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Authors: Pema Chödrön
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committed to a spiritual path, but sadly, we’re equally committed to the eight worldly concerns, to accepting what’s comfortable and rejecting what’s not. This gets us nowhere fast. Without that split personality, however, our commitment to waking up becomes wholehearted. We stop being blinded by the eight worldly concerns and stay present with the underlying discomfort.
When we decide to work with the commitment to not cause harm, we have to investigate how seduced we are by the eight worldly concerns. Are we willing to go to anylengths to free ourselves from the tyranny of pleasure and pain, of what people think, of whether we win or lose, of whether we have a good or bad reputation? It doesn’t matter how far we get with freeing ourselves before we die. What matters is that we make the journey.
After he was diagnosed with cancer, the visionary genius Steve Jobs had this to say about freedom from the eight worldly concerns:
Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything—all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure—these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
The first commitment is a vow to know your triggers, a vow that whatever it takes, you’ll compassionately acknowledge when you’re hooked by the eight worldly concerns—or, indeed, hooked by anything. When you look at what gets to you, it will undoubtedly have something to do with what you want or do not want. Whenever you realize you’re caught, right then, right on the spot, with kindness for yourself, you can acknowledge that you’re hooked. And then you can ask yourself: Which of the eight worldly concerns has me in its grip? Fear of loss? Hope of gain? The pain of being blamed? The desire to be praised? And who’s in control here—me or the eight worldly concerns?
We can’t even acknowledge what’s happening, however, if we’re caught up in our thoughts—in worrying and planning and fantasizing. That’s why we continue to train in meditation, noticing when we’re lost in thought and then coming back to this very moment.
I had an experience a few years ago of being liberated from the tyranny of the eight worldly concerns. At that time I was living at a retreat center along with nine other people, and every afternoon we would get together for a work period. This was a painful time for me because there was almost nothing I could do. I couldn’t haul water because of my bad back. I couldn’t paint decks because of environmental sensitivities. I was essentially useless in that situation, and it was extremely irritating to the work leader. I felt old, feeble, incompetent, and disliked. I felt really miserable.
This led me to some deep contemplation: If I wasn’t the well-respected, accomplished spiritual teacher I’d grown accustomed to being, then who was I? Without the outer confirmation, without the labels, who was I? I talked to Dzigar Kongtrül about my concern, and he asked me, “Isn’t it a big relief?” I had to be honest and say, “Not yet.”
Then a few of us were invited to attend some spiritual teachings in town. As soon as we arrived, I started to be treated as a special person. I had a special high seat, a special glass of water, a special place in the front row.
Seeing the dramatic difference in how I was perceived snapped some deep attachment I had to fame and disgrace, to loss and gain, to hope and fear about my identity. Up the mountain at the retreat center I was nobody. Down the mountain at the teaching I was a special guest, worthy of respect. But these were just shifting, ambiguous labels.Fundamentally, I couldn’t ever be pinpointed,
When we decide to work with the commitment to not cause harm, we have to investigate how seduced we are by the eight worldly concerns. Are we willing to go to anylengths to free ourselves from the tyranny of pleasure and pain, of what people think, of whether we win or lose, of whether we have a good or bad reputation? It doesn’t matter how far we get with freeing ourselves before we die. What matters is that we make the journey.
After he was diagnosed with cancer, the visionary genius Steve Jobs had this to say about freedom from the eight worldly concerns:
Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything—all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure—these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
The first commitment is a vow to know your triggers, a vow that whatever it takes, you’ll compassionately acknowledge when you’re hooked by the eight worldly concerns—or, indeed, hooked by anything. When you look at what gets to you, it will undoubtedly have something to do with what you want or do not want. Whenever you realize you’re caught, right then, right on the spot, with kindness for yourself, you can acknowledge that you’re hooked. And then you can ask yourself: Which of the eight worldly concerns has me in its grip? Fear of loss? Hope of gain? The pain of being blamed? The desire to be praised? And who’s in control here—me or the eight worldly concerns?
We can’t even acknowledge what’s happening, however, if we’re caught up in our thoughts—in worrying and planning and fantasizing. That’s why we continue to train in meditation, noticing when we’re lost in thought and then coming back to this very moment.
I had an experience a few years ago of being liberated from the tyranny of the eight worldly concerns. At that time I was living at a retreat center along with nine other people, and every afternoon we would get together for a work period. This was a painful time for me because there was almost nothing I could do. I couldn’t haul water because of my bad back. I couldn’t paint decks because of environmental sensitivities. I was essentially useless in that situation, and it was extremely irritating to the work leader. I felt old, feeble, incompetent, and disliked. I felt really miserable.
This led me to some deep contemplation: If I wasn’t the well-respected, accomplished spiritual teacher I’d grown accustomed to being, then who was I? Without the outer confirmation, without the labels, who was I? I talked to Dzigar Kongtrül about my concern, and he asked me, “Isn’t it a big relief?” I had to be honest and say, “Not yet.”
Then a few of us were invited to attend some spiritual teachings in town. As soon as we arrived, I started to be treated as a special person. I had a special high seat, a special glass of water, a special place in the front row.
Seeing the dramatic difference in how I was perceived snapped some deep attachment I had to fame and disgrace, to loss and gain, to hope and fear about my identity. Up the mountain at the retreat center I was nobody. Down the mountain at the teaching I was a special guest, worthy of respect. But these were just shifting, ambiguous labels.Fundamentally, I couldn’t ever be pinpointed,
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