The Core of the Practice: Three Main Principles

Falun Dafa is rooted in three fundamental principles, which are considered the highest manifestation of the nature of the universe:

1. Truthfulness (Zhen): Sincerity, honesty, and the rejection of lies and pretense.

2. Compassion (Shan): Benevolence, altruism, the desire to help others, and kindness.

3. Forbearance (Ren): Endurance, the ability to forgive, maintaining a calm attitude toward hardships, and the absence of anger.

The practitioner’s goal is to follow these principles in daily life: within the family, at work, and in society. It is believed that working on one’s character (xinxing) is more important than the simple performance of physical movements.

What Does the Practice Consist Of?

Falun Dafa includes two primary components:

• Self-Work: Reading and studying the teachings (the main book being Zhuan Falun), which explain how to let go of harmful habits, selfishness, and attachments.

• Energy Exercises: The system consists of five sets of exercises, including a sitting meditation. The movements are performed smoothly and slowly, helping to relieve stress, cleanse the body, and restore internal balance.

Historical Background

The system was introduced to the public in 1992 in China by Mr. Li Hongzhi.

Due to its effectiveness in improving health and its ease of learning, the practice became incredibly popular. By the late 1990s, tens of millions of people were practicing it in over 100 countries worldwide.

What are the Benefits of Falun Dafa?

People take up the practice for various reasons, but most often report the following results:

• Improved Health: Enhanced immunity and relief from insomnia and chronic fatigue.

• Psychological Comfort: Reduced anxiety and the attainment of inner peace and harmony.

• Better Relationships: Conflicts in the family and workplace are smoothed out as the individual begins to show more patience and kindness toward others.

Key Features of the Practice

Falun Dafa differs from many other systems in several ways:

1. Free of Charge: All materials (books, video lessons) are available online for free. Group instruction is also provided by volunteers at no cost.

2. Accessibility: The practice does not require moving to a monastery or changing one’s lifestyle. A person can practice at any convenient time while remaining a full member of society.

3. Apolitical: Falun Dafa is not a religious organization or a political movement. It is a personal path of self-improvement for each individual.

Conclusion

Falun Dafa is more than just gymnastics. It is a holistic approach to life that invites individuals to return to traditional moral values and find peace amidst the hustle and bustle of the modern world. For many, it becomes a “manual” on how to become the best version of themselves.

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Several decades ago, a major controversy erupted over A.K. Ramanujan’s essay “The Three Hundred Ramayanas.” Right-wing critics accused left-leaning scholars of reducing Rama from a historical person to a merely literary character.

Curiously, no similar debate surrounds the idea of “three hundred Buddhas,” despite the many diverse narratives about the Buddha’s life. The Buddha is widely accepted as a historical figure, even though most scholars of Buddhism acknowledge that the version of his life familiar today was largely assembled by 19th-century European scholars, who worked from a range of texts and applied selective, sometimes arbitrary, criteria.

When did the Buddha live?

Accounts of the Buddha’s life were first written down some 500 to 700 years after the time he may—or may not—have lived. Estimates of his birth date are calculated indirectly, based on how many years are thought to have passed between his death and the coronation of Emperor Ashoka.

There is no agreement on this timeline. Some traditions place the Buddha about 200 years before Ashoka, others about 300 years earlier. When we widen the scope to include chronicles from East Asia, Southeast Asia, and South Asia, we encounter roughly forty different ways of calculating the Buddha’s dates, none of which has gained universal acceptance.

Sources of the Buddha’s story

The Buddha’s life story draws on Sanskrit texts such as the Buddhacarita, the Lalitavistara, the philosophical works of Nagarjuna, and numerous Jataka tales. None of these texts is contemporary with the Buddha. Moreover, they often assume the existence of other Buddhas who lived before him.

In this sense, Buddhist narratives openly acknowledge a lineage of Buddhas, much like Jainism’s tradition of the Tirthankaras. In Jain thought, each tirthankara’s life follows a fixed sequence of five key events: conception, birth, renunciation, awakening, and death.

Similarly, Buddhist texts—depending on the tradition—describe anywhere from seven to twenty-eight Buddhas. Their lives repeatedly follow the same pattern: conception, birth, renunciation, awakening, and finally death (parinirvana).

Conception, birth, and family life

Details of the Buddha’s conception vary widely. In some accounts, it is miraculous: his mother dreams of a celestial elephant entering her womb. When this narrative was translated into Chinese, Confucian values favored an interpretation that emphasized moral purity, reinforcing the elephant imagery.

Other traditions describe the Buddha remaining untouched by his mother’s “impure” body, meditating within a jeweled casket in her womb and preaching to the gods. He is said to have emerged from his mother’s right side while she stood holding a tree branch in a grove.

Today, it is commonly accepted that the Buddha was born in Lumbini. Yet earlier texts do not mention this location at all. Lumbini gained prominence only during Ashoka’s reign; it became important because Ashoka identified it as such, not because earlier sources emphasized it.

The Buddha’s marital status is equally uncertain. Some texts describe him as having one wife, others two, three, or several. In certain stories, his son is born on the night he leaves the palace; in others, on the day he attains enlightenment.

