December 2008

Lama Norlha Rinpoche often reminds us that the best advice he got from his first root lama in Tibet was, “Always remember impermanence.”

Rinpoche likes to point out that most of us don’t plan for the end of our life. We only get as far as saving up for the nursing home—and many of us don’t even make it there. We never give a thought to what will happen after we die, or we don’t really believe in it, until we get there.

Buddhists consider the moment of death to be our greatest opportunity to fully recognize the true, unchanging nature of our mind, jump off the merry-go-round, and help others do the same. But without advance preparation, when that moment comes we won’t have a clue, and we don’t know where our karma will take us next time around. “If you don’t practice now,” Rinpoche once asked, “when will you do it? When you’re a cow grazing in a field?” That’s why we constantly remind ourselves, through the second of the Four Thoughts, that death could come, or our situation could suddenly change, at any moment.

A few years ago, when I lived in rural New Hampshire, I was taking a walk on the most gloriously perfect early fall day you can imagine, just feeling on top of the world, la la la la la, when I passed a neighbor’s pig pen. Mr. and Mrs. Pig were friends of mine, and I always stopped to say a few mani’s if they were out and about. But today Mrs. Pig was standing there all alone looking very, very upset. Where is Mr. Pig? As I passed the driveway, why, there was Mr. Pig—laid out on the asphalt, freshly slaughtered and about to be hung up for bacon. Mrs. Pig was next on the list.

A Western teacher I studied Tibetan with back in the 1980s used to say, “We already fell off the building. We’re hurtling toward the ground.”

Whatever helps us remember impermanence and appreciate the amazing opportunity this lifetime affords—no matter what temporary problems we may be facing at any given moment—the best way to take advantage of it is summed up in the Buddha’s most concise exposition of the path:

Refrain from negative actions,
Engage in positive actions,
And tame your own mind.
That is the Buddha’s teaching.

With regard to our actions, he advised us to avoid harm to others and, if at all possible, help them, particularly by refraining from and doing the opposite of killing, stealing, sexual misconduct; untruthful, harsh, divisive or meaningless speech; coveting what others have, and wishing others harm. These 10 negative and positive actions are further explained in numerous excellent resources, such as The Torch of Certainty by Jamgon Kongtrul and The Words of My Perfect Teacher by Patrul Rinpoche.

Taming the mind is done through meditation. The Tibetan Buddhist path includes many different types of meditation designed to uncover our innate wisdom through various routes. In three-year retreat, we’ve begun to get a glimpse of some of the more esoteric practices that are said to make enlightenment possible in a single lifetime. But the starting point of the path is simple calm abiding meditation, and this method alone, if practiced diligently, will vastly improve one’s day-to-day quality of life, lead automatically to deeper realization, and come in very handy at the time of death or in any kind of adversity.

In the early days of the personal computer, circa 1980, when there was only one font, no graphics, no color, and no mouse, and everybody played Pac-Man, a really sophisticated computer game came out. It was based on the 1970s TV show The Prisoner, about a renegade British secret agent mysteriously exiled to “the Village,” a maddeningly cheerful island that bore no resemblance to reality. In the computer game, the player typed in words, and maybe used the cursor keys to move around, in order to solve a series of more and more complex and seemingly illogical puzzles and eventually “escape”—something Number Six, the hero of The Prisoner, never managed to do.

I remember clearly the day we solved the final puzzle. The solution was: “Unplug the computer.” So simple…yet we never thought of it on our own!

You might need your computer, but what if you just turned it off and meditated for a half hour, or even 15 minutes? Or, don’t turn it off—just walk away and meditate for ten minutes, or five, and come right back.

Or, stay at the computer and just swivel your chair around and let thoughts go for a few minutes. Or, don’t even turn around—just lower your gaze and focus on your breath. Don’t try to change it, just notice it, while gently letting go of any thoughts that arise. You can even look like you’re working!

If you don’t have five minutes, and I’ve been in that situation many times myself, maybe you could follow Thich Nhat Hanh’s advice and take three slow, mindful breaths, relaxing and letting all thoughts go just for that short amount of time.

