a buddhist perspective

Many of us are or have been fortunate enough to have loving parents who tried their very best for us. Others, unfortunately, have or had parents who were less than ideal or even abusive. As Buddhists, we believe that we are drawn to our parents because of karmic connections. After death and before our next birth, we are plunged into darkness. In that overwhelming confusion, we are pulled to our parents as if they were a tiny beacon of light piercing that darkness.

There are four reasons that we are drawn to and born to our parents : to repay a kindness, to have kindness repaid to us, to repay a debt, or to exact repayment of a debt.

The child who is well behaved when young and loving when grown, and who affectionately tends to the parents’ needs and wishes is repaying past kindness. The parent who tenderly cares for the infant and who does everything he or she can to provide for the growing child’s physical and emotional needs is repaying kindness to the child. The unselfish care of both the attentive child and the caring parents in these two examples is natural and freely given. The attention and nurturing continue as long as the kind­ness from an earlier lifetime is yet to be repaid and the thoughtfulness yet to be returned.

On the other hand, the child who owes a debt to the parent may well spend a lifetime trying to please or provide for the parent. Although the parent may not acknowledge and may even put down the child’s efforts, the child will continue to repay the debt that he or she owes from an earlier lifetime. Whatever the debt may be, the repayment could be financial or entail physical effort, or it could take other forms.

The child who comes to exact repayment of a debt may cause the parent endless worry and pain by being disobedient or demanding. They may fall ill frequently or have an ongoing medical condition and need much attention and care from the parent.

Regardless of the reason we are born to our parents and regardless of their treatment of us, we still owe our parents an immense debt of gratitude. Even if our parents did nothing else for us, and most par­ents do not fall into this category, at the very least they provided us with the physical opportunity to be born. For nine months, our mothers carried and nur­tured us until we reached the time of birth. They then underwent many hours of pain to bring us safely into this world. For many of us, our parents looked after us for years, sacrificing their personal comfort so we might have better lives than theirs.

But if our parents did not care for and nurture us, and if all they did was to give us our body and thus our life, we still cannot repay our debt of gratitude to them. Without them, we would not be here today striving to learn how to be more compassionate, altruistic beings.

So whatever the reasons we were born to our parents, whatever the circumstances we grew up in, however we feel about our parents, our debt to them is immeasurable.

Master Kuang-ch’in said "Treat others neither overly kind nor too harsh."

Yesterday I wrote of according with—not seeking—affinities. The master’s advice shows some ways we can do this. He’s talking about balance, about the middle way.

If we are either too kind or too harsh, we push the extremes in our relationships with others.

On the one hand, if we are too kind, although our kindness may well be sincere, we may stifle others and keep them from growing. If we are too kind while our kindness is not sincere, we are acting falsely and thus misleading others. When the individual learns of our insincerity, it is most likely that he or she will feel negatively toward us.

On the other hand, if we are too harsh we run the serious risk of fostering an enmity. While firmness is necessary at times, we need to temper it with wisdom, not with anger or other negative emotions. Without wisdom, we can force the other person into a corner. He or she might come out fighting and we will have an enmity. Or the individual may simply give up and we will have stifled the other person and hindered their growth.

So acting too kind or too harshly runs the risk of not helping the other person and fostering an enmity. No good karmic consequences. No helping others. No middle way.

Long ago, in the hills of the Himalayas near a lotus pool, the Buddha was once born as a baby elephant. He was a magnificent elephant, pure white with feet and face the color of coral. His trunk gleamed like a silver rope and his ivory tusks curled up in a long arc.

He followed his mother everywhere. She plucked the tenderest leaves and sweetest mangoes from the tall trees and gave them to him. "First you, then me," she said. She bathed him in the cool lotus pool among the fragrant flowers. Drawing the sparkling water up in her trunk, she sprayed him over the top of his head and back until he shone. Then filling his trunk with water, he took careful aim and squirted a perfect geyser right between his mother's eyes. Without blinking, she squirted him back. And back and forth, they gleefully squirted and splashed each other. Splish! Splash!

Then they rested in the soft muck with their trunks curled together. In the deep shadows of afternoon, the mother elephant rested in the shade of a rose-apple tree and watched her son romp and frolic with the other baby elephants. The little elephant grew and grew until he was the tallest and strongest young bull in the herd. And while he grew taller and stronger, his mother grew older and older. Her tusks were yellow and broken and in time she became blind. The young elephant plucked the tenderest leaves and sweetest mangoes from the tall trees and gave them to his dear old blind mother. "First you, then me," he said.

He bathed her in the cool lotus pool among the fragrant flowers. Drawing the sparkling water up in his trunk, he sprayed her over the top of her head and back until she shone. Then they rested in the soft muck with their trunks curled together. In the deep shadows of afternoon, the young elephant guided his mother to the shade of a rose-apple tree. Then he went roaming with the other elephants. One day a king was hunting and spied the beautiful white elephant. "What a splendid animal! I must have him to ride upon!" So the king captured the elephant and put him in the royal stable. He adorned him with silk and jewels and garlands of lotus flowers. He gave him sweet grass and juicy plums and filled his trough with pure water.

But the young elephant would not eat or drink. He wept and wept, growing thinner each day. "Noble elephant," said the king, "I adorn you with silk and jewels. I give you the finest food and the purest water, yet you do not eat or drink. What will please you?" The young elephant said, "Silk and jewels, food and drink do not make me happy. My blind old mother is alone in the forest with no one to care for her. Though I may die, I will take no food or water until I give some to her first."

The king said, "Never have I seen such kindness, not even among humans. It is not right to keep this young elephant in chains." Free, the young elephant raced through the hills looking for his mother. He found her by the lotus pool. There she lay in the mud, too weak to move. With tears in his eyes, he filled his trunk with water and sprayed the top of her head and back until she shone. "Is it raining?" she asked. "Or has my son returned to me?" "It is your very own son!" he cried. "The king has set me free!" As he washed her eyes, a miracle happened. Her sight returned. "May the king rejoice today as I rejoice at seeing my son again!" she said.

The young elephant then plucked the tenderest leaves and sweetest mangoes from a tree and gave them to her. "First you, then me."

He who receives kindness should never forget it,
but he who performs it should never remember it.

We should always be grateful for the kindness that others show towards us. Kindness can relieve our fears and worries, and lessen our suffering. Remembering the kindness of others, we will be more inclined to pass the kindness on because we know how much it meant to us.

But why should we not remember when we are kind to others?

Thinking of our kindness to others can result in our looking down on the person who needed our help. Feelings of superiority can arise as we mentally pat ourselves on the shoulder and the other on her head, like we would a child. There goes our regarding all beings equally.

As we dwell on our good actions, we tend to congratulate ourselves. Unaware of what is happening, we allow pride to creep in. And there goes our humility. The Buddha warned us of the four poisons of greed, anger, ignorance, and arrogance. Even a touch of pride is arrogance. So just as we need to guard against any rising of anger or craving, we need to also guard against pride.

With our act of kindness, we laid the foundation for the future enjoyment of some good fortune. Ideally, we will want to use our good fortune to continue helping others. But if we ourselves enjoy our good fortune, for example by feeling even a trace of pride, we reduce that good fortune. So it is much better to dwell on thoughts of the kindness of others and to let go of memories of our own kindness.

In life, it seems that so many of our hopes and expectations remain unfulfilled. And what of those that are? They end all too quickly. We can walk around in a perpetual gloom over our disappointments and frustrations. Or, we can look around us and realize that others are probably equally unhappy, and very likely, even more so. Seeing the sufering in someone’s eyes, or hearing the sadness or worry in their voice, how can we not care? How can we not be kind?