These inconsistencies even gave rise to accusations of infidelity in some traditions, particularly in stories involving Yashodharā, who is tested or judged by the Buddha’s other wives—some sympathetic, others hostile. Accounts of the Buddha’s death, or parinirvāṇa, also differ across traditions.

A modern construction?

Narratives of the Buddha’s life vary significantly in Japanese, Chinese, and Korean traditions. British Orientalist scholars, treating the Pali Canon as the most authentic source, removed many supernatural elements. Even the term “enlightenment” was carefully framed to resonate with Europe’s own Age of Enlightenment, especially in stories like the Buddha’s confrontation with Mara.

Today, scholars know that the oldest surviving Buddhist manuscripts are written in Gandharan Prakrit and date from around the 1st century BCE to the 1st century CE. These texts do not explicitly mention the Four Noble Truths, though they contain many closely related ideas.

According to Theravada tradition, the Pali Canon was first written down in Sri Lanka around the 1st century BCE, during the reign of King Vattagamani Abhaya. However, the version known today took shape over several centuries, particularly through later commentaries such as those by Buddhaghosa in the 5th century CE.

History, myth, and truth

Ultimately, we should remember that history does not automatically convey truth, and mythology does not automatically convey falsehood. They are simply two different ways of engaging with the past—one grounded in evidence, the other in faith. Neither, on its own, tells the whole story.

The post Was the Buddha a historical figure or a mythic one? appeared first on Table for Change.

In contrast, Japanese culture glorifies ritualistic forms of self-inflicted death, such as seppuku or harakiri. Popularized in samurai lore, this involved a warrior disemboweling himself with a sword, often followed by a companion delivering a decapitating blow. Seen as a form of martyrdom, this practice was distinct from suicide, which many cultures, including Japan, considered sinful. The glorification of battlefield deaths similarly relied on rebranding, portraying them as acts of bravery or loyalty rather than despair.

Savarkar sought to adapt similar ideas to Indian traditions. Since Sanskrit lacked a term for martyrdom, he replaced the Muslim term shaheed (meaning “witness to Islamic truth”) with hutat-atma, a word he coined to signify self-sacrifice. Today, the term vira-gati—”the path of the brave”—is often used by soldiers instead.

Such self-sacrifice, whether for spirituality, religion, patriotism, or pride, was framed as atma-arpan rather than atma-hatya. Critics may view this distinction as a rhetorical convenience rather than a genuine difference.

This concept resonates in various Indian traditions. Across Karnataka, ancient stone slabs commemorate Jain monks and kings who starved themselves to death through sallekhana, a practice intended to burn away karmic debts and attain liberation. Jain lore recounts how figures like Chandragupta Maurya and his mentor Chanakya embraced sallekhana over 2,300 years ago.

Hindu epics also reflect similar themes. In the Ramayana, Rama walks into a river, disappearing forever. In the Mahabharata, the Pandavas climb mountains to their deaths, and their relatives willingly perish in a forest fire. These acts were seen not as suicides but as conscious renunciation of the body. Similarly, yogis were believed to use spiritual techniques to voluntarily release their final breath, an idea echoed in Vedantic and Buddhist texts where defeated scholars were expected to relinquish their lives through fire, drowning, or other means.

Historically, such acts have been romanticized or explained as spiritual sacrifices. The 8th-century philosopher Kumaril Bhat burned himself alive, allegedly out of guilt for doubting the Vedas. Some Buddhists suggest his act was motivated by shame imposed by Buddhist teachers. Similarly, the Bhakti saint Dyaneshwara in 13th-century Maharashtra ended his life in a cave at the age of 21, a decision scholars attribute to trauma inflicted by Brahmin adversaries. These events are often labeled as ritual suicides, though they may also reflect psychological distress.

During colonial times, Hindus struggled to rationalize such practices to their European rulers, who viewed suicide as sinful, a perspective rooted in Christian and Islamic beliefs. Even today, the societal reaction to self-inflicted death varies. Acts driven by depression are often condemned, while those carried out for political or religious motives are sometimes valorized. This dichotomy highlights the complexity of cultural narratives surrounding voluntary death and sacrifice.

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1. Hollywood Movies Inspired or Dealing with Hinduism

Several films have explored Hinduism either as a central theme or through subtle references, often focusing on spiritual principles like reincarnation, karma, or the nature of the self. Here are a few notable examples:

a. “The Matrix” Trilogy (1999-2003)

Though not explicitly about Hinduism, “The Matrix” trilogy is heavily inspired by Eastern philosophy, including Vedantic teachings, concepts of Maya (illusion), and the search for ultimate reality (Brahman). The character Neo’s journey can be seen as an allegory for self-realization and liberation (moksha), a core concept in Hinduism.

b. “Avatar” (2009)

James Cameron’s “Avatar” borrows heavily from Hindu philosophy. The title “Avatar” itself is a Sanskrit word meaning “incarnation,” which refers to the descent of a deity to Earth. The movie’s exploration of interconnectedness between all living beings on Pandora and its environment parallels the Hindu idea of “Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam” – the world is one family. The themes of reincarnation, balance in nature, and spiritual transcendence echo Hindu values.

c. “Eat Pray Love” (2010)

