PERFECTING THE PARAMITAS PATIENCE 2010.5

Today, in the fifth of the eight segments, we will examine the third of the Six Perfections,

Kshanti Paramita, or Patience. As with most of the teachings of Buddhism, there is an

apparent meaning we attribute to practicing patience; there are misconceptions regarding

what patience means, and in Buddhism we would say there is such a thing as true

patience, which may be very different from the conventional understanding. In the

Introduction segment, I asked that while we often think of practicing patience with the

failings and follies of others, how do we come to tolerate our own? If we are unable to

exercise patience, or forbearance, with our own foolishness, how will we ever have

patience for others? So the Buddhist meaning of patience would be based upon the non-duality of

self and other.

Reviewing the words of Matsuoka-roshi from the volume Mokurai, Chapter 3: Zen Mind

is Ordinary Mind:

The second Paramita asks us to observe the precepts handed down to us by

the Historical or Sakyamuni Buddha. The eight-fold Path of Right Views

and Behavior; and the Ten Prohibitory Precepts, which prohibit behavior

which would harm others, are all given to us an example of a moral life.

In Buddhism, the world of Samsara, of everyday life, is sometimes called the Saha world

of patience. It seems that everything in this life tests or tries our patience. Not only

people, but places and things as well. People test our patience sometimes seemingly more

than other circumstances, but even places that we go, or happen to be — the weather, or

conditions caused by traffic, or by natural disasters, such as the earthquake in Haiti,

mosquitoes in the tropics; even natural changes of climate can be stressful.

And things. Anyone who works with materials finds that things do not behave as we

might wish them to. That is, materials behave according to their own physics. If the

craftsman in the shop, or the carpenter building the house, does not understand the

behavior of those materials, a lot of frustration ensues; a lot of impatience, as inanimate

things, materials and objects seem to be frustrating one’s will. Including tools, materials,

and processes, and so forth, that one is attempting to use. Many times, the small details of

the craft do not make sense logically, where, for instance, one wood screw snaps off

when many others didn’t.

But generally, people find most of their problems in practicing patience with other

people. This is why, in Buddhism, amongst the Three Treasures, Buddha, Dharma, and

Sangha, sangha practice is the most difficult because it tries our patience. Sangha practice

involves personality differences — ego, status, and prestige. It tests our sense of

importance of our role and place in the community, the microcosm at the Zen center, and

by extension, the larger context of our social network.

Just the required responsibility and sharing of the dharma assets, can become points of

contention. Such as the zendo, the Zen center space, working in the kitchen, and running

up against different attitudes and opinions, rules and traditions about how things should

be done, sometimes called control issues. Sangha as a dimension of practice is the most

difficult of the three in that way, in the social sense.

Study of dharma requires a different kind of patience. Reading through translations of

ancient texts can be trying. They may seem overly flowery and redundant, until one

realizes that these are based on oral tradition — chanting — in which repetition is a very

necessary part of the process of memorizing teachings that were not written down. Then

there is the issue of meaning that may be lost in the choices of translators, interpreting a

more pictorial language and conforming it to linear English. Also wading through

sometimes extremely dense intellectual constructions, sometimes seemingly intentional

obfuscation of various principles, as if the teachers are hiding something up their sleeves.

The study of dharma can be difficult and trying to one’s patience in a similar way. But it

is simpler than sangha practice.

Buddha practice on the cushion, that is, direct experience in meditation, or zazen, tests

our patience in yet a third way, patience with the self. Of course, patience with sangha

and dharma are also, fundamentally, problems of patience with oneself. As we enter into

meditation practice, we are more alone, basically on our own, than when dealing with

sangha or studying the written record. Naturally, we have expectations. If we did not hold

some aspiration, or have some expectation, it is unlikely that we would have the energy

and the devotion, to take the time, and to put the kind of effort into meditation that is

required. Zen meditation itself becomes a study in patience.

When we sit in meditation we are often assailed by feelings of doubt or guilt, that we are

being selfish. There are a lot of other things that we could be doing, or possibly should be

doing. Taking care of business at home, or at the workplace; in terms of our family,

education, financial responsibilities, and so forth. All of this requires a great deal of

patience in accepting these feelings of conflict and frustration — and inadequacy — that

may arise.

In discussing Generosity Paramita, we emphasized the need to be generous to ourselves,

to allow ourselves a certain window of opportunity to experience the benefits of

meditation practice. Similarly, when it comes to patience, we have to be patient with

ourselves. To some degree, we must be comfortable with allowing ourselves a moderate

amount of time and intensity of effort to devote to this meditation practice. If we are not

able to commit sufficient time and effort, it is probably better that we do not do it at all.

Although we say, five minutes meditation – five minutes buddha; half an hour meditation

– half an hour buddha; if we cannot develop a sufficient degree of intensity of practice,

then, while it is relatively harmless, and therefore not doing more harm than good, it is

not really doing very much good, either. It may be better to defer Zen practice until such

time that our life is in better order. When we have taken care of business on the personal,

professional and family level, we will have the time to devote sufficiently to this practice.

