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Venerable Ajahn Sucitto -
The Fulfilment of Desire
Buddhism is about getting rid of desire, right? But then,
wouldn’t an inclination to get rid of desire itself be a desire? And
there does seem to be an emphasis in the scriptures on applying effort
to develop moral conduct rather than just following instinctual urges,
to meditating rather than not meditating, and to awakening rather than
remaining confused and reactive. Seeking spiritual transformation is
desire, too, isn’t it?
To unravel this paradox, it helps to understand that the English word
desire is a translation for either of two Pali words: tanha or chanda.
These Pali words refer to different experiences. Tanha means literally
“thirst.” Tanha is a reflex, an instinct—the urge to grab and consume.
Chanda has a broader meaning; I prefer “motivation.” Chanda can refer to
sense-appetites, but also to the interest in Dhamma. It is the
experience of focusing one’s intent in a certain direction. The clear
difference between chanda and tanha is that chanda is not a reflex, not
an instinct and not a compulsion; it is a choice. And the main theme of
Dhamma practice is to make the choices that undercut the power of
instinct and compulsion. That’s what it means to be free, to wake up.
In the process of practice, motivation has to be sustained through a
range of skills, techniques, strategies (even “hanging loose” for a
while to lessen the compulsiveness of willpower) until the compulsions
to gain and hold on are quelled. So the overriding motivation is to let
go of, or to renounce, tanha (thirst). When we’ve cultivated the
supports that make letting go possible, there’s no further need for
chanda (motivation) and the mind can come to rest.
Naturally, this isn’t that easy. And to make matters worse, the words
renounce or renunciation usually sends chills down people’s spines, even
though renunciation, along with kindness and compassion, is one of the
three wholesome inclinations that the Buddha developed for his own
Awakening. You might ask: what’s wrong with quenching my thirsts for
wholesome things—for beautiful music, sunshine, my true love? Maybe for
you, listening to Mozart is a guaranteed high; a sunny day on the beach
is really a lot of fun; and you have a strong and trusting relationship
with your partner—your life feels fulfilled. But what happens if you
lose your hearing, or the sun doesn’t shine, or your partner dies? And
think again: what would it be like if you lost your job and couldn’t pay
the rent or afford to run your car? Is there a guarantee that that won’t
happen?
The truth is we feel good part of the time dependent on giving
inadequate attention to what life entails, or to how fulfilling in the
long run our happy hours and place in the sun really are. The Buddha saw
that, too. The desire that grabs and consumes can never provide us with
enough of the feel-good factor, or for long enough; and when we don’t
know how to switch off the program, we’ll always want more. When the
millionaire Rockefeller was asked, “How much money is enough?” his reply
was, “Just a little more.” So there’s an ongoing restlessness and
insecurity under the surface of all the highs that wealth and fame can
bring.
Even though such self-interested desire may not completely fulfill us or
may lead to suffering, it’s difficult to come out of the trance of tanha.
So the Buddha’s strategy is to appeal to our self-interest in a
different way. What is really going to make us feel good? Where does our
security truly lie? The Buddha poses those questions in terms of peace
of mind. His advice is first to find peace of mind through skillful
action or “bright kamma.” Working from the premise of doing unto others
as we’d like them to do unto us increases cooperation and goodwill and
leads to our own happiness and security. Acting skillfully with wise
reflection and kindness makes our mind feel bright. Inner well-being
comes from being honest, sensitive and from curtailing self-interest. We
live free from regrets and feel larger and more fluent than “little me.”
When we see things in the light of bright kamma, we don’t want to live
addicted to creature comforts. We don’t want the kind of security that
puts us in conflict with our neighbors or leaves us to foot the bill for
security guards, weapons and armies. We begin to question our thirsts.
Once we see these benefits of skillful external action, the Buddha then
advises “internal action” through meditation, or more broadly, the
cultivation of the mind. Mind in the Buddhist sense means more than the
intellect or rationality; it also encompasses what we mean in English by
heart, spirit, sensitivity or awareness. This is the core of what we
feel ourselves to be, so when we cultivate the mind, we get straight to
the point, and the value of acting on our instinctual urges declines. In
fact, it becomes a second-rate substitute for the more direct approach
of gladdening, brightening, easing and releasing the mind through
cultivation, where we find a more reliable source of happiness.
Consider the rapture and bliss of deep meditative states, or the
mind-states of all-pervading benevolence, compassion, appreciative joy
and serenity to which a cultivator may gain access. Above all, a mind
that is agile, alert, empathic and made deep by contemplative work is a
joy in itself and a blessing to others.
So the overall Dhamma prescription is to get free from desire through
actually fulfilling it. This means first getting fulfillment through
living in a balanced and skillful way, then through deepening the mind
with meditation. In terms of meditation, what is known as
‘concentration’ or ‘samadhi’ The latter [this term and the other
elements of the Eightfold Path aren’t used explicitly elsewhere. Would
you like to introduce them throughout? Or else drop it here?] has three
fulfilling aspects: clarity through an undivided and sensitive
attention; happiness through the qualities of uplift and ease; and peace
through the stillness of one-pointedness. Things don’t get better than
this. And from this basis, the mind is able to sense that the pulls and
flares of sense desire are actually disagreeably rough. In fact even the
hankering to hang onto the state of concentration adds a tightness and
pressure to the experience. So there is the arising of insight-wisdom.
With insight, those programs of the mind that equate fulfillment with
flushes of feeling, or security with holding on, can be seen as a
stressful waste of energy.
This insight undermines the “more is better” program and its
transformative effect feeds back into both our daily life and to the
well-being of the world as a whole. That’s a pretty good theme to be
motivated by. And from this basis of confidence in letting go, the mind
can move out of the trance of tanha, and even of the need for further
motivation. chanda. This is because the more that this insightful
abiding is developed, the more we trust the inner weightlessness that it
reveals. In the same way that perfect balance is detectable by the
absence of pressures, constriction and leaning, so the fruition of
insight is just this “unsupported” peace and steadiness. [Great image!]
Further motivation would just upset the balance. In a delightful
paradox, this mind is then secure just because it is not leaning on some
idea, feeling, mood, self-image or strategy. It is fulfilled in the
security that there is nothing else to get and gain. It is simply free
from all bonds.
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