If you don’t even have time for three breaths, then Mingyur Rinpoche has a suggestion: just rest your mind for ONE SECOND! He says we can do this any time, anywhere. Once when he was teaching meditation in New York City he stopped and talked to himself for a moment to see if it’s possible to meditate while conversing. He reported to his highly amused audience that yes,  it is! In the one-second technique, you just focus for that second on whatever you’re doing; let all thoughts and feelings go, and be present where you are, vividly—feeling tactile sensations, hearing sounds, noticing your breath, or relaxing into the vastness of space.

Many years ago during a teaching at KTC, someone asked Kalu Rinpoche how often we should meditate. Without hesitating, Rinpoche replied, “Whenever you realize you’re not meditating, then you should meditate.”

Listen! The banshee is already wailing on the mountainside! There’s no other time than now.

November 2008

A previous post focused on Lama Norlha Rinpoche’s advice that the secret to happiness in this lifetime is, in all our relationships, to focus on people’s good qualities and kindness rather than on their faults and negative behavior.

But in other teachings, Rinpoche has revealed: it is not the whole secret!

If we want to achieve ultimate, lasting happiness, happiness that never turns on us, that never diminishes and never ends, what we really need to do is give up forever all our expectations that such happiness is to be found in any corner of samsara: in any relationship, career, book, financial windfall, honor, dessert, or day at Six Flags. The kind of happiness produced by those things—if it even materializes in the first place—is fleeting, whether it lasts five minutes or thirty years.

But wait, don’t get discouraged! That doesn’t mean we need to give any of those things up—we can still enjoy them, according to Rinpoche. All we have to give up is our attachment to them, our reflexive belief that changing our external circumstances in a big or small way is finally going to put our life on the right track once and for all.

How to go about this? Just follow the path that has been laid out before us: contemplate and really internalize the four thoughts, and make meditation a part of our daily routine. Meditation is the key to really experiencing the truth of the Buddha’s teachings. In meditation, by sitting through the parade of whatever happens in our mind, we begin to see for ourselves that there is no reality to anything we think or feel; it is all just a stream of temporary impressions, and if we let it flow without getting caught up in particular aspects of it, nothing in it can ever hurt us or anyone else. We won’t see much, according to the teachings, by sitting for a few minutes now and then; we will only see it by clocking the hours on our cushion or chair. But even in small increments, daily practice will add up over the months and years.

If we accumulate enough hours of meditation, we also begin to experience what is underneath the surging waves of all those fleeting experiences: the vast, unperturbed, brilliant, completely compelling ocean of mind. Connecting with this, Rinpoche teaches, is the real secret to happiness.

In the rare spare moment, I have recently been going through my notes on teachings I’ve received over the past three decades, and this is a recurrent theme. We won’t attain ultimate, lasting happiness until we take the well-being of others to heart, practice meditation and get to know our own mind, and ultimately, through these two, under the guidance of a genuine teacher who has realized the path, recognize and dwell in the essential nature of who we really are.

October 2008

A few years ago, during one of Lama Norlha Rinpoche’s visits to New Hampshire, he gave a public talk at the Unitarian Church in Portsmouth on the topic of how to be happy. The gist of his advice was this: in all our relationships, especially with those closest to us, always focus on the person’s good qualities and their kindness, and never think about their flaws and misdeeds.

As usual, the Buddha’s solution to our problem is very simple. The difficulty is in overcoming our habitual patterns, or internal resistance, in order to apply it or even remember it in the heat of the moment.

I have written about how prone I am to notice the flaws in things, to wish for something to be different, no matter how good my situation is. That seems to be my default setting, and from years of observation, I suspect it is the case with many of us humans, at least those of us with enough resources that we aren’t filled with joy just to have a roof over our head or enough to eat. Just as a cat is programmed to pounce on the slightest movement, we seem to be programmed to notice the slightest flaw or discomfort, and often to focus on that instead of the bigger, happier picture. A classic example is what the real estate industry terms “buyer’s remorse,” that feeling of dread that comes over us as soon as we finally close on the coveted house and begin to notice its every defect.

In retreat, Rinpoche urges us to appreciate our rare, if sometimes challenging, opportunity, rather than give in to the ever-present demons of worry, doubt, and discontent. “Mind is empty,” he said one day. “This means you can change your thoughts.”