In this film, based on Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir, the protagonist travels to India in search of spiritual enlightenment, and a significant portion of the film is spent in an ashram (a spiritual retreat in Hindu tradition). It touches upon the practices of meditation, devotion, and self-reflection that are integral to Hindu spirituality.

d. “Life of Pi” (2012)

Adapted from Yann Martel’s novel, this movie beautifully blends spiritual traditions, with Hinduism being a central component of Pi’s worldview. The protagonist practices multiple religions, including Hinduism, and the film subtly integrates themes of faith, the divine, and the role of spirituality in overcoming adversity. The imagery of Hindu deities and stories also enriches the narrative.

e. “A Little Princess” (1995)

This family movie, though primarily based on a Western storyline, contains an important subplot about Indian culture and Hinduism. The protagonist recounts stories from the Hindu epic “Ramayana,” particularly the tale of Sita’s resilience and strength, as a parallel to her own situation.

2. Hindu Teachings in Hollywood

Hindu teachings in Hollywood tend to focus on a few key philosophical ideas:

• Reincarnation: One of the most recognizable Hindu concepts portrayed in Hollywood films. Reincarnation refers to the belief that the soul is eternal and is reborn in different bodies across lifetimes. Movies like “Cloud Atlas” (2012) and “The Fountain” (2006) explore this idea in different ways.
• Karma: The law of moral cause and effect, central to Hindu ethics, is frequently alluded to in Hollywood. The idea that one’s actions have consequences that extend beyond immediate lifetimes resonates in films like “My Name is Khan” (2010), where acts of kindness and cruelty are shown to shape the protagonist’s journey.
• Maya: The Hindu concept of Maya, which refers to the illusory nature of the world, has intrigued Hollywood. The concept is central to films like “The Matrix,” where reality as perceived by the senses is revealed to be an illusion, and true understanding lies beyond.
• Self-Realization and Moksha: The ultimate goal in Hinduism, moksha, is the liberation from the cycle of birth and death (samsara). Movies like “Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring” (2003) (though a Korean film, it is highly influenced by Eastern spiritual ideas) explore the path of self-realization, drawing from Hindu and Buddhist teachings about detachment and the quest for spiritual liberation.

3. Lesser-Known Films with Hindu Themes

While the big Hollywood productions receive the most attention, several lesser-known films also explore Hindu ideas, offering deeper insights into spirituality:

a. “Samsara” (2001)

This film centers on a Buddhist monk’s spiritual journey but touches upon several Hindu concepts like renunciation, the allure of material desires, and the importance of dharma (righteousness). The title, “Samsara,” refers to the Hindu and Buddhist belief in the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

b. “Holy Smoke!” (1999)

Directed by Jane Campion, this film follows a young woman who joins an ashram in India and embraces Eastern spirituality, only to be brought back home by her family. It reflects on the East-West divide in understanding spiritual journeys and the Western fascination with Hindu spiritual practices.

c. “The Darjeeling Limited” (2007)

While Wes Anderson’s film primarily deals with three brothers traveling across India, it subtly incorporates Hindu spiritual symbols and themes. The brothers’ journey toward reconciliation and self-discovery parallels Hindu concepts of pilgrimage (yatra) and personal transformation.

4. Relevant Facts and Misrepresentations

Despite these intriguing depictions, Hinduism has often been oversimplified or misrepresented in Hollywood. Common misconceptions and stereotypes, such as equating Hinduism solely with yoga or portraying its practices as “exotic,” tend to reduce the depth of this complex tradition.

For instance, many Hollywood films equate Hinduism with mysticism and magic without addressing the religion’s philosophical or ethical teachings. In “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” (1984), the portrayal of Hindu rituals was criticized for its inaccuracies and sensationalism, conflating unrelated traditions with dangerous cult activities.

Hollywood’s tendency to cherry-pick spiritual ideas from Hinduism while ignoring the broader context has also led to criticisms of cultural appropriation. Yoga, for example, is often shown as purely physical exercise, stripped of its spiritual roots, which include disciplines of the mind and spirit.

5. Current Status and Emerging Trends

In recent years, there has been a shift in how Hinduism is represented in Western media. With the rise of globalization and increased access to information, more nuanced depictions are emerging. Filmmakers are beginning to approach Hindu themes with greater respect and authenticity, especially as audiences demand more accurate portrayals of non-Western cultures.

Actors and filmmakers of Indian descent in Hollywood, such as Mindy Kaling and Priyanka Chopra, have contributed to this change by bringing their own cultural and religious experiences into their work. Moreover, the global appeal of Indian cinema (Bollywood), with its increasing influence on Hollywood, has helped to present a more diverse and genuine portrayal of Hinduism.

Furthermore, there has been a rise in documentaries that explore spiritual practices and Hinduism, such as “Awake: The Life of Yogananda” (2014), which chronicles the life of Paramahansa Yogananda, who introduced millions of Westerners to yoga and meditation.

6. The Influence of Hinduism on Hollywood Culture

Beyond film narratives, Hinduism has influenced Hollywood in subtle ways, such as the growing interest in yoga and meditation among celebrities and filmmakers. Figures like Russell Brand, Julia Roberts, and George Harrison have openly spoken about their spiritual journeys and how Hindu teachings, particularly through yoga, have shaped their lives.

