The Art of Happiness (24 page)

The Dalai Lama was silent for several moments, his brow furrowed deep in thought, then said, “There may be something in what you are saying.” He then went on to discuss instances where there may need to be some modification to that attitude, where one may need to take strong countermeasures to other's aggression to prevent harm to oneself or others.

Later that evening I thought over our conversation. Two points vividly emerged. First, I was struck by his extraordinary readiness to take a fresh look at his own beliefs and practices—in this case, demonstrating a willingness to reevaluate a cherished prayer that had no doubt fused with his very being through years of repetition. The second point was less inspiring. I was overcome with a sense of my own arrogance! It occurred to me that I had suggested to him that the prayer might not be appropriate because it wasn't in keeping with the harsh realities of today's world. But it wasn't until later that I reflected on who I had been speaking to—a man who had lost an entire country as a result of one of the most brutal invasions in history. A man who has lived in exile for almost four decades while an entire nation placed their hopes and dreams of freedom on him. A man with a deep sense of personal responsibility, who has listened with compassion to a continuous stream of refugees pouring out their stories of the murder, rape, torture, and degradation of the Tibetan people by the Chinese. More than once I've seen the look of infinite caring and sadness on his face as he listened to these accounts, often toldby people who crossed the Himalayas on foot (a two-year journey) just to catch a glimpse of him.

And these stories aren't of physical violence only. Often they involved the attempt to destroy the spirit of the Tibetan people. A Tibetan refugee once told me about the Chinese “school” he was required to attend as a youngster growing up in Tibet. The mornings were devoted to indoctrination and study of Chairman Mao's “little red book.” The afternoons were devoted to reporting on various homework assignments. The “homework” was generally devised to eradicate the deeply ingrained spirit of Buddhism among the Tibetan people. For example, knowing about the Buddhist prohibition against killing and the belief that every living creature is equally a precious “sentient being,” one schoolteacher assigned his students the task of killing something and bringing it to school the following day. The students were graded. Each dead animal was given a certain point value—a fly was worth one point, a worm—two, a mouse—five, a cat—ten, and so on. (When I recounted this story to a friend recently, he shook his head with a look of disgust, and mused, “I wonder how many points the student would get for killin' the damn teacher?”)

Through his spiritual practices, such as recitation of
The Eight Verses on the Training of the Mind,
the Dalai Lama has been able to come to terms with the reality of this situation yet continue to campaign actively for freedom and human rights in Tibet for forty years. At the same time he has maintained an attitude of humility and compassion toward the Chinese, which has inspired millions worldwide. And here was I, suggesting that this prayer might not be relevant to the “realities” of today's world. I still flush with embarrassment whenever I think of that conversation.

In trying to apply the Dalai Lama's method of shifting perspective on “the enemy,” I happened to stumble upon another technique one afternoon. During the course of preparing for this book I attended some teachings by the Dalai Lama on the East Coast. On my return home I took a nonstop flight back to Phoenix. As usual, I had booked an aisle seat. Despite having just attended spiritual teachings, I was in a rather cranky mood as I boarded the packed plane. Then I discovered I had been mistakenly assigned a center seat—sandwiched between a man of generous proportions who had the annoying habit of draping his thick forearm over my side of the armrest and a middle-aged woman whom I took an immediate dislike to because, I decided, she had usurped my aisle seat. There was something about this woman that really bothered me—her voice a bit too shrill, her manner a bit too imperial, I'm not sure. Right after takeoff she began talking continuously to the man sitting directly in front of her. The man turned out to be her husband, and I “gallantly” offered to exchange seats with him. But they wouldn't have it—they both wanted aisle seats. I grew more annoyed. The prospect of five solid hours seated next to this woman seemed unbearable.

Realizing that I was reacting so strongly to a woman whom I didn't even know, I decided that it must be “transference”—she must subconsciously remind me of someone from my childhood—the ol' unresolved-feelings-of-hate-toward-my-mother or something. I racked my brain but couldn't come up with a likely candidate-she just didn't remind me of anyone from my past.

It then occurred to me that this was the perfect opportunity to practice developing patience. So, I started in on the technique of visualizing my enemy in my aisle seat as a cherished benefactor, placed next to me to teach me patience and tolerance. I figured this should be a snap—after all, as “enemies” go you couldn't get any milder than this—I had just met this woman, and she hadn't actually done anything to harm me. After about twenty minutes, I gave it up—she still bugged me! I resigned myself to remaining irritable for the rest of the flight. Sulking, I glared at one of her hands that was furtively encroaching on my armrest. I hated everything about this woman. I was staring absently at her thumbnail when it occurred to me: Do I hate that thumbnail? Not really. It was just an ordinary thumbnail. Unremarkable. Next, I glanced at her eye and asked myself: Do I really hate that eye? Yes, I did. (Of course, for no good reason—which is the purest form of hate). I focused in closer. Do I hate that pupil? No. Do I hate that cornea, that iris, or that sclera? No. So, do I really hate that eye? I had to admit that I didn't. I felt that I was on to something. I moved on to a knuckle, a finger, a jaw, an elbow. With some surprise I realized that there were parts of this woman that I didn't hate. Focusing on details, on particulars, instead of overgeneralizations, allowed a subtle internal change, a softening. This shift of perspective tore an opening in my prejudice, just wide enough to look at her as simply another human being. As I was feeling this, she suddenly turned to me and started a conversation. I don't remember what we talked about—it was small talk mostly—but by the end of the flight my anger and annoyance had been diffused. Granted, she wasn't my New Best Friend but also she was no longer The Evil Usurper of My Aisle Seat—just another human being, like me, moving through life as best she could.