He repeated that advice just this week, in the context of reminding us how many methods we now have for dealing with emotional ups and downs. If our meditation is being derailed by an intrusive train of thought, especially one that brings up anger, sadness or some other disturbing emotion, there are various meditational methods we can apply—but we can also just: Hop on a different train! Change the channel! Think about something else! Most helpful, of course, is to turn our mind to a Dharma topic such as remembering impermanence or reviewing the reasons patience is more beneficial than anger—but any positive alternative thought will do the job.

Of course, altering one’s overall thought picture is not an easy task, and Rinpoche was not addressing such situations as clinical depression, which make it harder and may require outside help. But maybe we could just start to work on our everyday garden-variety thoughts, the small ones, when we are just feeling out of sorts with our life or our loved ones. When they leave a mess for us to clean up, or interrupt us for the sixth time, or forget something important, maybe we could google our brain for their lovable qualities and all the times they have shown us that they care.

The very definition of samsara, according to the Buddha, is that it is suffering, ranging from minor dissatisfaction up to terrible tragedy. Even at its best, it’s just never completely, 100% right at any given moment—or if it is, that moment is over in a flash. Rinpoche has also said, “The Buddha taught that samsara is nothing but suffering. So why are you surprised when you suffer?”

The trick, then, to a happy mind is first to understand that something will always be at least a little wrong, and then to persistently reset the dial from “notice what’s wrong” to “notice what’s right.” Meditation is very helpful with this process, because it gives us direct access to the dial, first by cluing us in to what our mind is actually doing at any given moment, and then by providing alternative settings along with the means to apply them

We’ll have to use manual reset for awhile, until our habits begin to change, but if we practice enough—eventually our default setting could be buyer’s delight.

September 2008

One of the great things about being a Buddhist is that no matter where you are or what you’re doing, and no matter how bleak—or how perfect— things may look at any given moment, there’s always something you can do to improve the situation. (This is no doubt true of other spiritual paths as well—I just happen to familiar with Buddhist methods.) Below is a concise guide to a few of the techniques we can pull out in any setting to calm our own mind or send some positive energy to someone in need. Each of them is best cultivated in regular sessions on a cushion or chair; that makes them easier and more effective on the spur of the moment. But if you aren’t able to organize yourself to practice formally, any engagement with them is helpful.

• Calm abiding (shinay) meditation. The basic instruction for this technique to settle the mind is: don’t engage in any thoughts of the past, present or future. Instead, whatever thought or emotion arises in the mind, rest relaxed and alert in its essence. You don’t need to analyze what this means; in fact, it’s beyond the grasp of the intellect. It will become clearer only through practice. You never actually need to know’what it means,” it works anyway. In short, neither banish nor follow the content of any thoughts that arise, but let the mind rest in the midst of whatever comes up, relaxed and aware. Don’t worry about whether you’re doing it “right” or not. Just do it, fearlessly. It’s that simple!
  
  Within this overall technique, you can use a device to anchor your awareness, so you know whether you’re distracted or not, such as counting your breaths, just noticing your breathing, or being aware of visual, auditory, tactile, or inner sensations; or you can just keep your mind wide open. It’s easiest to do when you’re not engaged in conversation or a demanding activity. I find it’s a good way to make use of time waiting in line or on hold or at the computer, driving, or doing tasks that don’t require mental effort. With practice, you can apply it almost any time, unobtrusively, without looking like you’re doing anything at all. You can do it for a few minutes or a few breaths, or just flash on it for a second or two. The only hard thing about it is remembering to do it.
• Taking and sending (tong len) meditation. This is another simple, literal technique that doesn’t require much preparation or effort and allows for endless variations. For our present travel purposes, we’ll cut to the chase: You see or bring to mind someone whom you know or suspect is suffering physically or emotionally; you generate the intense wish to free them of this suffering by taking it upon yourself and to give them all your happiness in return; you put this wish into action by visualizing their suffering as hot black smoke that you breathe in from their heart center, through your nostrils and into your heart center, where it dissolves harmlessly into emptiness, and then visualizing your happiness as cool white light that you breathe out from your heart center, through your nostrils, and into their heart center. You continue this for as many breaths as it takes, and through this exchange, you imagine that they become free of suffering and filled with happiness. Your own happiness does not get used up, but is inexhaustible, constantly replenished by your compassion and good will and the innately joyful nature of mind.
  
