Curious about how he dealt with feelings of regret, and possibly guilt feelings, I returned to the subject in a later conversation, asking, “When we were talking about Lobsang's death, you mentioned some regrets. Have there been other situations in your life that you've regretted?”

“Oh, yes. Now for instance there was one older monk who lived as a hermit. He used to come to see me to receive teachings, although I think he was actually more accomplished than I and came to me as a sort of formality. Anyway, he came to me one day and asked me about doing a certain high-level esoteric practice. I remarked in a casual way that this would be a difficult practice and perhaps would be better undertaken by someone who was younger, that traditionally it was a practice that should be started in one's midteens. I later found out that the monk had killed himself in order to be reborn in a younger body to more effectively undertake the practice ...”

Surprised by this story, I remarked, “Oh, that's terrible! That must have been hard on you when you heard ...”

The Dalai Lama nodded sadly.

“How did you deal with that feeling of regret? How did you eventually get rid of it?”

The Dalai Lama silently considered for quite a while before replying, “I didn't get rid of it. It's still there.” He stopped again, before adding, “But even though that feeling of regret is still there, it isn't associated with a feeling of heaviness or a quality of pulling me back. It would not be helpful to anyone if I let that feeling of regret weigh me down, be simply a source of discouragement and depression with no purpose, or interfere with going on with my life to the best of my ability.”

At that moment, in a very visceral way, I was struck once again by the very real possibility of a human being's fully facing life's tragedies and responding emotionally, even with deep regret, but without indulging in excessive guilt or self-contempt. The possibility of a human being's wholly accepting herself or himself, complete with limitations, foibles, and lapses of judgment. The possibility of recognizing a bad situation for what it is and responding emotionally, but without overresponding. The Dalai Lama sincerely felt regret over the incident he described but carried his regret with dignity and grace. And while carrying this regret, he has not allowed it to weigh him down, choosing instead to move ahead and focus on helping others to the best of his ability.

Sometimes I wonder if the ability to live without indulging in self-destructive guilt is partly cultural. In recounting my conversation with the Dalai Lama about regret to a friend who is a Tibetan scholar, I was told that, in fact, the Tibetan language doesn't even have an equivalent for the English word “guilt,” although it does have words meaning “remorse” or “repentance” or “regret,” with a sense of “rectifying things in the future.” Whatever the cultural component may be, however, I believe that by challenging our customary ways of thinking and by cultivating a different mental outlook based on the principles described by the Dalai Lama, any of us can learn to live without the brand of guilt that does nothing but cause ourselves needless suffering.

Guilt arises when we convince ourselves that we've made an irreparable mistake. The torture of guilt is in thinking that any problem is permanent. Since there is nothing that doesn't change, however, so too pain subsides—a problem doesn't persist. This is the positive side of change. The negative side is that we resist change in nearly every arena of life. The beginning of being released from suffering is to investigate one of the primary causes: resistance to change.

In describing the ever-changing nature of life, the Dalai Lama explained, “It's extremely important to investigate the causes or origins of suffering, how it arises. One must begin that process by appreciating the impermanent, transient nature of our existence. All things, events, and phenomena are dynamic, changing every moment
_;
nothing remains static. Meditating on one's blood circulation could serve to reinforce this idea: the blood is constantly flowing, moving
_;
it never stands still. This momentarily changing nature of phenomena is like a built-in mechanism. And since it is the nature of all phenomena to change every moment, this indicates to us that all things lack the ability to endure, lack the ability to remain the same. And since all things are subject to change, nothing exists in a permanent condition, nothing is able to remain the same under its own independent power. Thus, all things are under the power or influence of other factors. So, at any given moment, no matter how pleasant or pleasurable your experience may be, it will not last. This becomes the basis of a category of suffering known in Buddhism as the ‘suffering of change.' ”

 

 

 

The concept of impermanence plays a central role in Buddhist thought, and the contemplation of impermanence is a key practice. Contemplation of impermanence serves two main vital functions within the Buddhist path. On a conventional level, or in an everyday sense, the Buddhist practitioner contemplates his or her own impermanence—the fact that life is tenuous and we never know when we'll die. When this reflection is combined with a belief in the rarity of human existence and the possibility of attaining a state of spiritual Liberation, of release from suffering and endless rounds of rebirth, then this contemplation serves to increase the practitioner's resolve to use her or his time to best advantage, by engaging in the spiritual practices that will bring about this Liberation. On a deeper level, the contemplation of the more subtle aspects of impermanence, the impermanent nature of all phenomena, begins the practitioner's quest to understand the true nature of reality and, through this understanding, dispel the ignorance that is the ultimate source of our suffering.

So, while the contemplation of impermanence has tremendous significance within a Buddhist context, the question arises: does the contemplation and understanding of impermanence have any practical application in the everyday lives of non-Buddhists as well? If we view the concept of “impermanence” from the standpoint of “change,” then the answer is a definite yes. After all, whether one looks at life from a Buddhist perspective or a Western perspective, the fact remains that life is
change.
And to the degree that we refuse to accept this fact and resist the natural life changes, we will continue to perpetuate our own suffering.

The acceptance of change can be an important factor in reducing a large measure of our self-created suffering. So often, for instance, we cause our own suffering by refusing to relinquish the past. If we define our self-image in terms of what we used to look like or in terms of what we used to be able to do and can't do now, it is a pretty safe bet that we won't grow happier as we grow older. Sometimes, the more we try to hold on, the more grotesque and distorted life becomes.