a buddhist perspective

Before I left Indiana for this trip to Australia, I was asked about a phrase the person had read in Buddhist books, "Everything is perfect." Considering the state of the world, she was wondering how it could be possibly called "perfect."

The explanation was as she thought it might be.

Everything is perfect doesn't mean that everything is wonderful and could not be improved upon. It means that everything is exactly the way it is supposed to be. The rain is perfect because it is supposed to be raining. The sunshine is perfect because it is supposed to be cloudless day. So when it rains, I can relax and enjoy the rain; be it a soothing, gentle rain or a welcome downpour that will fill our water tanks. On sunny days, I can revel in the glorious, clear sunlight that almost glitters on the leaves of the tree outside my window.

Those two examples are fairly straightforward. But what about war? What about global warming? What about people who are starving? How can anyone possibly say these are "perfect"?

Again, perfect does not mean something is good, it means it was destined to be that way due to former thoughts, speech, and actions. As horrible as war, global warming, and starvation are, they are the appropriate consequence for the cause.

But saying the consequence fits the cause in no way means we can simply shrug our shoulders and say, "Oh well, it's their own fault." The first vow of bodhisattvas is to help all beings. Remember, the "perfect" consequence is not good, it is "appropriate." The phrase everything is perfect is said to help us understand why things have happened. As compassionate human beings, we need to try to help others. We need to find the way to end our anger, to help remove the cause of future wars. We need to live as modestly as possible to have a minimum impact on our environment. We who have more than enough need to share what we have with those who have little to help alleviate their hunger.

"Everything is perfect" can also serve to remind us that our consequences will likewise be "perfect." So if we want these consequences to be good, we need to choose our thoughts, speech, and actions wisely.  

When your mind is in a state of torpor or when delusive thoughts arise unchecked, compose yourself and recite the Buddha's name aloud a few hundred times. You will then naturally experience a pure, peaceful state. This is because the faculty of hearing is very keen and therefore people are easily influenced by external factors which disturb the mind and lead to errant, delusive thoughts. Thus, you need to recite aloud to control the faculty of hearing and enlighten the mind. When the mind hears only its own sounds, each sound in its totality following upon the one before, all thoughts of right and wrong, what should and should not be done, are naturally abandoned.

~ Taming the Monkey Mind, 

Picture in your mind an image of the Buddha—an awakened being. What qualities does this image bring to mind? Restraint and dignity. Patience and compassion. Contentment and great ease. These are the qualities we need to uncover within ourselves if we are to, like him, awaken.

But our lives today are so frantic. We have so much to do. We rush from one task to another. We even have a term for it—multitasking. With so much to do, we must be impor­tant people! It is so easy to be seduced by current ideas of what a successful person is. We have seriously strayed from our inner virtues. We practice little restraint. We exhibit little dignity. We are hurting ourselves. And even worse, we are causing great harm to our children. We are setting them on a path that will lead them even farther away from their innate goodness and virtues.

Instead of passing on our bad habits of self-indulgence and instant gratification to our children, we need to teach them what is important in life—how to become truly contented and caring people. Contented, caring people have no room for craving or hatred in their hearts. Such people have no room for thoughts of retalia­tion in their minds. Such people are worthy of the respect and trust of others. Such people are at ease with life.

And when sad or even terrible things happen, they are not overcome by fear or sorrow. They are able to con­trol their fear and transform it into love. They know the futility of doing otherwise; they know the great harm they can do to those they love more than life itself.

 

When we are learning Buddhism, we gradually begin to have brief glimmers of understanding. With these glimmers, we understand we need to let go of our old egoistic ways of doing things. But we need to go further. If we only drop the old without taking up the wiser way, we won’t go far.

It’s like a flat tire. If we take off the flat and then drive off we’re in trouble. We need to put on the good tire before we proceed.

Getting angry is the flat tire. Patience is the good tire.

Selfishness is the flat tire. Generosity is the good tire.

Becoming depressed because we’re not doing everything right is the flat tire. Knowing that we’re now trying to do as the Buddhas taught but it will take time for us to completely reform is the good tire.

We need to complete the process and put on that new tire before we can effectively continue our journey.

One time when the Buddha was staying in Sravasti, an incident came to his attention. Close to where he was visiting resided a number of monks and nuns. It happened that when some nuns were spoken ill of, one of the monks would become angry. When that monk was spoken ill of, the nuns would become angry. After confirming with the monk that this was accurate, the Buddha advised the monk that he should discipline himself and hold the thoughts: “My mind will not change [be swayed], I will not utter evil words, I will abide with compassion and loving kindness without an angry thought.” [1]

The Buddha then told the monastics to always remember that even ordinarily calm minds can be disturbed in difficult times. So the monastics needed to train themselves to remain calm, regardless of the situation. The Buddha recounted how there was once a woman who lived in the same city where he and the monastics currently were. Everyone regarded the woman as gentle and quiet. She had a slave named Kali who was clever and hardworking. Kali wondered whether her mistress was as mild-tempered as she seemed. Might her mistress actually be hiding a bad temper? Perhaps Kali was so effi­cient that her mistress had not had cause to reveal her true temper!

Kali decided to test her mistress by getting up later than usual one morning. When the mistress saw Kali and asked her why she got up late, Kali responded that she did not have a reason. The mistress became angry. The next morning Kali got up even later. Once more, her mistress questioned her. And once more, Kali replied that she did not have a reason. When this happened yet again on the third morning, the infuriated mistress struck Kali. Bleed­ing, Kali ran out of the house crying out that her mistress had hit her because she had gotten up late! Word of what had happened spread and with it the report that the mistress was actually violent and bad-tempered.

The Buddha pointed out to the monastics that as long as they did not hear anything disagreeable or unpleasant, most of them were quiet and well behaved. But when they heard something objectionable, such words became a test as to whether they were truly calm and polite. The Buddha gave an example: Monks may be gentle and kind because they have everything they need. But if they become upset when their needs go unfulfilled, then they are not truly gentle.

[1] Sister Upalavanna, translator, Kakacupama Sutta, MN 21, (http://www.saigon.com/~anson/ebud/majjhima/021-kakacupama-sutta-e1.htm)