  As I mention elsewhere this month, Jamgon Kongtrul urges us to do this practice even on our deathbed, when we are unable to do anything else but breathe. Keeping impermanence in mind, knowing that our last moment—our deathbed— could come without warning at any time, perhaps we had best practice it as much as possible! It’s a great way to take your mind off your own problems; and if you are suffering, you can even do it for yourself, adapting the visualization accordingly. You can try it as an antidote when you are caught up in anger or an argument, following a slow driver, or just got up on the wrong side of the bed. You can pull out taking and sending in an instant, any time you observe someone suffering, whether you are able to help them in some other way or not. There may not be any evidence that it provides relief (perhaps you will never know, and Chogyam Trungpa, in Training the Mind, says not to even think about it), but it raises our awareness and compassion and helps diminish our preoccupation with our own concerns—a major objective of all Buddhist practice.
• Mantra recitation. Even if you don’t do formal meditation practices that involve visualization and mantras, you can recite mantras any time as you go through your day. The best all-purpose mantra is om mani peme hung (oh-m mah-nee pay-may hoong, in the Tibetan pronunciation, with each syllable equally stressed). This is the mantra of compassion, and saying it serves two principal purposes: it awakens our own compassion, which exists in each of us as a potential to be developed; and when other beings hear it, it is said to make a connection that will lead to their awakening as well.It is considered best not to impose our mantras on other humans, who may not wish to hear them; when we recite them in public, it is best to do so quietly and imperceptibly, for the benefit of tiny animals and invisible beings who may be near enough to hear, and for the general positive energy they disseminate. Like taking and sending, it is something positive we can do whenever we see someone suffering. When Kalu Rinpoche visited KTC in the 1980s, he was often observed walking the grounds and stopping to say mantras for any small animals and insects he encountered.Mantras can also be used as a focus for calm abiding meditation in the same way we might use our breath, to anchor our awareness as we rest our mind, thus combining two techniques for training and calming the mind.Each of these techniques can be further explored through numerous resources, or learned from a qualified teacher. But it’s fine to just try out these simple instructions. And if you remember to renew your motivation to practice for the benefit of all beings at the beginning and to dedicate any benefit from the practice to all beings at the end, whatever practice you do will become much more powerful, even if you only have a moment.

Programs and books for further exploration:

• Kagyu Thubten Chöling Monastery’s Dharma Path Program, www.kagyu.com
• KTC’s East Coast affiliated centers, www.kagyu.com
• Kagyu Samten Chöling, KTC’s affiliated center in southeastern NH, www.nhkagyu.org
• Meditation, Advice for Beginnings by Bokar Rinpoche (calm abiding)
• The Joy of Living by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche (calm abiding)
• The Great Path of Awakening by Jamgon Kongtrul (taking and sending)
• The Seven Points of Mind Training by Khenchen Thrangu Rinpoche (taking and sending)
• Training the Mind by Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche (taking and sending)
• Start Where You Are by Pema Chödron (taking and sending)
• Chenrezi, Lord of Love by Bokar Rinpoche (om mani peme hung)

July 2008

When I was a child, my hero was the cartoon character Mighty Mouse:

“Here I come to save the day!

Mighty Mouse is on the way!”

I used to dream about being a girl superhero. I had a ponytail and flew through the air and rescued people from “bad guys.” That was when I was about six years old. I soon gave up the fantasy and caved in to reality: I was just another powerless kid who had to go to school every day and do my chores and homework, and when I grew up I would be a powerless adult who went to a boring job and paid insurance premiums.

Guess what? Though there is undeniable truth to the “reality” version of things, the fantasy turns out to be no less true. I might not have known this had I not encountered the path of Vajrayana Buddhism, in which imagining ourselves as superheroes is not only allowed, it’s the fast track to enlightenment! And it’s not considered a fantasy; it’s an equally valid—even a more valid—way to see ourselves.

Though the Vajrayana (the type of Buddhism that came to us from Tibet) includes all the types of practice done in the other Buddhist traditions (Hinayana and Mahayana), it is distinguished by what are generally called deity practices, in which we visualize “deities” who have superhuman abilities to help beings in particular ways; in some cases, we even visualize these deities as ourselves.

