Tonglen Practice: Taking It to Heart

 

“You take it all in. You let the pain of the world touch your heart 

and you turn it into compassion. It is said that 

in difficult times, it is only bodhichitta that heals.” 

-- The Sixteenth Gyalwa Karmapa quoted by Pema Chodron, 

When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times 

 

"So, when we are willing, intentionally, with this kind of attitude, 

this vision, to breathe in the suffering, we are able to transform it 

easily and naturally; it doesn't take a major effort on our part, 

other than allow it."

-- Norman Fischer, Training in Compassion: 

Zen Teachings on the Practice of Lojong

A grin comes to my face as I remember her voice on the telephone.

"That's backwards isn't it? You meant breathe in the good and send out the bad, right?" she said, not unkindly. Being gracious, she was making a space for me to realize that my aging brain cells had gone dyslexic.

I had been chatting with an old friend for first time in quite awhile, talking about my continued wonder at the Lojong Teachings of Tibetan Buddhism in general, and Tonglen Practice in particular.  

After a moment's pause, to relax and reconnect with the basic openness of mind -- and to make sure that I really hadn't verbally zigged when I had intended to zag -- I continued.

"No, I actually did mean that I shift my attention from the thoughts running through my head to the feelings coursing through my body.  Then I breathe into my heart the difficult and challenging darker emotions that had emerged.  There in my heart of hearts I get in touch with the reality that countless people are feeling this same form of energy.  My heart naturally responds with the heartfelt aspiration that we all be free of such suffering.  Then I send out a sense of relief and healing with each exhalation.  It's in with the "bad." Out with "good.".

She paused for awhile (perhaps, to relax and reconnect with a basic openness herself? LOL)  Then she simply replied, "Oh?" 

She didn't sound convinced.

Hers was not an uncommon response.  Raised in a highly individualistic and materialistic society, the basic premise of this ancient Tibetan Buddhist system of mind training seems counterintuitive.  Instead of always grasping at the "good" and pushing away the "bad," with Tonglen Practice we choose to open our hearts to the entire gamut of human emotions.   Seems a bit crazy, right? It most certainly is. 

Crazy like a fox.

Transforming ALL Experience into the Path of Awakening

Lojong is an intricate system of training the heart and mind that emerged in Tibetan Buddhism in the 11th and 12 centuries. Grounded in the Mahayana doctrine of Two Truths, it's goal is to cultivate the wisdom and compassion needed to embrace both the conventional truth of appearances and absolute truth of Reality in our own lives.  In Lojong, all experiences of our lives are seen as an opportunity to Practice.

Lojong's framework of 59 training aphorisms are supported by two meditation practices: basic sitting meditation (Shamatha-Vippasyana) and Tonglen.  I've seen that, over time, these three tools have changed my day to day life dramatically. With Practice, I've been able to navigate the inevitable ups and downs of life with increasing ease, kindness, clarity and compassion.  With time, energy, effort and patience, I've been able to be Present more wholeheartedly, moment by moment, to Life.

To wit:

As I sit here and pay attention, I become aware of a clear, bright, vast, and open sense of spaciousness beyond the tunnel vision of my thoughts.  

As I pause and expand my attention to become aware of my body, my breath, and the sights and sounds of the room that I am sitting in, and to the world outside the window, there a palpable shift in my consciousness.  As I come into the present moment more fully,  I can feel its expansiveness throughout my body. I can relax and rest in its embrace. 

Sitting here, breathing in, breathing out,  I'm aware of the dance of my fingers along the surface of this keyboard.  I see that milliseconds before the fingers move, thoughts emerge instantaneously, seemingly from nowhere in particular.  Although, these thoughts are most certainly prompted by my intention to write this blog post, they appear to be emerging by themselves, quite mysteriously.  

Western science claims that these thoughts are epiphenoma, merely brain secretions of some sort, Yet, at this moment.  I experience a connection to something much grander than that.  My heart feels that connection.  I have come to trust that feeling.  A sense of wonder and joy emerges from a vast, luminous Presence that embraces me as I embrace it.   Aware of my feet on the floor, the clicking contact of my fingers on the keyboard, the soft humming of the computer, the wind outside the window, the vast, open spaciousness of a clear and boundless awareness, I feel the Presence of the Sacred.

