Changing conditions - changing ourselves

At this time of year, in the afterglow of the festive period and - who knows? - the aftermath of too many mince pies, too much TV and general excess, many of us like to take stock of our lives and make resolutions for the coming year. We might want to stop doing certain things - like smoking, eating or drinking too much or even working too hard - or we might want to take up a new hobby or learn a new skill - for instance, the piano or a foreign language. Our resolutions might even mean changing behaviour or attitudes: resolving to get on better with a difficult colleague or to be less critical of people in general.

All of this indicates that, in some way, we are not completely satisfied with our life: at the very least, we can see that there is room for improving it still further. Dissatisfaction, according to Buddhism, is a fundamental aspect of human life; it can take many forms, ranging from the pain of toothache, through nameless feelings of fear and anxiety, all the way down to a feeling that something just isn't right: an indefinable sense of lack. It is experiences of unsatisfactoriness like this that drive us to change our conditions: if I could get a new job, a computer upgrade, go on the ideal holiday or start a new relationship, then I would be completely and permanently happy. We may not rationally think like that, but this is at some deep emotional level what we believe, and this emotional belief is what drives the advertising industry - and even consumerism itself! But experience always in the end shows us that the happiness we get from things "out there" in the world, far from being perfect and lasting, is limited and only lasts for a while: things break, the first thrill of a new relationship fades, the dream job turns out in the end not to be the answer to all our prayers.

I'm not trying to say that making resolutions to change our conditions is a waste of time. Far from it. In many situations it can be a definite change for the better to leave an unsatisfying job - although, in these uncertain times, this might be a risky move - or to acquire a new skill. But the point I want to make is that, according to Buddhism, the conditions which make us happy or unhappy are as much internal as external - in fact, even more so!

The Buddha's teachings say that what causes us to suffer are our own inner attitudes: our tendency to seek happiness in external conditions that can't ultimately provide it and to push away anything in our experience - very often other people - that appears to be getting in the way of our pursuit of happiness. Buddhism tells us that, if we really want to stop suffering, we have to stop doing this. It also suggests ways in which we can do so. For example, instead of always trying to find happiness in buying things and seeking out endless variety to stave off boredom, we can choose to be generous, as giving has the effect of opening us up to others. Or we can try to develop contentment: the ability to be happy with our lot, to be fully engaged in life as it presents itself from moment to moment. Developing an appreciation of nature can open us up to a greater experience of beauty and fulfilment. On the other hand, instead of reacting with anger and ill-will to difficult situations and people, we can try to cultivate good will and empathy; one way of doing this is to realise that the difficulty we have with someone is only a small part of a very broad picture and that the person we find so difficult has a life that in all the most important ways is very much like our own - they also want to be happy and have joys, hopes and fears, just as we do. This ability to identify imaginatively with the lives of others is the cornerstone of empathy - and empathy opens the door to understanding, love and compassion.

None of this is easy. Changing the habitual patterns of the mind is a difficult and slow process. Resolutions often break down because we expect too much of ourselves. But you can look for success in the form of small breakthroughs: instead of cold-shouldering the difficult person, you can try out a smile; instead of indulging in retail therapy when you feel down, you might once in a while consider spending time in nature or just hanging out with a friend. Instead of automatically switching on the radio when you get up in the morning, it might be worth just walking out into the garden for a few minutes. Who knows? - you might even hear the birdsong.

Empathy as the middle way

If you're a parent of small children you've probably had the experience whereby your darling cuddly infant stops being the cutest thing you (or anyone else) has ever seen and more or less instantly becomes a red-faced squalling thing that you just feel like shouting at - and, unless you're superhuman, do, at least occasionally, shout at.

I've become interested in this strange transition and what a Buddhist take on it might be. What seems to me to be happening with both extremes is an assertion of the self of the parent over the self of the child concerned. Let me explain.

When we go all gooey over our children and sneak furtive glances around us to make sure that other people are doing the same, the chances are that, mixed in with our genuine love for and pride in them, there is a degree of projection going on: it's as if the child's function is to be cute so that we can bask in reflected glory. In other words, the child becomes an extension of us (which, some might argue, is the point of having kids), a means of presenting ourselves to the world, of perpetuating our own self. I've heard it said that evolution has engineered babies and small children to be cute in order to enhance their chances of survival, and that may be so, but there are attendant disadvantages. We forget that the child is a person in its own right rather than an adjunct to our personality. What goes on is a failure of empathy: a failure of our faculty to feel and identify with the experience of another. Empathy arises when we transcend our limited self to reach out imaginatively to other selves. The defensive walls that we erect out of ignorance are breached - at least to some extent, at least for a time.

The same thing applies in the contrasting situation: when, before our eyes, the cute little thing turns into a screaming monster. Again, what is happening is a failure of empathy: the child becomes an object that is preventing us from having what we want, possibly peace and quiet or to be looked up to and admired as a model parent. The walls of the self go up: frustrated craving leads to an eruption of anger and ill-will, which, if we are lucky might translate into nothing more than a few obscenities stifled by a pillow or the kicking of a few inanimate objects; if we are less lucky - or in less robust mental states - it might manifest in angry words at high volume - or, heaven forbid, worse. Afterwards, of course, when the rage has been spent there will probably follow a realisation of the awfulness of shouting at one's own children and moments of genuine empathy when we see the effects of our actions:  a frightened and unhappy child whose needs at that moment are most decidedly not being met.

True empathy is probably the preserve of a Buddha - a being who has definitively and permanently seen through the illusion of the fixed, separate self, whose natural state is to identify completely and without reservation with other, non-enlightened beings enslaved under the tyranny of fixed self-view. The natural response of such a being to the happiness of another - perhaps to the carefree play of the child - is one of sympathetic joy: the happiness that arises when others are happy - but without a trace of the self-interest that parents experience in relation to their children, albeit in a subtle and not immediately apparent form. By the same token, when the enlightened mind encounters suffering, it responds with compassion, in the full and unlimited awareness of the suffering of another being which, when all is said and done, just wants to be happy. It's as if the Buddha's boundless self can comprehend all the other selves that he meets, surrounding them with love and compassion.

So, in a way, you can look on empathy as a middle way, transcending craving - for perpetuation of one's own self or recognition from others - and aversion, the violent rejection of an object that is stopping us having what we want. If we can develop empathy, we will respond to the other person in the dynamic - in this case, to the child - with awareness and understanding of their desires, fears and motivation - and avoid, at least sometimes, the worst excesses that come with fixed self-view.

Social media and Dharma practice

Social media are a great means of keeping in touch with all sorts of people, but I've been reflecting how their use can from a Dharmic point of view be either wholesome or unwholesome, depending, as always in Buddhism, on the state of mind in which you post: the principle of karma states that actions performed on the basis of positive mental states lead to happiness, whereas those performed on the basis of craving, aversion and spiritual ignorance will lead to states of suffering. On the one hand, there can be a genuine desire to connect with others and enter into empathic communication with them; on the other, posting can be associated with an urge to reinforce one's own ego identity by saying "look at me!". Which of us hasn't at some time kept returning to previous Facebook posts to see how many people have responded and then compared the number of comments or "likes" we have received with those of other posts? Comparisons, as various authors throughout the centuries have pointed out, are odious, and this holds good in Buddhism as well. Any kind of comparison is a form of conceit: to say that you are better or worse than, or the same as, someone else reinforces that sense of separate selfhood which, according to Buddhism, is at the root of all of our suffering. But if we can approach social media, as anything else, with an attitude of interest, compassion and empathy, then our interactions with the worlds of Facebook and Twitter will be a boon to ourselves and other people.