In the following guest-post, Adam Goldberg reflects on the meaning of equanimity in the face of one of life's most difficult moments. Adam is spending one year in Asia, exploring how Buddhism is interpreted and understood in the face of conflict and violence and, ultimately, how it is used as a vehicle for building peace. Follow his blog at asolutionwithin.wordpress.com.
Crying at a Buddhist Funeral
The room is a blurry haze; the bright orange of monastic
robes saturate her vision and her feet seem to hover as she moves to an open
chair. Her mind is distant and she can’t feel a thing but for a sensation of
cold emptiness that presses against her chest, growing and growing, threatening
to freeze her. She raises her eyes – they are heavy and wet with tears – but the
faces of those around her are tranquil; at ease, as if someone has not just
died.
*****
Having just finished a two week Vipassana meditation retreat
in Burma, I was impressed by the calm, serene and balanced composure of the
Sayadaws (teachers). I couldn’t help but wonder, would they cry at a
funeral? What keeps equanimity from becoming indifference, or rather, isn’t
equanimity indifference?
The mental state of upekkha, equanimity, is essential
to attain enlightenment. It enables us to maintain mindfulness (sati) in
every situation. We could be eating good food or tasteless food, experiencing
immense pain or pleasure, cursed or praised, and upekkha will protect us
from being carried away by these experiences. Nonattachment is unbroken in its
presence, and Right View is affirmed as we recall that everything breaks down
to nama-rupa, or mind-matter phenomena which arises and ceases in each
moment. One technique I have come across to generate equanimity is to think of
someone’s misfortune or fortune as the reaping of his or her kamma.
Wait. What does that really mean? If a bus is out of control
and unable to steer itself away from an oblivious man, should we warn him? If
we don’t, is it not because of his kamma that he will be killed and his
own fault? This is simplistic, I know, but it gets to the point – if bad
fortune is due to that person’s bad kamma, should we feel responsible to
help those who are vulnerable? If so, where does that sense of responsibility
come from?
In Sayadaw U Pandita’s book, “In This Very Life”, he writes
“equanimity is not insensitivity, indifference or apathy. It is simply
nonpreferential. Under its influence, one does not push aside the things one
dislikes nor grasps at things one prefers. The mind rests in an attitude of
balance and acceptance of things as they are.” If not insensitivity, then is
equanimity sensitivity? If not indifference and apathy, is it caring? And
finally, how can we be “nonpreferential” while exercising another of the
sublime mental states (Brahmin Vihara) – compassion? To me, compassion (karuna)
necessarily implies a preference, namely that I am unpleased with the current situation
and wish to improve it.
In U Pandita’s discourse, he emphasizes the importance of
cultivating compassion alongside wisdom, so action is be guided with
precise aim to effectuate positive change. Compassion without wisdom can be
extremely dangerous; we act with a desire to do good, but in fact cause more
harm! We may justify the impact of our actions by proudly standing behind our
intentions. But as the saying goes, “the road to hell is paved with good
intentions.” Clearly, compassion isn’t enough.
Wisdom (panna) and equanimity go hand-in-hand. One of
the three characteristics of existence (tilakkhana) is anatta, or
non-self. Anatta is a profound concept and definitions like “devoid of
an inherent existence” can be misleadingly vague. I will not elaborate on anatta
here, but I encourage you to see link below for an in-depth description.
Instead, I’d like to point out the implication of anatta: we are not
truly in control of ourselves or the world around us; we cannot stop aging, nor
can we control the choices our loved ones make. Some things will not go as
planned no matter how hard we try; inevitably yielding results that can be
disappointing. And it is undeniable that the more we invest ourselves in
effort, the more attached we can become to the result. Anatta reminds us
the folly of such investment.
Understanding this aspect of anatta, equanimity is
steadfast and strong. Actions are not influenced by attachments but guided by
the clarity of wisdom. Neither “success” nor “failure” distracts us from our
goal, allowing us to reassess and invest ourselves in the situation free from
emotional antagonisms. Fortified by equanimity, compassion takes its noblest
form: accurate, effective, and unquestionably selfless.
“What the Buddha Taught” by Walpola Rahula, online &
free: https://sites.google.com/site/rahulawhatthebuddha/the-doctrine-of-no-soul