Spiritual practices rooted in Hinduism, such as mindfulness, transcendental meditation, and karma yoga, have become popularized within the film industry. This cultural exchange has had a lasting impact on how Hollywood approaches themes of self-discovery, personal growth, and interconnectedness.

While Hinduism’s representation in Hollywood has been mixed, from superficial to deeply philosophical, the trend is moving toward greater authenticity. As global consciousness expands, there’s a growing interest in accurately portraying Hinduism’s teachings, symbols, and spirituality. With the rising influence of Indian culture and Hindu thought in the West, the future of Hinduism in Hollywood seems to promise more respectful and profound engagement with this ancient spiritual tradition.

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When you are angry, close your eyes and ears and return to yourself in order to quell the flames. Smile, even if it takes effort. Smiling relaxes hundreds of tiny muscles, making your face more attractive. Sit wherever you are, and look deeply. If your concentration is not yet strong, you can go outside and practice walking meditation. Most essential is to water the seed of mindfulness and allow it to arise in your mind consciousness.

Mindfulness is always mindfulness of something, just as anger is always anger at something. When you drink a glass of water and are aware that you are drinking a glass of water, that is mindfulness of drinking water. In this case, we produce mindfulness of anger. “Breathing in, I know I am angry. Breathing out, I know that anger is in me.” First the energy of anger arises, and second the energy of mindfulness arises. The second energy embraces the first in order to soothe it and allow it to subside.

We do not produce mindfulness to chase away or fight our anger but to take good care of it. This method is non-dualistic and nonviolent. It is non-dualistic because it recognizes that mindfulness and anger are both parts of ourselves. One energy embraces the other. Don’t be angry at your anger. Don’t try to chase it away or suppress it. Acknowledge that it has arisen and take care of it. When your stomach hurts, you don’t get angry at it. You take care of it. When a mother hears her baby crying, she puts down what she is doing, picks the baby up, and comforts her. Then she tries to understand why the baby is crying, whether it is because of some physical or emotional discomfort.

We do not produce mindfulness to chase away or fight our anger but to take good care of it.

Look deeply at your anger as you would at your own child. Do not reject it or hate it. Meditation is not to turn yourself into a battlefield, one side opposing the other. Conscious breathing soothes and calms the anger, and mindfulness penetrates it. Within fifteen minutes of lighting the heater, the warm air pervades the cold room, and a transformation occurs. You don’t need to discard or repress anything, not even your anger. Anger is just an energy, and all energies can be transformed. Meditation is the art of using one kind of energy to transform another. The instant the mother holds her child, the child feels the energy of love and comfort and begins to feel relief. Even if the cause of discomfort is still present, being held in mindfulness is enough to provide some relief.

In the Anapanasati Sutta (“Discourse on the Full Awareness of Breathing”), the Buddha teaches, “Breathing in, I calm the activities of the mind in me.” “Activities of the mind” refers to any emotional or psychological state, such as anger, sadness, jealousy, or fear. As you breathe in and out mindfully, you embrace and calm that mental state. As soon as you are aware that anger has arisen, produce mindfulness to embrace the anger. After ten minutes, the intensity of the anger will lessen, and mindfulness will reveal many things. After holding her baby for a few minutes, perhaps humming a lullaby, the mother will search for the cause of the discomfort. Perhaps the baby has a fever or a chill, perhaps her diaper is too tight, or she is thirsty. As soon as the mother discovers the cause, she can transform the situation right away. It is important to get at the root of the problem. This is the practice of looking deeply.

“Breathing in, I know I am angry. Breathing out, I know that the anger is in me.” First, you practice recognition. “Hello, anger, my old friend.” Then you look deeply to see its source. “Why am I angry?” The first thing you will discover is that your suffering has its roots in your store consciousness, in seeds that are already there, seeds of anger, delusion, pride, suspicion, or greed. The other person is only a secondary cause.

The next thing you will see is that the other person is also suffering. You may have thought you were the only one suffering, but that is not correct. When someone spills that kind of suffering onto you, you know that he is suffering. When you understand this, love will well up in you, and you will want to help. Understanding is the key.

Thanks to the practice of mindfulness, your anger will return to your store consciousness. The next time it arises, practice the same way, and eventually that seed of anger in you will weaken. This is the practice of facing your anger, and, thanks to mindfulness, transforming it into the energies of love and understanding.

Originally Published: www.lionsroar.com

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With the destruction comes a wider acceptance of the scientific reality — and a growing motivation to contribute to solutions. But destruction also brings despair, fear about the future, grief, and panic. As we grapple with our new reality, contemplative practice can offer techniques for holding these challenging truths.

Spiritual practices are not alternatives to swift, wise action. They are complementary disciplines to education and activism. Spiritual resources can help us move from desperation to sustainable activism.

How do we get from anger to compassion?

Spiritual practice may not provide concrete climate solutions, but they do have the potential to shift consciousness. Practices and teachings can address how we relate to our grief, despair, and fear. These resources help restructure our understanding of what it means to be human, now, on our home planet.

Here are five tried and true contemplative practices from the Buddhist tradition that can help us hold the truths of climate change, species extinction, and the ecological crisis in our hearts and minds. While this list of practices is not by any means exhaustive, it is a beginning. Even though their roots are ancient, these practices are timely as we encounter the truth of suffering on a global scale.