But, I digress -- sort of.
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#@&*%!!?

"I vow to understand living beings and their suffering, 

to cultivate compassion and loving kindness,
and to practice joy and equanimity."

Thich Nhat Hanh, from "Refuge Poem"

"Give me an F.....

Give me a U.............."

Country Joe McDonald, Introduction to "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' To Die Rag"

Country Joe McDonald

I swear.  Sometimes a lot.  It can be embarrassing. 

These days, I usually (not always) refrain from allowing four letter words to roll out of my mouth when I'm upset.  

 

Yet, the closer I get to a spontaneous expression of awe and joy and gratitude for the Absolute Wonder of Life, the more likely am I to launch forth an "F bomb" -- usually in its forms as an adjective or adverb.   (For example: How F***ing cool is that?)

I guess, more than anything, this tendency to be somewhat foul-mouthed shows my true colors.  I am the prototypical product of the 1960's.  I entered high school in 1960 and graduated from college in 1969.

To be sure, the language that I used freely on the streets on the south side of Chicago as a child was certainly ladden with a few expletives that couldn't be used at home or in school.  Yet, it was fairly tame stuff.   The F word was beyond the pale. Even in high school the word stung my ears.  Yet, by the late sixties, a whole bunch of us were using it quite freely.  Depending on the context, it functioned as a noun, a verb, an adjective, or an adverb.  

Although I began practicing yoga and meditation during my senior year of college in 1969, becoming "spiritual" didn't seem to effect the language that had become part of my normal vocabulary.  Moments of joy and exhilaration  could and would still elicit an exuberant "Far F***ing Out!"

Telling It Like It Is

In the "youth culture" of that era, a whole bunch of us came to see what Jesus and Martin Luther King, Jr. and countless others had seen: War is blasphemous.  Using napalm is obscene.  Launching F bombs?  Not so much.  

In fact, "colorful" language, like colorful clothing, long hair,  and psychotropic drugs, was an integral part of the youth culture.  We were intent on breaking the monochromatic norms of a mainstream society that worshiped the false gods of white supremacy, materialism, competition, environmental degradation and warfare.  We rejected the norms of a "polite society" that was praising Jesus in one breath and supporting the extermination of people halfway around the planet with the other.  

Killing innocent children to "preserve our way of life?"  I mean, like WTF!?

We chose, instead,  to try to pursue a life based on the values of freedom, peace and love.  "Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven" wasn't just something that folks were supposed to recite in church on Sunday.  We believed we were supposed to be living the life of love and compassion that Jesus lived.

And sometimes that just didn't look or sound like we had learned in "polite society." Like the medieval Zen monk Guishan, we knew that kicking over the water jug and stomping out of the temple was sometimes the appropriate move. Rather than live a life of hypocritical piety, we were intent on having some serious fun.   

Country Joe McDonald's infamous call and response introduction to "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die Rag" (Give me an F -- Give me a U..., etc.) exhibited the spirit of the times.  His"foul mouth" not only spiced things up, it got to the heart of the matter.  The iconoclastic spirit of Zen was in the air.  As one of my guiding lights, the late Hippy Guru, Stephen Gaskin, put it at the time: "We're out to raise hell -- in the Bodhisattvic sense." 
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For Unto Us a Child is Born

 

Twelve years ago last Tuesday, Keaton Izzy was born.  It seems like her Incarnation into this dimension was only yesterday -- AND that she has been here forever.  As miraculous today as she was then, she is a on-going reminder of the sacred nature of life on earth.  As Christmas Day 2025 approaches, I thought that I would again share the post I wrote the week of her birth. 
One Love,
Lance 

December 19, 2013

"Each human being is a multiplicity of miracles.  Eyes that see thousands of colors, shapes, and forms; ears that hear a bee flying or a thunderclap; a brain that ponders a speck of dust as easily as the entire cosmos; a heart that beats in rhythm with the heartbeat of all beings."

-- Thich Nhat Hanh 

"Every child born is a living Buddha.  Some of them only get to be a living Buddha for a moment, because nobody believes it."

 -- Stephan Gaskin 

Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin

Originally scheduled for a Christmas Day arrival, Keaton Izzy made her debut appearance on planet Earth in the wee hours of Monday morning.  Nine days "early," she arrived in plenty of time to avoid a head to head competition with Baby Jesus.  

