The Art of Happiness

by The Dalai Lama

  “In the same way, a situation that you initially perceive as 100 percent negative may have some positive aspects to it. But I think that even if you have discovered a positive angle to a bad situation, that alone is often not enough. You still need to reinforce that idea. So you may need to remind yourself of that positive angle many times, until gradually your feeling changes. Generally speaking, once you’re already in a difficult situation, it isn’t possible to change your attitude simply by adopting a particular thought once or twice. Rather it’s through a process of learning, training, and getting used to new viewpoints that enables you to deal with the difficulty.”

  The Dalai Lama reflected for a moment, and, adhering to his usual pragmatic stance, he added, “If, however, in spite of your efforts, you do not find any such positive angles or perspectives to a person’s act, then for the time being the best course of action may be to simply try to forget about it.”

  Inspired by the Dalai Lama’s words, later that evening I tried to discover some “positive angles” to the administrator, ways in which he was not “100 percent bad.” It wasn’t hard. I knew him to be a loving father, for instance, trying to raise his children the best he could. And I had to admit that my run-ins with him had ultimately benefited me—they had been instrumental in my decision to quit working at that facility, which ultimately led to more satisfying work. While these reflections didn’t immediately result in an overwhelming liking for this man, they unquestionably took the bite out of my feelings of hatred with surprisingly little effort. Soon, the Dalai Lama would offer an even more profound lesson: how to completely transform one’s attitude toward one’s enemies and learn to cherish them.

  A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON THE ENEMY

  The Dalai Lama’s primary method of transforming our attitude about our enemies involves a systematic and rational analysis of our customary response to those who harm us. He explained:

  “Let’s begin by examining our characteristic attitude toward our rivals. Generally speaking, of course, we do not wish good things for our enemies. But even if your enemy is made unhappy through your actions, what is there for you to be so joyful about? If you think about it carefully, how can there be anything more wretched than that? Carrying around the burden of such feelings of hostility and ill will. And do you really want to be that mean?

  “If we take revenge upon one’s enemy, then it creates a kind of vicious cycle. If you retaliate, the other person is not going to accept that—he or she is going to retaliate against you, and then you will do the same, so it will go on. And especially when this happens at the community level, it can go on from generation to generation. The result is that both sides suffer. Then, the whole purpose of life becomes spoiled. You can see this in the refugee camps, where hatred is cultivated towards another group. This happens from childhood on. It is very sad. So, anger or hatred is like a fisherman’s hook. It’s very important for us to ensure that we are not caught by this hook.

  “Now, some people consider that strong hatred is good for national interest. I think this is very negative. It is very short-sighted. Counteracting this way of thinking is the basis of the spirit of nonviolence and understanding.”

  Having challenged our characteristic attitude toward one’s enemy, the Dalai Lama went on to offer an alternative way of viewing one’s enemy, a new perspective that could have a revolutionary impact on one’s life. He explained:

  “In Buddhism in general, a lot of attention is paid to our attitudes towards our rivals or enemies. This is because hatred can be the greatest stumbling block to the development of compassion and happiness. If you can learn to develop patience and tolerance towards your enemies, then everything else becomes much easier—your compassion towards all others begins to flow naturally.

  “So, for a spiritual practitioner, one’s enemies play a crucial role. As I see it, compassion is the essence of a spiritual life. And in order for you to become fully successful in practicing love and compassion, the practice of patience and tolerance is indispensable. There is no fortitude similar to patience, just as there is no affliction worse than hatred. Therefore, one must exert one’s best efforts not to harbor hatred towards the enemy, but rather use the encounter as an opportunity to enhance one’s practice of patience and tolerance.

  “In fact, the enemy is the necessary condition for practicing patience. Without an enemy’s action, there is no possibility for patience or tolerance to arise. Our friends do not ordinarily test us and provide the opportunity to cultivate patience; only our enemies do this. So, from this standpoint we can consider our enemy as a great teacher, and revere them for giving us this precious opportunity to practice patience.

  “Now there are many, many people in the world, but relatively few with whom we interact, and even fewer who cause us problems. So when you come across such a chance for practicing patience and tolerance, you should treat it with gratitude. It is rare. Just as having unexpectedly found a treasure in your own house, you should be happy and grateful towards your enemy for providing that precious opportunity. Because if you are ever to be successful in your practice of patience and tolerance, which are critical factors in counteracting negative emotions, it is due to the combination of your own efforts and also the opportunity provided by your enemy.