These Buddhist deities are not deities in way we usually understand the word. They really are more like superheroes, whose function is to rescue beings in all the realms of existence from all types of harm. For example, Chenrezi, a four-armed luminous white superhero, relieves suffering with light rays of compassion; Green Tara, a green female superhero, stamps out fear, danger, poverty, and other types of distress. Medicine Buddha, who looks like a blue Buddha, dispels illness. There is a whole class of superhero “protectors,” some of them quite fearsome looking, who make it their business to quash our enemies and demons.

According to the Buddha, everything we experience is in some way a reflection of our own mind: the superhero deities thus correspond to various fully developed aspects of our innate potential, and the “bad guys” they take out are our own familiar disturbing emotions—anger, desire, jealousy, greed, pride, etc.—which they magically restore to their true identities as aspects of our underlying, unrealized wisdom.

In the Mahayana traditions of Buddhism, which include the Vajrayana, all practitioners aspire to be bodhisattvas, or enlightenment warriors. Bodhisattvas can look quite ordinary and show up anywhere—your next-door neighbor could be one. They don’t generally announce themselves, but work quietly to help beings in whatever way is needed. That could be as dramatic as stepping in front of a train to save a child, or, as Tai Situ Rinpoche once explained in a teaching at KTC, it could be as simple as making someone a cup of tea. You might even see one rescuing an insect from certain death—to a bodhisattva, every living being counts.

The most powerful bodhisattvas are those who have attained realization of the true nature of mind, and can therefore see what beings really need and exercise their powers to provide it; Chenrezi and Green Tara are considered realized bodhisattvas. However, anyone can become a beginner bodhisattva simply by making a formal commitment to attain full awakening in order to help others do the same, and then setting out to make it so.

A few years ago, a college student showed up at one of our Dharma center meetings in rural New Hampshire in a log cabin in the woods overlooking a quiet pond, where we met (and my fellow practitioners still meet) one evening a week to do calm abiding meditation and the practice of Chenrezi. This young man had just seen Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and he wanted to learn to do the magical feats and airborne acrobatics displayed by the characters in the film. We looked at each other for a moment, then welcomed him to our practice: Yep, Chenrezi practice is a perfect place to start!

June 2008

The maroon fence outside my window is a favorite resting spot for birds. Sometimes they sing a song, but usually they just sit for a moment or two, maybe groom themselves a bit, and then they’re off to the next thing. In April there was a parade of Carolina wrens, usually en route to the new house with some fresh nesting material. In May, the wrens could still be heard in the distance, but the fence belonged to song sparrows. Now the sparrows are rarely seen or heard, and a pair of catbirds seems to have moved in. (One is meowing on the fence as I write. Nope…now it’s gone. Postscript from end of June: the catbirds are now gone, and the blue jays have taken over.) One evening awhile back, when I was feeling momentarily dispirited, a shy wood thrush, usually heard from far off in the woods, stopped just long enough to sing its magical song.

Whenever a catbird lands on the fence, in the back of my mind there is always the hope that it will sing. If lunch is buckwheat and parsnips (it happens), I wish it were something else. If it’s Thursday after lunch (housecleaning day) I wish it were Friday (incoming mail day). The weather could be warmer…or cooler…or a little less humid. The chanting could be smoother…or more in tune…or faster…or slower….My mind could be free of thoughts…or at least full of better quality ones. What exists that could not be improved!

I have come to suspect that samsara, a.k.a. cyclic existence, this prison of confusion and suffering, might be defined simply as the state of wanting things to be different. Could it be that as soon as we wake up and see things as they are, and are able to rest peacefully in that without wishing them otherwise—whether we are walking on the beach or at work on Monday morning with a bad-tempered colleague—bingo!

In the Mahayana Buddhist tradition, of which the Vajrayana is a part, that is not quite the whole story. In order to reach full awakening, we still need to develop and carry out the motivation to help all other beings attain the same state of peace and ultimate happiness.

Still…if only I could rest in the present moment without wishing for a slightly different present moment…then everything would be perfect!

I’ve heard it said that when you meet a prospective spiritual teacher, the most important question to ask is who their teacher is—to make sure they come from a genuine tradition with certified results. Otherwise, you could end up entrusting your innermost well-being to someone who just had an interesting idea…and is testing it out on you!