 
Sporting all ten fingers and toes, sparkling with Buddhanature, her birth -- like all births -- is another obvious affirmation of the Miraculous.  As she peered from one face to another, following the sound of our voices, I could feel her Presence as pure, unadulterated Life Force.  She was Love Incarnate. 

Enraptured, my heart opened to the Sacred Mystery as I held her in my arms.  Then, at a certain point, a profound sadness emerged.  

As a child, the Christmas season always brought with it a certain sadness.  Something seemed more than slightly askew.  The idea that the holidays were a special time of mirth and merriment didn't jive with the reality of my life.  Often separated from one -- or both -- of my parents, living in poverty, all those tidings of comfort and joy didn't land well for me.  As the years rolled by, I imagined it was just the chaos and uncertainty of my own childhood that left me feeling sad.  I thought I was just "out of the loop."  

As the years have rolled by,  I have thought that less and less.  Even when the conditions of my life had improved, what I saw in the world around me, the scurry and stress of Christmas shopping, the drunken revelers, the television news full of the violence and warfare, made "peace on earth" and "goodwill toward men"seem like ancient and empty promises. 

Yet, in my heart of hearts, something still whispers to me.   

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Visible to the Naked Eye

“If the doors of perception were cleansed 

every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. 

For man has closed himself up, 

till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.”
― William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell 

“Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child 

 -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”

 
― Thich Nhat Hanh

 

If the truth be told, I guess I've always been a freakin' Geek.  As a youngster, I was curious about everything!  

 

I spent hours and hours observing the weather, stars, clouds, rocks, fossils, trees, bumblebees, ants, frogs, birds, squirrels, whatever.

It all fascinated me.
 

In school, when I wasn't parked in the corner (or the hallway) for not being able to sit still and keep my mouth shut, I loved learning just for the sake of learning.  Although this meant that I had my nose in a book a lot of the time, I also was quite "hands on."  I loved to do natural science.  I explored. I collected. I identified. I classified.  

 

I also loved to explore man-made things.  After a few missteps, I quickly learned to choose my battles wisely.  I promised I would only take apart certain "approved" items to see what made them tick.  Sometimes, I was even able to "fix them" and/or successfully put them back together. 

 

One morning, I found a broken box camera in the alley.  I immediately took it home and disassembled it.  I soon noticed that everything appeared to be upside down when I peered through one of the lenses.   

 

WTF?  

 

Moments later, I discovered the world righted itself and things were bigger when I lined up two of the lenses I had removed. Within a half an hour, I had made a simple telescope. That night, I charted the position of the bright star that appeared outside my bedroom window.  The next day my teacher told me that this particular orb was actually the planet Jupiter! He then showed me a drawing of the entire solar system! I went home, an aspiring astronomer.  I gazed at the moon through my telescope, and kept track of Jupiter's change in position each night in my notebook-- until a new project appeared to capture my attention.  

 

Yet, although I was rewarded with acknowledgment and a few gold stars for such things, I soon learned that another arena of curiosity and exploration wasn't going to be welcomed at all.  I had many experiences that brimmed with a sense of mystery and magic.  Yet, these early perceptions of the spiritual dimension of life were consistently ignored, avoided, -- or squashed.  The adults in my life didn't seem to have a clue.

That should come as no surprise.  

 

Like most of you who may be reading this, I grew up in a culture immersed for centuries in a civilization steeped in scientific materialism.  In a society supercharged by a capitalist economy laced with white supremacy, and a distorted and limited form of Christianity, the spiritual dimension of life is generally distrusted, feared, or dismissed as superstition.  It was presented as either a scary movie realm of ghosts and demons -- or a "heavenly realm" that can only be experienced after death.  To make matters worse, this heaven was said to be an exclusive, "members only" destination.  It was only available to those who believe in a set of certain specific things about the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth.  

 

If, like the vast majority of human beings throughout the history of our species, a person believed differently, they were promised an eternity of extreme, torturous, cruelty and suffering.  As a young child, this version of a God who Jesus called a loving father, and the Bible proclaimed was Love itself, made no sense to me.  

 

I'd already glimpsed something much more amazing and affirming.

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