1. Find a grounding in ethics

Some people see climate change as an ecological issue. Some see it as an economic issue. Some see it as a social issue. But, we know that human actions are at fault. In this sense, climate change is an ethical issue.

Our beliefs about justice — the values that we hold most dear — form the bedrock of our actions. These values are largely learned and assimilated from our culture. Each of us — as individuals and communities — can influence the values upheld by our culture.

Climate change is happening because of what we have valued and how we have conceived of our identity as human beings on this planet. The values have come from a dominant industrial ethos. Climate change, therefore, isn’t just a matter of what we can do. It’s a matter of what we should do.

Contemplative traditions teach moral reflections on our actions, speech, and thought. The Buddha emphasized ethics, śila, as a fundamental training for his monks. His monastic code of ethics was constructed around the idea of ahimsa, or non-violence. Essentially, the Buddha taught that ethical actions are those arising from a commitment to non-harm, gentleness, and simplicity.

Buddhism and other religious traditions have long identified love and compassion as motivators that drive effective and sustainable action.

If we extend śila to our relationship to land, water, natural resources, and animals, non-harm, gentleness, and simplicity become points of reflection for change-making.

Later Buddhist traditions developed rules of conduct, oriented towards compassion, such as the Bodhisattva precepts. These precepts extend from the idea that bodhicitta, or wise compassion, is the ground of ethical action and speech. We too can ground our activism, social engagement, and resistance in wise compassion. We can make our activism not about what we are working against, but what we are working for.

If we place our activism and relationship to the earth squarely among our deepest values and beliefs, we are more likely to turn again and again to the issue — not out of obligation, but out of genuine commitment.

2. Get comfortable with uncertainty

If there is one thing that climate scientists agree on, it is that we don’t know for certain what will happen as the earth warms. Evidence indicates that tipping points and crises cannot be averted. We have no how idea how much we can slow or ameliorate the suffering. We do not even know how long our species — and others — can survive changes that destabilize the conditions necessary for life. We are stepping into the void.

We want to know if our children and grandchildren will be able to visit the shoreline, walk in the forest, breathe clean air, and live in safety. It is human to fear that the world as we know it may be ending. This uncertainty can feel deeply unsettling.

Many of the Buddha’s teachings focus on uncertainty, not as an inconvenience, but as a source of liberation. The Buddha taught that nothing is certain, because nothing transcends impermanence. He called impermanence a “mark of existence” — an undeniable truth of what it means to be alive. To encourage his monks and nuns to face their mortality, he sent them to meditate in charnel grounds — open-air cemeteries — where they could witness decaying corpses.

The Buddha was not trying to torture his disciples. He was trying to free them. While awareness of our mortality stirs our deepest fears, it also frees us from the chains of attachment that bind us. The loosening of attachment helps us open to the truth that nothing is certain. Nothing can be taken for granted. This is how we learn to love the truth for what it actually is.

There is good reason to embrace the uncertainty of climate change as a liberating practice. The more we fear uncertainty, the more likely we are to avoid thinking about climate change. In fact, our worst enemy might not be climate denial, but rather a subtle, subconscious rejection of climate change, based on our fear of the unknown.

If, however, we embrace the truth of uncertainty, we can develop the courage to stay open and engage with the world. If we can accept the fragility of life on earth, we can invest ourselves in the possibility of collective action.

3. Work with emotions

Along with the discomfort of uncertainty, climate change can evoke many other difficult emotions. Witnessing ecosystem destruction and mass extinction, we respond with grief and sorrow. Encountering denial and global apathy, we experience anger. When we consider our children’s future, we experience trepidation and worry.

Anger can be a protective energy, a healthy response to that which threatens what we love.

Recently, I was talking to a European graduate student who was writing her thesis on the power of stories to affect climate change. The primary motivator for her work, she told me, has been anger.

Understandably, fear and anger often fuel activism. These primal emotions have kept us alive for centuries. They are good short-term motivators when we are in immediate danger. However, fear and anger are poor long-term motivators. Eventually, they result in stress and burnout — the insidious undoings of activists.

So, we need other chronic motivators for our work. In this area, spiritual traditions have much to offer. Buddhism and other religious traditions have long identified love and compassion, for example, as motivators that drive effective and sustainable action. The bodhisattva, a Buddhist archetype of compassion, typifies the possibility that positive and constructive emotions can be the primary fuel for activity. But how do we get from anger to compassion?

Tibetan Buddhism teaches that the states that we most wish to avoid are actually the key to our freedom. Instead of erasing emotions, we can metabolize them. If we take our reactivity into a contemplative space, it is possible to liberate the energy of emotion, transforming it into supple responsiveness.

We might start with an emotion like anger. When anger is heavily fixated on an object, it becomes isolating, contracted, and draining. When we take anger into a contemplative space, we can lighten our focus on the object and the story, turning inward to consider the emotion itself and our part in it.

When we take responsibility for our own anger, we can find its upside. Anger is not always reprehensible. It can be a protective energy, a healthy response to that which threatens what we love. That insight itself can liberate reactive, contracted anger into its deeper nature, a wiser, more inclusive resolve to act with decisiveness and courage in the interest of love.

