take in the bad and give out the good. Compassion is not a matter of pity or the strong helping the weak; it’s a relationship between equals, one of mutual support. Practicing tonglen, we come to realize that other people’s welfare is just as important as our own. In helping them, we help ourselves. In helping ourselves, we help the world.
8
The Catalyst for Compassion
S OMEONE SENT ME a poem that seems to capture the essence of the warrior commitment—empathy for other beings. Called “Birdfoot’s Grampa,” the poem is about a boy and his grandfather who are driving on a country road in a rainstorm. The grandfather keeps stopping the car and getting out to scoop up handfuls of toads that are all over the road and deposit them safely at the roadside. After the twenty-fourth time he’s done this, the boy loses patience and tells his grandfather, “You can’t save them all / accept it, get back in / we’ve got places to go.” And the grandfather, knee deep in wet grass, his hands full of toads, just smiles at his grandson and says, “They have places to go too.”
What a clear illustration of how this commitment works. The grandfather didn’t mind stopping for the twenty-fourth time, didn’t mind getting wet to save the toads. He also didn’t mind the impatience of his grandson, because he was very clear in his mind that the frogs had as much desire to live as he did.
The aspiration of the second commitment—to care for all beings everywhere—is huge. But whether we’re making this commitment for the very first time or we’re renewing it for the umpteenth time, we start exactly where we are now. We’re either closer to the grandson or closer to the grandfather, but wherever we are, that’s where we start.
It’s said that when we make this commitment, it sows a seed deep in our unconscious, deep in our mind and heart, that never goes away. This seed is a catalyst that jump-starts our inherent capacity for love and compassion, for empathy, for seeing the sameness of us all. So we make the commitment, we sow the seed, and then do our best to never harden our heart or close our mind to anyone.
It’s not easy to keep this vow, of course. But every time we break it, what’s important is that we recognize that we’ve closed someone out, that we’ve distanced ourselves from someone, that we’ve turned someone into the Other, the one on the opposite side of the fence. Often we’re so full of righteous indignation, so charged up, that we don’t even see that we’ve been triggered. But if we’re fortunate, we realize what’s happened—or it’s pointed out to us—and we acknowledge to ourselves what we’ve done. Then we simply renew our commitment to stay open to others, aspiring to start fresh.
Some people like to read or recite an inspiring verse as part of renewing their commitment. One we could use is the verse from Shantideva that is traditionally repeated to reaffirm the intention to benefit others:
Just as the awakened ones of the past
Aroused an awakened mind
And progressively established themselves
In the practices of the Bodhisattva,
So I too for the benefit of beings
Shall arouse an awakened mind
And progressively train myself in those practices.
We repeat these words or something similar to renew our commitment; then it’s a new moment and we go forward.We will stumble again and start again over and over, but as long as the seed is planted, we will always be moving in the direction of being more and more open to others, more and more compassionate and caring.
The commitment to take care of one another, the warrior commitment, is not about being perfect. It’s about continuing to put virtuous input into our unconscious, continuing to sow the seeds that predispose our heart to expand without limit, that predispose us to awaken. Every time we recognize that we’ve broken this commitment, rather than criticize ourselves, rather than sow seeds of self-judgment and
8
The Catalyst for Compassion
S OMEONE SENT ME a poem that seems to capture the essence of the warrior commitment—empathy for other beings. Called “Birdfoot’s Grampa,” the poem is about a boy and his grandfather who are driving on a country road in a rainstorm. The grandfather keeps stopping the car and getting out to scoop up handfuls of toads that are all over the road and deposit them safely at the roadside. After the twenty-fourth time he’s done this, the boy loses patience and tells his grandfather, “You can’t save them all / accept it, get back in / we’ve got places to go.” And the grandfather, knee deep in wet grass, his hands full of toads, just smiles at his grandson and says, “They have places to go too.”
What a clear illustration of how this commitment works. The grandfather didn’t mind stopping for the twenty-fourth time, didn’t mind getting wet to save the toads. He also didn’t mind the impatience of his grandson, because he was very clear in his mind that the frogs had as much desire to live as he did.
The aspiration of the second commitment—to care for all beings everywhere—is huge. But whether we’re making this commitment for the very first time or we’re renewing it for the umpteenth time, we start exactly where we are now. We’re either closer to the grandson or closer to the grandfather, but wherever we are, that’s where we start.
It’s said that when we make this commitment, it sows a seed deep in our unconscious, deep in our mind and heart, that never goes away. This seed is a catalyst that jump-starts our inherent capacity for love and compassion, for empathy, for seeing the sameness of us all. So we make the commitment, we sow the seed, and then do our best to never harden our heart or close our mind to anyone.
It’s not easy to keep this vow, of course. But every time we break it, what’s important is that we recognize that we’ve closed someone out, that we’ve distanced ourselves from someone, that we’ve turned someone into the Other, the one on the opposite side of the fence. Often we’re so full of righteous indignation, so charged up, that we don’t even see that we’ve been triggered. But if we’re fortunate, we realize what’s happened—or it’s pointed out to us—and we acknowledge to ourselves what we’ve done. Then we simply renew our commitment to stay open to others, aspiring to start fresh.
Some people like to read or recite an inspiring verse as part of renewing their commitment. One we could use is the verse from Shantideva that is traditionally repeated to reaffirm the intention to benefit others:
Just as the awakened ones of the past
Aroused an awakened mind
And progressively established themselves
In the practices of the Bodhisattva,
So I too for the benefit of beings
Shall arouse an awakened mind
And progressively train myself in those practices.
We repeat these words or something similar to renew our commitment; then it’s a new moment and we go forward.We will stumble again and start again over and over, but as long as the seed is planted, we will always be moving in the direction of being more and more open to others, more and more compassionate and caring.
The commitment to take care of one another, the warrior commitment, is not about being perfect. It’s about continuing to put virtuous input into our unconscious, continuing to sow the seeds that predispose our heart to expand without limit, that predispose us to awaken. Every time we recognize that we’ve broken this commitment, rather than criticize ourselves, rather than sow seeds of self-judgment and
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