  “Of course, one might still feel, ‘Why should I venerate my enemy, or acknowledge his or her contribution, because the enemy had no intention to give me this precious opportunity for practicing patience, no intention of helping me? And not only do they have no wish or intention to help me, but they have a deliberate malicious intention to harm me! Therefore, it’s appropriate to hate them—they are definitely not worthy of respect.’ Actually, it is in fact the presence of this hateful state of mind in the enemy, the intention to hurt us, that makes the enemy’s action unique. Otherwise, if it is just the actual act of hurting us, then we would hate doctors and consider them as enemies because sometimes they adopt methods that can be painful, such as surgery. But still, we do not consider these acts as harmful or the acts of an enemy because the intention on the part of the doctor was to help us. So, therefore, it is exactly this willful intention to harm us that makes the enemy unique and gives us this precious opportunity to practice patience.”

  The Dalai Lama’s suggestion to venerate one’s enemies because of the opportunities for growth they provide might be a bit hard to swallow at first. But the situation is analogous to a person seeking to tone and strengthen one’s body through weight training. Of course, the activity of lifting is uncomfortable at first—the weights are heavy. One strains, sweats, struggles. Yet it is the very act of struggling against the resistance that ultimately results in our strength. One appreciates good weight equipment not for any immediate pleasure it provides, but for the ultimate benefit one receives.

  Perhaps even the Dalai Lama’s claims about the “rarity” and “preciousness” of The Enemy are more than just fanciful ratio nalizations. As I listen to my patients describe their difficulties with others, this becomes quite clear—when it comes down to it, most people don’t have legions of enemies and antagonists they’re struggling with, at least on a personal level. Usually the conflict is just confined to a few people. A boss perhaps, or a coworker, an ex-spouse, a sibling. From that standpoint, The Enemy is truly “rare”—our supply is limited. And it’s the struggle, the process of resolving the conflict with The Enemy—through learning, examining, finding alternative ways of dealing with them—that ultimately results in true growth, insight, and a successful psychotherapeutic outcome.

  Imagine what it would be like if we went through life never encountering an enemy or any other obstacles for that matter, if from the cradle to the grave everyone we met pampered us, held us, hand-fed us (soft bland food, easy to digest), amused us with funny faces and the occasional “goo-goo” noise. If from infancy we were carried around in a basket (later on, perhaps on a litter), never encountering any challenge, never tested—in short, if everyone continued to treat us like a
baby. That might sound good at first. For the first few months of life it might be appropriate. But if it persisted it could only result in one becoming a sort of gelatinous mass, a monstrosity really—with the mental and emotional development of veal. It’s the very struggle of life that makes us who we are. And it is our enemies that test us, provide us with the resistance necessary for growth.

  IS THIS ATTITUDE PRACTICAL?

  The practice of approaching our problems rationally and learning to view our troubles or our enemies from alternative perspectives certainly seemed like a worthwhile pursuit, but I wondered to what degree this could really bring about a fundamental transformation of attitude. I remembered once reading in an interview that one of the Dalai Lama’s daily spiritual practices was the recitation of a prayer, The Eight Verses on the Training of the Mind, written in the eleventh century by the Tibetan saint, Langri Thangpa. It reads, in part:Whenever I associate with someone, may I think myself the lowest among all and hold the other supreme in the depth of my heart! ...

  When Isee beings of wicked nature, pressed by violent sin and affliction, may I hold these rare ones dear as if I had found a precious treasure! ...

  When others, out of envy, treat me badly with abuse, slander and the like, may I suffer the defeat and offer the victory to others! ...

  When the one, whom I have benefited with great hope, burts me very badly, may I behold him as my supreme Guru!

  In short may I, directly and indirectly, offer benefit and happiness to all beings; may I secretly take upon myself the barm and suffering of all beings! ...

  After I read about this, I asked the Dalai Lama, “I know that you’ve contemplated this prayer a great deal, but do you really think it is applicable these days? I mean, it was written by a monk living in a monastery—a setting where the worst thing that might happen is someone gossiping about you or telling lies about you or perhaps the occasional punch or slap. In that case it might be easy to ‘offer the victory’ to them—but in today’s society the ’hurt’ or bad treatment one receives from others might include rape, torture, murder, etc. From that standpoint, the attitude in the prayer really doesn’t seem applicable.” I felt a bit smug, having made an observation that I thought was rather apt, the ol’ bon mot.

  The Dalai Lama was silent for several moments, his brow furrowed deep in thought, then said, “There may be something in what you are saying.” He then went on to discuss instances where there may need to be some modification to that attitude, where one may need to take strong countermeasures to other’s aggression to prevent harm to oneself or others.

  Later that evening I thought over our conversation. Two points vividly emerged. First, I was struck by his extraordinary readiness to take a fresh look at his own beliefs and practices—in this case, demonstrating a willingness to reevaluate a cherished prayer that had no doubt fused with his very being through years of repetition. The second point was less inspiring. I was overcome with a sense of my own arrogance! It occurred to me that I had suggested to him that the prayer might not be appropriate because it wasn’t in keeping with the harsh realities of today’s world. But it wasn’t until later that I reflected on who I had been speaking to—a man who had lost an entire country as a result of one of the most brutal invasions in history. A man who has lived in exile for almost four decades while an entire nation placed their hopes and dreams of freedom on him. A man with a deep sense of personal responsibility, who has listened with compassion to a continuous stream of refugees pouring out their stories of the murder, rape, torture, and degradation of the Tibetan people by the Chinese. More than once I’ve seen the look of infinite caring and sadness on his face as he listened to these accounts, often toldby people who crossed the Himalayas on foot (a two-year journey) just to catch a glimpse of him.