In contemplative practice, anger can become an inspiration for empathy. We discover that uncomfortable states, while they belong to us, are not to our’s alone. Many others also feel anger, including the people we have othered. When we recognize that this is how so many others feel, we can commune with the suffering of others. We redirect our attention from the story stimulating anger to our empathy for all those impacted by climate change — even the deniers. By redirecting our focus from a polarizing narrative to a uniting one, we start building a more sustainable platform for action.

4. Access new wisdom

In discussions about climate change, we seem to primarily access one way of knowing — the intellect. The climate issue is couched in the language of conceptual knowing. This conceptual approach — typified by Al Gore’s documentary, An Inconvenient Truth — is critically important. We need to know what is happening, and why.

However, our response will be much more powerful and resilient if we begin to access other ways of knowing, transforming conceptually-motivated activism into an activism of the heart.

There are two alternative ways of knowing that Buddhist practice and meditation generally rely on: bodily wisdom and non-conceptual wisdom.

Bodily wisdom

To encounter our human body is to encounter the natural world. We tend to forget that we are mammalian primates! The closer we come to the body, the closer we draw to the truth of our own wildness. This connects us to the planetary wildness that we aspire to protect.

While the mind is tugged into the past and future, the body is fully present. The body’s present wakefulness is one of its great wisdoms, and we can easily access that wisdom. It is as close to us as this moment’s inhale and exhale. While we want to stay mindful of creating a sustainable future, we don’t want to do that at the expense of missing our life. The body reminds us that we are here, now, and our presence is our most powerful resource.

Non-conceptual wisdom

Buddhist meditation also introduces us to the life beyond the conceptual mind — non-conceptual ways of knowing. The wider truth is that human experience is not just mental content. While we spend a great deal of time enmeshed in our world of ideas, there is more to the mental-emotional life than what we think and believe. There is a non-conceptual space in which all of this content arises, and that space can be sensed and widened through the experiences of body. In the practice of the Great Perfection, this space is identified as naked awareness, a part of our mind that is just experiencing, prior to forming ideas about our experiences. The space of awareness can be cultivated until it becomes a holding-environment for relative issues such as climate change.

We can make our activism not about what we are working against, but what we are working for.

As we begin to identify with non-conceptual space, we access a non-dual mode of perception. In the non-dual mode of perception, the illusion of separateness is perforated. This illusion of separateness may be one of the root causes of the crisis we are in. When we are caught up in that illusion, it becomes somehow okay that my consumption happens at your expense. If we are to live sustainably, we need to get used to the idea — nay, the reality — that we are all intimately connected. Meditation leads us there.

5. Find community

A friend of mine once attended a City Council meeting in her local community and ran into a woman who was repeatedly raising the issue of banning plastic bags. Discouraged, the woman said that she could not seem to earn the respect of the city council. My friend replied: “You don’t need respect. You need a friend. One person is a nut. Two people are a wake-up call. Three people are a movement.”

That friend was the environmentalist and author Kathleen Dean Moore, and her story inspired me. A small, committed group of people can change the world, as Margaret Mead said. Finding a community of activists might not be as daunting as we might think. It can be as simple as finding a few like-minded people and starting a conversation.

In order to gracefully lean into the challenges that we face as a planet, community is critical. But it also does double-duty, laying the foundation for spiritual life.

The Buddha’s close attendant Ananda once inquired of his teacher, “Surely the sangha [spiritual community] is half of the holy life?”

The Buddha answered, “No, Ananda, do not say such a thing. The sangha is not half of the holy life. It is the whole of the holy life.”

The Buddha felt very strongly about the power of community to support the path to awakening. He lived most of his life in intentional community, and identified sangha as one of the three spiritual refuges, along with the teacher and the dharma.

Now is a good time for the eco-curious in the dharma world. There is a growing community of people who seek both spiritual development and activism. If you are one of those people, now especially, you need not despair. Your people are out there.

As we are propelled forward by the consequences out of a warming planet, it is more important than ever that activists and contemplatives work together. We can benefit from an exchange of technologies. While I have highlighted five spiritual technologies to help contemplate climate change, activists have other tools and perspectives that can assist spiritual communities to take action. Activist communities have resources for education and technologies of peaceful resistance that can help contemplatives enact change.

While we grapple with the effects of climate change, we will need tools of resilience and inner work. As dharma practitioners, we bring essential gifts to the project of healing our world. Our challenge is to bring these gifts to bear and continue their development.

By practicing with ethics, uncertainty, emotion, wisdom, and community, we develop an intimate understanding that being human is about what we think and what we believe — and we deepen our ability to embody our work.

Embodiment sends an indelible message that peace and sustainability can become a lived reality. Even when they are imperfectly realized, we can inspire the sense that our lives have meaning, and that we are living our way into ever-increasing integrity with — and service to — our beautiful, unfathomable and sacred world.

Originally Published: www.lionsroar.com

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Have you had that awkward, uncomfortable moment when a friend’s loved one has died, and you’re at a loss for words? Do you struggle with what to do when you’re with someone who’s grieving? If so, you are not alone.