It is up to each of us to decide how to sneak Zen meditation into our daily life, in such a

way that it supports, and does not compete with, our other responsibilities.

For most people in the American or Western culture, full-time Zen practice probably

amounts to a retirement option. Something that people can begin to do in their fifties or

sixties, when they have attended to the needs of their profession, career and family, and

are able to retire, at least partially, with sufficient income, to free up the time to devote to

meditation practice. More especially, in the case of offering to lead others in practice and

teaching, the role of a priest can become a relatively demanding, full-time obligation.

While Zen fits readily into our daily life, in that it doesn’t take a lot of time — sitting

maybe a half hour to an hour or more each day, sitting with a group maybe once a week

on average — if we cannot even find the time for this level of practice, then it may be

better for now to defer, and get our lives in order so that we can have sufficient time in

future. There is an urgency to Zen — no time to waste — but if we are not able to act

upon that urgency, we may be wasting our time by making Zen practice just another

conflicting demand amongst many. And the others may represent prior commitments.

Patience comes into play when we experience conflict. Most of the time, one activity, one

responsibility, seems to conflict with another. In order to take care of one need, to do one

thing that we want or need to do, we have to postpone or avoid doing something else that

may also need to be done. And they both may seem just as important, or one may turn out

to be even more important than we once thought. Resolving conflicts between competing

demands and choosing what to do, and where to spend our time and effort, is a daily

challenge that all people face. Some things are important but not urgent; others may be

urgent but not all that important; some may be both important and urgent (these are the

priorities); others may be neither important nor urgent. But often, we do not know for

sure. When we are involved in a great many projects, they can all seem to be competing

with each other for our attention. Every responsibility or obligation that we have can be

seen to be frustrating the others.

Zen practice and theory indicates that this conundrum is more or less a product of our

imagination. It is not that our projects are not important or urgent; or both; or neither. It is

that they tend to loom artificially large in our imagination, threatening dire consequences,

when the actual outcome may turn out to be trivial or short-lived. In the meantime, we

expend a lot of blood, sweat and tears, unnecessarily. Not to mention an overinvestment

of time into the project, worrying the details. “Don’t sweat the small stuff” is the saying,

with its corollary, “It’s all small stuff.” Through Zen, we develop a perspective on this.

Daily concerns tend to overwhelm us and distract us from more fundamental issues that

are postponed, and go unresolved. Thus, in the midst of our efforts to take care of

business in the realm of Samsara, daily life, we find something in the back of our mind

distracting us, and getting in the way. We go through life with a vague sense that there is

something missing, and we do not know what it is. In Zen we find what is missing.

It may be a matter of creativity, or lack of creativity, in our approach to the many things

that we need to do. Zen psychology suggests that most of our difficulty is our own

resistance, just as it is in zazen. So, practicing patience with our own resistance, our own

self-fulfilling, and self-defeating, tendencies to get in our own way, is perhaps the most

central, or personal, dimension of the practice of patience.

If we come to practice patience with ourselves, naturally it will be much easier for us to

practice patience with others. But the two cannot be separated. Sometimes, pressure from

others seems to exert itself on our practice. Even though we may personally resolve the

issue of having patience with ourselves in our own practice, those around us in our

family or workplace, may not practice patience either with themselves, or with us. Or the

boss, and our colleagues at work; or our spouse and children at home. Because they live

in a world of impatience, pressure, deadlines, anxieties; and may themselves not have an

effective way of dealing with it, they may tend to lean on us. Especially if we seem

relatively calm, when all those around us are losing it, to paraphrase Rudyard Kipling,

they may exert more pressure on us to perform, react, or respond; to help them with their

needs, whether perceived or real. Their problems, though they cannot be separated from

ours, may be exacerbated by a lack of patience and practice, and thus unnecessarily

difficult. People can be difficult. And, people can be difficult intentionally, especially if

they feel that we are not doing our part in shared responsibilities that we have as family,

as work colleagues, and even in the Zen community.

Practice of patience, especially with community, is not simple. It is very complex. It

brings us closer to the meaning and purpose of life. What is the point of getting bogged

down in squabbling, or being impatient with others? Or trying to resolve problems that

may not be entirely of our own making. In many cases, those who are part of the problem

are definitely not part of the solution. But we may see ourselves as the Mighty Mouse,

come to save the day. This approach to patience is the flip side of arrogance. We can only

do so much to help others, and it is precious little, actually.

This is where the idea of compassion, perhaps, comes into play with that of patience.

When we see, that even in situations where we are able to exercise great patience, but

others are not; and in spite of our patient effort, the situation does not get any better; and

in some cases, ultimately cannot really be resolved, not by any action that we may take,

or by our influence on others; in this case, which is all-too-often the case, patience

becomes compassion. It’s not that we give up, exactly, but see clearly our own

limitations.