Each teacher inevitably puts his or her own stamp on the teachings s/he is transmitting, but it should be a question of style and not content. Even Chamgon Tai Situ Rinpoche (the “Tai Situpa” who has written several excellent books on Buddhist practice), one of the foremost Lamas of the Kagyu Lineage, when he visits the US and teaches at KTC Monastery, always warns us when he is deviating from the traditional explanation of things. He calls these moments “my own rubbish.” They are inevitably very helpful explanations from his own experience, which happens to be firmly rooted in traditions and teachings that go back in an unbroken line for 2,600 years. Calling his personal spin on it “rubbish”—that’s just how careful he is being to keep the traditional teachings completely pure and uncontaminated by someone’s bright idea—even those of a realized master.

People whose techniques don’t have the advantage of a long history of verification are often offended by the concept of lineage, and try to brush it off as some sort of outdated, closed-minded clique mentality. And of course, not having a lineage doesn’t necessarily mean your methods don’t work; they might. We just don’t know yet.

We live in a culture that seems to reserve its highest esteem for the latest thing. LAST year’s cell phone / breakfast cereal / bestseller? Throw it out! There’s an energy in innovation, a freshness, that is very seductive; and new things do sometimes turn out to be improved as well. But they can also get us into trouble. I spent 15 years as a medical journalist and reported on hundreds of studies of new medications and surgical procedures—some of them worked, some didn’t, and some caused irreparable harm. You don’t know until you’ve tested it out on enough patients for all the flaws to become apparent—which can take years, and leave behind a trail of permanent damage and death. Thalidomide…DES…hormone replacement therapy…Vioxx…lobotomy…if I had Google in retreat, I’d list a lot more. We always assume they’re fine until the damage is done.

Genuine lineage is insurance that methods have been thoroughly tested and that you are not a guinea pig. There are many spiritual traditions to choose from that come with this sort of quality assurance—that they are very likely to be effective if applied diligently and with the proper guidance, and very unlikely to do any harm.

And to take it a step further, just because someone claims to be part of or to represent a particular lineage doesn’t mean they do. The teachings urge us to check out a teacher thoroughly before we make a commitment; our spiritual progress and well-being depend on it.

It could be argued that the Buddha himself had no lineage—he started one. He did study with a number of teachers, but he felt their methods didn’t go far enough, and he had to forge the rest of the path on his own. If you meet a teacher who claims to be doing the same thing, and you are confident that you are putting yourself in the hands of another Buddha: by all means go for it! Meanwhile, I’m sticking with the tried and true, and hope that it continues to be preserved and handed down for many generations to come.

1. Replace the empty toilet paper roll.
2. Leave the biggest / best / last one for the next person.
3. When you notice someone making an inconsequential error—pretend you didn’t.

1. It’s a bit chilly, I’d better close the window / put on a sweater.
2. Darn, I forgot to turn off my cell phone.
3. Better get a glass of water in case I get thirsty.
4. That other hand position might be more comfortable.
5. What a great idea! (Where’s my pen?)

 Sitting down to meditate is an invitation to re-initiate the cycle of samsara again and again. Our situation is never quite right at any given moment; there is always a little something we could do to improve it. We are engaged in an endless, bootless quest to perfect our external circumstances, rather than relax and really get to know what’s in front of us right now; and meditation can be just one more arena in which to play out that scenario.

 Lama Norlha Rinpoche told me shortly before three-year retreat began, “If you follow the first thought, the second thought is inevitable.”

 That brings us to a good working definition of meditation: being aware of every thought and impulse that enters our mind, but declining to follow or act on it. From this process we learn something very useful that we can apply throughout our daily life: every thought and impulse fades away automatically if left to its own devices. (How I wish I could remember that all the time!)

 So…if you feel a little chilly, what will happen if you don’t get up and put on a sweater? If it’s a minor discomfort, you may find that chilliness is a fleeting feeling; it might disappear, it might come and go; if you put on a sweater, you might even be too hot and have to take it off again! This applies to most feelings of minor discomfort or dissatisfaction that arise in meditation, or in daily life; it’s amazing how many things will take care of themselves, at least in the short term, if you just let go of the thought. (Caution: in cases of significant or persistent physical discomfort or pain, no need to risk illness or injury…go ahead and fix it. Just use the little things to practice on.)