Over a twenty-six-month period, I navigated a profound, life-changing series of losses: death, divorce, and destruction. Over and over again, I heard from well-meaning people who struggled with what to say and how to be with me, with themselves, in the throes of my grief.

When my eldest brother, Trevor, died in February 2020, friends offered “sincere condolences.” When my husband, Paul, moved out and our marriage ended in divorce in 2021, they said, “You can start over again.” That same year, when my house flooded, nearly destroyed by Hurricane Ida, they told me, “Your insurance will make this right,” and “You’re such a strong person.” When my younger brother, Milton, died in 2022, they said, “God doesn’t give you more than you can bear.”

“There is no ‘fixing’ death; instead there is a being with, bearing witness.”

Their words, again though well-intentioned, landed flat, felt perfunctory, like squeezing a one-size-fits-all response into what felt like a unique, oversized, and singular grief. I’m not sure that I could have even received whatever words were spoken, or that there is a “right thing” to say in those moments.

There’s something about our collective culture around grief that feels unsettling, almost shaming for the grieving person. If I’m grieving, it’s like there is something wrong with me; it’s as if I’ve got a communicable disease that you’ll catch if you come too close. With time, I became curious about the process of grief and how to be with those who are grieving.

Grief, especially early grief, feels visceral, unruly, and unpredictable. It shapeshifts and has its way with you. It’s not an orderly or linear process. There’s a sense that early grief is insurmountable; it’s like being upside down in a spiral.

With the passage of time, I saw grief as a kind of vulnerability that can open the heart to love. To grieve is a natural and normal response to a heart broken open by loss. Like loving, grieving felt porous and intimate; everything reminded me of what I’d loved and lost. At other times, when grief felt distant, it would catch me unexpectedly when I heard a song on the radio or ate something that reminded me of Trevor, Paul, or Milton. There was no escaping grief.

For a long time during and after my seemingly unending string of losses and deaths, I felt like an oddball, as though I walked around with my clothes inside out. My friends, all very reasonable people, would say, “Things will get better, eventually.” They seemed to be repeating the popular notion of a kind of linear, tidy progression of grief. Other well-intentioned friends kept reminding me of the redemptive nature of suffering: that suffering makes you a stronger, empathetic, and more relatable person because everyone suffers.

Being a dharma teacher in the Plum Village tradition founded by Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, I have taken training on how to speak and listen to myself and others in order to support healing. As taught by Thich Nhat Hanh, the essence of the ninth mindfulness training on truthful, loving speech invites us to become aware of not only the intent, but also the impact of speech and to “speak truthfully, lovingly, and constructively.” This training encourages us to “speak and listen in a way that can help ourselves and others to transform suffering and see the way out of difficult situations” and to “speak only with the intention to understand and help transform the situation.” In other words, the ninth mindfulness training offers a path of loving and supportive speech to those in grief.

Grief and loss call for confirmation and validation, not solutions or a fix-it mentality. Sometimes validation or confirmation looks like saying, “I’m here for you,” or “What you are feeling is so understandable. This loss is so very hard and this is such a difficult time.” When we confirm and validate from the perspective of the grieving person, we make space for complicated emotions. We recognize the universal quality and shared humanity of grief, loss, and mourning. We stand with rather than apart from others. We meet each other in our mutual fragility and mutual resilience.

There is no “fixing” death; instead there is a being with, bearing witness. The practice of bearing witness is to see all, including your beliefs, attachments, and judgments, and to not turn away from any aspect of a situation. When you bear witness, you allow yourself to meet whatever is arising and become acquainted with it just as it is. When combined with the Buddhist practice of nonjudgmental, open awareness, bearing witness can strengthen your capacity to be a nonreactive, spacious presence for grief and sorrow. It can strengthen your capacity to listen to another’s suffering without the urge to “fix it,” disappear, minimize, or bypass. Grief emerges from the shadows and is held in the light of tender witness.

Mindful listening and loving speech can support you when you don’t know what to say or how to be with someone who is grieving. Mindful listening and loving speech help heal the uncomfortable spaces so that maybe you dare to be silent with the grieving person. Sometimes the thing to say isn’t saying anything. Instead, you can offer loving, tender, nonjudgmental presence: not turning away, not denying, not whitewashing. Being there, right there.

Originally Published: www.lionsroar.com

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In Zen we are instructed, “When hungry, just eat.” Whenever we eat or drink we have the opportunity to turn our attention to the vivid clarity of this very moment of experience—if we take time to just eat.

Too often we feel that eating is something to get over quickly while we multitask. We eat while talking on the phone or working on the computer. It is the simplicity of just that we need to turn toward.

This moment is the only place where we are alive. Our original buddhanature, our natural mind, is not in some other place or some other time. It is, as the Shangpa tradition of Tibet says, “So close you can’t see it, so simple you can’t believe it.”

The more time we spend in moments of alive-ness, the greater ease and satisfaction we will experience in our lives. Mindful eating gives us many opportunities to be fully present and experience the liveliness that constantly arises in the vast field of open awareness.

In mindful eating, we deliberately direct our full awareness to that liveliness, in the form of the bodily sensations, thoughts, and emotions that arise and disappear as we eat. Most important, we do this without criticism or judgement. We bring clear attention and curiosity to the colors and shapes of our food (as if appreciating a work of art), to the changing fragrances and flavors, to the textures and even the sounds of our food.