  And these stories aren’t of physical violence only. Often they involved the attempt to destroy the spirit of the Tibetan people. A Tibetan refugee once told me about the Chinese “school” he was required to attend as a youngster growing up in Tibet. The mornings were devoted to indoctrination and study of Chairman Mao’s “little red book.” The afternoons were devoted to reporting on various homework assignments. The “homework” was generally devised to eradicate the deeply ingrained spirit of Buddhism among the Tibetan people. For example, knowing about the Buddhist prohibition against killing and the belief that every living creature is equally a precious “sentient being,” one schoolteacher assigned his students the task of killing something and bringing it to school the following day. The students were graded. Each dead animal was given a certain point value—a fly was worth one point, a worm—two, a mouse—five, a cat—ten, and so on. (When I recounted this story to a friend recently, he shook his head with a look of disgust, and mused, “I wonder how many points the student would get for killin’ the damn teacher?”)

  Through his spiritual practices, such as recitation of The Eight Verses on the Training of the Mind, the Dalai Lama has been able to come to terms with the reality of this situation yet continue to campaign actively for freedom and human rights in Tibet for forty years. At the same time he has maintained an attitude of humility and compassion toward the Chinese, which has inspired millions worldwide. And here was I, suggesting that this prayer might not be relevant to the “realities” of today’s world. I still flush with embarrassment whenever I think of that conversation.

  DISCOVERING NEW PERSPECTIVES

  In trying to apply the Dalai Lama’s method of shifting perspective on “the enemy,” I happened to stumble upon another technique one afternoon. During the course of preparing for this book I attended some teachings by the Dalai Lama on the East Coast. On my return home I took a nonstop flight back to Phoenix. As usual, I had booked an aisle seat. Despite having just attended spiritual teachings, I was in a rather cranky mood as I boarded the packed plane. Then I discovered I had been mistakenly assigned a center seat—sandwiched between a man of generous proportions who had the annoying habit of draping his thick forearm over my side of the armrest and a middle-aged woman whom I took an immediate dislike to because, I decided, she had usurped my aisle seat. There was something about this woman that really bothered me—her voice a bit too shrill, her manner a bit too imperial, I’m not sure. Right after takeoff she began talking continuously to the man sitting directly in front of her. The man turned out to be her husband, and I “gallantly” offered to exchange seats with him. But they wouldn’t have it—they both wanted aisle seats. I grew more annoyed. The prospect of five solid hours seated next to this woman seemed unbearable.

  Realizing that I was reacting so strongly to a woman whom I didn’t even know, I decided that it must be “transference”—she must subconsciously remind me of someone from my childhood—the ol’ unresolved-feelings-of-hate-toward-my-mother or something. I racked my brain but couldn’t come up with a likely candidate-she just didn’t remind me of anyone from my past.

  It then occurred to me that this was the perfect opportunity to practice developing patience. So, I started in on the technique of visualizing my enemy in my aisle seat as a cherished benefactor, placed next to me to teach me patience and tolerance. I figured this should be a snap—after all, as “enemies” go you couldn’t get any milder than this—I had just met this woman, and she hadn’t actually done anything to harm me. After about twenty minutes, I gave it up—she still bugged me! I resigned myself to remaining irritable for the rest of the flight. Sulking, I glared at one of her hands that was furtively encroaching on my armrest. I hated everything about this woman. I was staring absently at her thumbnail when it occurred to me: Do I hate that thumbnail? Not really. It was just an ordinary thumbnail. Unremarkable. Next, I glanced at her eye and asked myself: Do I really hate that eye? Yes, I did. (Of course, for no good reason—which is the purest form of hate). I focused in closer. Do I hate that pupil? No. Do I hate that cornea, that iris, or that sclera? No. So, do I really hate that eye? I had to admit that I didn’t. I felt that I was on to something. I moved on t
o a knuckle, a finger, a jaw, an elbow. With some surprise I realized that there were parts of this woman that I didn’t hate. Focusing on details, on particulars, instead of overgeneralizations, allowed a subtle internal change, a softening. This shift of perspective tore an opening in my prejudice, just wide enough to look at her as simply another human being. As I was feeling this, she suddenly turned to me and started a conversation. I don’t remember what we talked about—it was small talk mostly—but by the end of the flight my anger and annoyance had been diffused. Granted, she wasn’t my New Best Friend but also she was no longer The Evil Usurper of My Aisle Seat—just another human being, like me, moving through life as best she could.