The ability to shift perspective, the capacity to view one's problems “from different angles,” is nurtured by
a supple quality of mind.
The ultimate benefit of a supple mind is that it allows us to embrace all of life—to be fully alive and human. Following a long day of public talks in Tucson one afternoon, the Dalai Lama walked back to his hotel suite. As he slowly walked back to his room, a bank of magenta rain clouds spanned the sky, absorbing the late afternoon light and sending the Catalina Mountains into deep relief, the entire landscape a vast palette of purple hues. The effect was spectacular. The warm air, laden with the fragrance of desert plants, of sage, a dampness, a restless breeze, holding the promise of an unbridled Sonoran storm. The Dalai Lama stopped. For several moments he quietly surveyed the horizon, taking in the entire panorama, finally commenting on the beauty of the setting. He walked on, but after a few steps he paused again, bending down to examine a tiny lavender bud on a small plant. He touched it gently, noting its delicate form, and wondered aloud about the name of the plant. I was struck by the facility with which his mind functioned. His awareness seemed to move so easily from taking in the complete landscape to focusing on a single bud, a simultaneous appreciation of the totality of the environment as well as the smallest detail. A capacity to encompass all facets and the full spectrum of life.

Every one of us can develop this same suppleness of mind. It comes about, at least in part, directly through our efforts to stretch our perspective and deliberately try on new viewpoints. The end result is a simultaneous awareness of the big picture as well as our individual circumstances. This dual outlook, a concurrent view of the “Big World” and our own “Little World,” can act as a kind of triage, helping us separate what is important in life from what isn't.

 

 

 

 

 

In my own case, it took a bit of gentle prodding by the Dalai Lama, during the course of our conversations, before I began to break out of my own limited perspective. By nature and training, I've always tended to address problems from the standpoint of individual dynamics—psychological processes occurring purely within the domain of the mind. Sociological or political perspectives have never held much interest for me. In one discussion with the Dalai Lama I started questioning him about the importance of achieving a wider perspective. Having had several cups of coffee earlier, my conversation started to become quite animated and I began to speak about the ability to shift perspective as an internal process, a solitary pursuit, based solely on an individual's conscious decision to adopt a different view.

In the midst of my spirited discourse, the Dalai Lama finally interrupted to remind me, “When you speak of adopting a wider perspective this includes working cooperatively with other people. When you have crises which are global by nature for instance, such as the environment or problems of modern economic structure, this calls for a coordinated and concerted effort among many people, with a sense of responsibility and commitment. This is more encompassing than an individual or personal issue.”

I was annoyed that he was dragging in the subject of
the world
while I was trying to concentrate on the subject of
the individual
(and this attitude, I'm embarrassed to admit, on the very topic of widening one's viewpoint!).

“But this week,” I insisted, “in our conversations and in your public talks, you've spoken a lot about the importance of effecting personal change from within, through internal transformation. For instance, you've spoken about the importance of developing compassion, a warm heart, of overcoming anger and hatred, cultivating patience and tolerance ...”

“Yes. Of course, change must come from within the individual. But when you are seeking solutions to global problems, you need to be able to approach these problems from the standpoint of the individual as well as from the level of society at large. So, when you're talking about being flexible, about having a wider perspective and so on, this requires the ability to address problems from various levels: the individual level, the community level, and the global level.

“Now, for instance, at the talk at the university the other evening, I spoke about the need to reduce anger and hatred through the cultivation of patience and tolerance. Minimizing hatred is like internal disarmament. But, as I also mentioned in that talk, that internal disarmament must go with external disarmament. That I think is very, very important. Fortunately, after the Soviet empire collapsed, at least for the time being, there is no more threat of nuclear holocaust. So, I think this is a very good time, a very good start—we should not miss this opportunity! Now I think we must strengthen the genuine force of peace. Real peace—not just mere absence of violence or absence of war. Mere absence of war can be produced by weapons—like the nuclear deterrent. But a mere absence of war is not genuine, lasting world peace. Peace must develop on mutual trust. And since weapons are the greatest obstacle for development of mutual trust, I think the time has now come to figure out how to get rid of these weapons. That is very important. Of course, we cannot achieve this overnight. I think the realistic way is step by step. But anyway, I think we must make our ultimate goal very clear: The whole world should be demilitarized. So, on one level we should be working toward developing inner peace, but at the same time it's very important to work towards external disarmament and peace as well, making a small contribution in whatever way we can. That's our responsibility.”

There is a reciprocal relationship between a supple mind and the ability to shift perspective: A supple, flexible mind helps us address our problems from a variety of perspectives, and, conversely, deliberately trying to objectively examine our problems from a variety of perspectives can be seen as a kind of flexibility training for the mind. In today's world, the attempt to develop a flexible mode of thinking isn't simply a self-indulgent exercise for idle iritellectuals-it can be a matter of survival. Even on an evolutionary scale, the species that have been most flexible, most adaptable to environmental changes, have survived and thrived. Life today is characterized by sudden, unexpected, and sometimes violent change. A supple mind can help us reconcile the external changes going on all around us. It can also help us integrate all of our internal conflicts, inconsistencies, and ambivalence. Without cultivating a pliant mind, our outlook becomes brittle and our relationship to the world becomes characterized by fear. But by adopting a flexible, malleable approach to life, we can maintain our composure even in the most restless and turbulent conditions. It is through our efforts to achieve a flexible mind that we can nurture the resiliency of the human spirit.

 

 

 

As I got to know the Dalai Lama, I became amazed at the extent of his flexibility, his capacity to entertain a variety of viewpoints. One would expect that his unique role as probably the world's most recognized Buddhist might put him in the position of being a sort of Defender of The Faith.