Eating can be a dharma gate, because when we are truly present with anything we open the gate to Great Presence, which is an inexhaustible source of true nourishment. Here are five steps you can take to practice mindful eating during every meal.

1. Begin with Gratitude

Begin your meal with a traditional grace, perhaps one from childhood. Or you can take a few silent moments to call to mind all the people (farmers, packagers, grocers, checkout people) and other life forms (insects, bees, earthworms) whose life energy has contributed to the food you are about to eat.

Visualize them all gathered at your table and thank them. Research shows that a small ceremony before eating helps us eat more mindfully and in appropriate amounts.

2. Be Kind to Your Stomach

Too often we live at a distance from our bodies and ignore the teachings they offer us in every moment. Before you take your first servings of food, bring your attention to your stomach. How much volume would it be comfortable working with? One cup? Two cups? Three cups?

Serve yourself two-thirds of that amount to begin. After you have eaten it, check in with your stomach again. How full is it? The tongue may say it wants more tastes, but does the stomach really want more volume to work with? We can learn to make such daily life decisions not from desire or compulsion but from overarching awareness. Awareness brings choice, and choice brings freedom.

3. Take Mindful First Bites

Take a few minutes to savor the first few bites of food or sips of liquid. It helps to close your eyes and bring full awareness into your mouth. Pay attention to changing flavors, temperatures, and textures. Halfway through the meal, pause and have something to drink in order to refresh your palate. Pauses like this enable you to savor the freshness of more “first few bites.”

4. Slow Down

It takes twenty minutes for satiety hormones to be released and reach the brain, signaling that we have had enough to eat. Slowing down can help us eat more appropriately and expose our conditioned habits.

Try eating with your non-dominant hand. It’s fun and funny. Or try putting down the utensils between bites. Don’t take another bite until the first bite is fully chewed, enjoyed, and swallowed. If you want to eat less and enjoy it more, slow down.

5. Feed the Multitude Within

There are more living organisms in your gut than there are human cells in your body. This “second genome” of 100 trillion beings is involved in many aspects of our health, including immune function, excess weight gain, heart health, and even mental health. (Note: the helpful bacteria thrive on “real food,” not processed food.)

So after you eat, bring your awareness to the universe of tiny beings within your belly. Send them loving-kindness and a wish for their good health and continuing support of your body, heart, and mind.

Finally, widen the field of loving-kindness with the prayer “May all beings be equally well nourished, both with food and drink and also with the most satisfying food—the food of dharma.”

Originally Published: www.lionsroar.com

The post How to Practice Mindful Eating appeared first on Table for Change.

While Zen Buddhism and Hinduism have distinct origins and approaches, they both offer paths to spiritual realization and insight through meditation, mindfulness, and direct experience. Individuals may find resonance with one or both traditions depending on their personal spiritual journey and inclinations.

Originally Published: www.hindu-blog.com

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In the Theravada tradition, two basic forms of meditation (Pali: jhana, Sanskrit: dhyana) have been practiced in various forms.

1. The first one is closely related to the Hindu tradition of Yoga practices, involving a process of moral and intellectual purification, associated with stages of jnanic attainment.

2. The second form of meditation of the Theravada tradition is called vipassana or insight meditation, which requires concentration and is produced by exercises such as concentrating on one’s breathing. This is then used to attain directly the Buddhist insight into the truth that all reality is without self and impermanent and is filled with suffering.

This insight from the Buddhist perspective gives direct access to progress along the path of actual attainment of nirvana itself. Though vipassana forms are never completely ignored, the emphasis is placed on jnanic forms in Theravada texts.

Vipassana is the essence of what Gautama Buddha practiced and taught during his 45 year ministry. During this time, large numbers of people in North India are believed to have been freed from the bonds of suffering by practicing vipassana, allowing them to attain high levels of achievement in all spheres of life. Over time, the technique spread to the neighboring countries of Myanmar (earlier Burma), Sri Lanka, Thailand and others, where it is said to have had the same ennobling effect.

Five centuries after Buddha, the heritage of vipassana disappeared from India. In Myanmmar, however, a chain of devoted teachers preserved it. From generation to generation, over two thousand years, this dedicated lineage transmitted the technique  in its pristine purity.

S.N.Goenka reintroduced vipassana to India, as well as to citizens from more than 80 other countries. He was authorized to teach vipassana by the renowned vipassana teacher of Myanmar, Sayagi U Ba Khin, and began conducting vipassana courses in India in 1969 CE. After ten years, he began to teach in foreign countries as well.

In a ten-day residential course, conducted at established vipassana centers, students suspend all religious practice and follow a demanding daily schedule, which includes about ten hours of sitting meditation.

Three steps to the training are –

1. Students practice abstinence from killing, stealing, lying, sexual misconduct, and the use of intoxicants.

2. For the first three and a half days, they practice anapana meditation, focusing attention on the breath.

3. Purifying the mind for the last six and a half days by the practice of vipassana: one penetrates one’s entire physical and mental structure with the clarity of insight.

Originally Published: www.hindu-blog.com

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