Compassion literally means “suffer with.” We are not committing to being patient until

all parties can come to a resolution of the conflict. We are not practicing that kind of

patience that is dependent upon an outcome, and hopefully fostering or leading to a

positive outcome. But instead, we are practicing a different kind of patience, one which

recognizes that in fact this situation may never be resolved; there may be no resolution of

this particular conflict. It may simply take the passage of time, the death of certain

individuals, whole generations, even, for this current situation to be resolved. No matter

how much patience we can practice or apply, it is not going to make a material

difference, in our lifetime. International disputes and tribal conflicts have this deep

dimension, and often, decades later, it sometimes resolves itself. Former enemies in

world wars are now allies and trading partners, seemingly the best of friends. Where did

the enmity go? Where did it come from, originally? How real was it?

So this is the practice of patience, taking the long-term view of compassion, to sufferwith. We

develop the patience to suffer with others, to suffer with the consequence that, in particular, there

will be no resolution that we can foresee. Not in this lifetime, maybe never. This is patience with

existence, itself. Not to mention the stubbornness of human nature, the abject clinging of the petty

self.

Patience with existence itself, means that we come to understand, fully, Buddha’s

existence of suffering — that existence itself is characterized by suffering, or is of the

nature of suffering. Suffering here, dukkha, means change, attrition; it reminds us that

everything is impermanent, that everything is imperfect, everything is insubstantial.

Patience with the imperfection of existence means coming to terms with reality,

recognizing that perfection is a human concept that has nothing to do with reality. In

reality, perfection and imperfection are mutually defining. There is only a relative

perfection that can be perceived by human beings, against the absolute perfection that

reality represents, regardless of any human opinion of it. This kind of patience, we might

say the transcendental or absolute practice of patience, in the face of the relative

imperfection of existence itself, is Buddhist patience. It engenders the magnanimous

mind.

On the concrete level, just as we mentioned for Generosity, when we look at the world of

nature, wildlife, and so forth, we can see that patience is being exerted at all times by all

things. If rain doesn’t come, if there’s a drought, plants do not complain — they go into a

kind of remission, pulling back, conserving energy and moisture until the rains finally

come. Weeds are good examples of patience designed into structure. In order that the

plant will survive, most weeds have a built-in weakness at the joint between the stems

and the root. If you try to pull them up, unless the soil is loose or damp, the plant will

break at the joint, leaving the root intact, in order to re-grow. A willingness to sacrifice

the limb, part of the plant, to enable survival of the whole, is a kind of natural patience.

If we look at wildlife with this point of view, we can see that most fish and fowl,

predators and prey, life in a world of anxiety that far exceeds what most humans

experience outside the constraints of war. Every day, most sentient beings are faced with

the same stresses of hunger and thirst, and threats to their very life, which can come from

any angle and at any time. Most people would probably die of a heart attack, under

similar conditions. So, we may say that the sentient beings in nature are, perforce,

practicing great patience with the hand they have been dealt.

Perfecting the other Paramitas is limited to what we can actually do, just as what we can

do for others is limited by their practice of patience. If we can find the patience that is

built into existence, so that we become one with it, then we will naturally have a great

deal of patience to go around: for ourselves, for others, and for the Saha world.

Meantime, let us do our best to practice patience and forbearance with each other, and

with the world at large. It is our true home, and will return our kindness a thousandfold.

Let us close this meditation on the perfection of patience by reciting the Metta Sutta, or

Loving Kindness Sutra, frequently chanted in Zen liturgy. It is a testament to practicing

patience in the everyday world. Please join:

This is what may be accomplished by the one who is wise

who seeks the good and has obtained peace

Let one be strenuous upright and sincere without pride easily contented and joyous

let one not be submerged by the things of the world

Let one not take upon oneself the burden of riches

let one’s senses be controlled let one be wise but not puffed up

let one not desire great possessions even for one’s family

Let one do nothing that is mean or that the wise would reprove

May all beings be happy may they be joyous and live in safety

All living beings whether weak or strong in high or middle or low realms of existence

small or great visible or invisible near or far born or to be born

May all beings be happy

Let no one deceive another nor despise any being in any state

let none by anger or hatred wish harm to another

Even as a mother at the risk of her life watches over and protects her only child

so with a boundless mind should one cherish all living things

suffusing love over the entire world above below and all around without limit

so let one cultivate an infinite good will toward the whole world

Standing or walking sitting or lying down during all one’s waking hours

let one cherish the thought that this way of living is the best in the world

Abandoning vain discussion having a clear vision freed from sense appetites

one who realizes the way will never again know rebirth

in the cycle of creation of suffering for ourselves or for others

Loving kindness is a result of practicing patience; patience is a result of practicing loving

kindness. As with all the Paramitas, Precepts, and dimensions of the Eightfold Path, the

perfection of our behavior, as a goal, is not as important as the perfecting of it, as a

process. Please, don’t give up.

Exploring this series of eight talks hopefully will bring about a mindset that opens our

awareness to true patience, and to the dynamic reality of the Paramitas, as functioning

vitally in our daily lives. By combining this study with meditation time on the cushion,

the depth and breadth of the meaning of the Paramitas will become clear, in a way that is

natural to you. Please join us for the next segment in the series, on perfecting Effort, or Virya

Paramita.

© 2010 Zenkai Taiun Michael Joseph Elliston This document is protected by copyright restricting its use, copying, and distribution. No part of this document may be reproduced in any form by any means without prior written authorization of M J Elliston.