 What about that cell phone—if it rings, will the disturbance invalidate your meditation? My own experience suggests that, on the contrary, the ringing phone may bring you back from a reverie and remind you to go back to your scheduled meditation already in progress. When I lived near a busy street corner in Brooklyn circa 1980, my meditation schedule seemed to be coordinated with that of a regular passerby who, every morning, would stop and linger on that very corner with his boom box (a 1980s word for a very large audiotape player). At first it was annoying, but after awhile I realized that the boom box, which always caught me unawares, was the very reminder I needed—every day—to apply myself to meditation instead of my habitual daydreaming or planning. (I’m not suggesting you leave your cell phone on on purpose…just that it may not be worth getting up to turn it off if you forgot.)

 As for the great idea: that’s one of my personal favorites. The solution to a problem, an idea for an article or project, something you absolutely must not forget at the grocery store…meditation provides just the environment for bringing such treasures to the surface. It becomes a bit less compelling when I ask myself, what use will it be when I am grief-stricken, disabled, or dying? Sticking with my meditation will develop inner resources to help me at those times—long after I’ve forgotten whether I had all the ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner.

At our meditation study and practice meetings in New Hampshire, we often talked about the Four Thoughts, also known as the Four Reflections or the Four Contemplations. Their full title is the Four Thoughts That Turn the Mind, i.e., redirect it from worldly to spiritual concerns.

 Lama Norlha Rinpoche has always placed a great deal of emphasis on really getting to know these thoughts; he says it is like building the foundation of your house. If you haven’t really internalized these thoughts, your Dharma practice will never be truly stable. (Just before we entered the three-year retreat, he gave a teaching on these same four thoughts.) Whenever you find yourself wavering about whether to do your meditation or go make some popcorn and put in a dvd, you can always come back to the Four Thoughts to remind yourself why the dvd isn’t going to help you when things go wrong.

 Informally expressed, the Four Thoughts are:

 1.      The Precious Human Existence: We need to appreciate what a rare opportunity we have in this life; we have everything we need in order to free ourselves from the otherwise endless cycle of confusion and suffering. We are not gravely impaired or imprisoned in a situation that leaves us no leisure; and we have access to the Buddha’s teachings and to living teachers who can help us apply them. Not everyone has this situation, and we might not have it ourselves the next time around; we need to put it to work for us.

 2.      Impermanence and Death: Darn, there’s that D-word again. Why do Buddhists have to be so morbid? Because it’s the truth: we don’t know how long this opportunity is going to last. Even if we don’t die tomorrow, something could happen that could prevent us from practicing. It could happen any minute (wait, is that the phone?)—so we have to make use of our time right now!

 3.      Karma, Cause and Result: This one is very complicated; even if I understood it, I wouldn’t try to explain it! But Jamgon Kongtrul, the great nineteenth-century Kagyu teacher, says in The Lamp of the Definitive Meaning (aka, The Torch of Certainty, translated by Judith Hanson) that anyone can understand the fundamental underlying law of karma: virtuous-positive-helpful actions lead to future happiness, and unvirtuous-negative-harmful actions lead to future suffering. Part of Dharma practice is to conduct ourselves in the world in such a way that we don’t create more negative conditions for ourselves or others. This isn’t a moralistic edict, it’s completely practical: we are looking out for our own future, which may kick in to some extent in this lifetime, but really takes hold when we die and as we move on to our next life. As Lama Norlha Rinpoche often advises: don’t set yourself up for regrets on your deathbed, because there’s nothing you can do about them then.

 4.      The Disadvantages of Samsara: Samsara is the Sanskrit word (Tibetan kor.wa) for the endless cycle of suffering that goes round and round from lifetime to lifetime. The Buddha taught that it’s all suffering, every atom of it. Even what feels like happiness is suffering in disguise: if it doesn’t make you fat or aggravate your asthma, at best it has to end; and if you look at anything in life closely enough, you see that it came to you via a trail of others’ pain and destruction, especially if you believe, as Buddhists do, that even tiny animals count. (How many insects died for your bowl of brown rice or strawberries?)

 For a more classical presentation and more detail about the Four Thoughts, some good books are The Torch of Certainty by Jamgon Kongtrul, The Words of My Perfect Teacher by Patrul Rinpoche, and two books by Kalu Rinpoche: The Writings of Kalu Rinpoche (his first book, available from KTC Monastery) and Foundations of Tibetan