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Compassion
is a Verb
by
Sharon Salzberg
As Thich
Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen monk, points out,
"Compassion is a verb". It is not a thought or
a sentimental feeling, but is rather a movement of the
heart. As classically defined in Pali, compassion is
"the trembling or the quivering of the heart".
But how do we get our hearts to do that? How do we
"do" compassion?
Compassion
is born out of lovingkindness. It is born of knowing
our oneness, not just thinking about it or wishing it
were so. It is born out of the wisdom of seeing things
exactly as they are. But compassion also arises from the
practice of inclining the mind, of refining our
intention. The Dalai Lama once said, "I don't know
why people like me so much. It must be because I try to
be compassionate, to have bodhicitta, the
aspiration of compassion." He doesn't claim success
- he claims a commitment to really trying.
Is there
a difference, in quality or quantity, between the
compassion any of us might feel and the compassion of
the Dalai Lama? Is it that he experiences more
compassionate moments in a row? Or is the actual quality
of compassion different?
While
this can be seen from many different perspectives, one
traditional view would say that a moment of compassion
any one of us feels is as pure, as deep, as direct as
anyone else's; but what happens is that we may lose
touch with it more often. We get distracted, we forget,
we get caught up in something else, or we confuse
another feeling for the state of compassion.
We might
at times think that we are feeling compassion when in
fact what we are feeling is fear. We may be afraid to
take an action, to confront a person or a situation, to
be forceful or to reach out. Under the guise of
believing we are being kind and compassionate, we hold
back. From the Buddhist perspective, this lack of effort
to ease our own or another's suffering is seen as lack
of courage. Because it is not easy to see lack of
courage in oneself, we prefer to think we are being
compassionate rather than afraid.
Another
state of mind that is often confused with compassion is
guilt. When we see someone who is suffering while we are
fairly happy, or if we are happy in a way that another
person is not, we might inwardly feel that we do not
deserve our happiness, or that we should hold back our
happiness out of pity for the other. But guilt, in
Buddhist psychology, is defined as a type of self-hatred
and a form of anger.
Certainly
there are times when we recognize that we have acted
unskillfully, and we feel concern and remorse. This kind
of remorse can be important and healing. This is in
contrast to the guilt we feel as a state of contraction,
in which we endlessly review what we might have done or
said in the past. In this state of guilt we become
center stage; rather than acting to serve others, we act
to get rid of the guilt and thus only serve ourselves.
Guilt drains our energy, whereas compassion gives us the
strength to reach out to help others.
In order
to let go of the feelings of fear and guilt, and move
into true compassion, we need to see without hesitation
whatever we may be feeling or doing. One of the virtues
of awareness is that we can simply look without judgment
at what we are actually experiencing. Not being afraid
of our fear or guilt, we can say, "Oh, yes, that's
fear, that's guilt; that's what's happening right
now." And then we can reestablish our intention to
be compassionate.
When we
practice compassion, we may make the mistake of trying
to lay a veneer of caring on top of whatever we are
actually feeling: "I mustn't feel fear, I mustn't
feel guilt, I must only feel compassion, because that is
my dedication." It is important to remember,
though, that the clarity at the heart of compassion
comes from wisdom. We don't have to struggle to be
someone we are not, hating ourselves for our confused
feelings. Seeing clearly what is happening is the ground
out of which compassion will arise.
What is most
important is the mind's unshakable intention to see
through to the root of suffering. We need strength,
courage, and wisdom to be able to open so deeply. And
then the compassion can come forth.
The state of
compassion is whole and sustaining; the compassionate
mind is not broken or shattered by facing states of
suffering. It is spacious and resilient. Compassion
is nourished by the
wisdom of our interconnectedness. This understanding
transcends a martyrdom in which we habitually think only
of others, never caring about ourselves, And it
transcends a self-centered caring in which we have
concern only about ourselves and never bother about
others. Wisdom
of our interconnectedness arises band in hand with
learning to truly love ourselves. The Buddha said that
if we truly loved ourselves, we would never harm
another. For in harming another, we diminish who we are.
When we can love ourselves, we give up the idea that we
do not deserve the love and attention we are
theoretically willing to give to others.
By bringing awareness
to the truth of the present moment, and also holding a
vision of our heart's deepest wish to be loving toward
all, we establish our dedication to compassion. Perhaps
the shining manifestation of compassion in the Dalai
Lama is a reflection not only of the number of moments
he is compassionate, or of how these moments transform
the quality of his presence, but also a reflection of
his complete confidence in the possibility and
importance of being a truly loving person.
 This
article was
excerpted from
"A
Heart As Wide As The World:
Stories on the Path of Lovingkindness"
by Sharon Salzberg.
Info/Order
this book
About The
Author
Sharon
Salzberg is a cofounder of the Insight Meditation Society in Barre,
Massachusetts, and author of Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of
Happiness. This article is excerpted with permission from her book
"A Heart As Wide As The World", ©1997, published by
Shambhala Publications, Inc., Boston. www.shambhala.com.
For a schedule of Sharon's workshops, visit http://www.dharma.org/sharon/sharon.htm
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