As a practicing Buddhist, environmentalist, and resident of Pawtucketville, it is with concern that I read of the allegations about the development of the CKBM temple on Varnum Avenue. While I support the CKBM’s plans, I also strongly encourage them to work harder to keep good relations with their neighbors.

The Buddha established a strict code of conduct for the members of his monastic order, the Sangha. By and large these rules were developed in order to maintain harmony not only within the Sangha but also between the monks and the surrounding community. It is in this spirit that I hope the CKBM would encourage all who are involved in the temple project to be more mindful of their actions and the results of those actions.

One allegation that I find particularly troubling is the reported taking of soil from the Boys and Girls Club for use by the CKBM at the site of the new temple. Taking that which is not freely offered is a clear transgression of the precepts observed by lay Buddhists. I presume the individuals involved did so with neither the intention to harm nor the understanding that the soil belonged to someone else. Nonetheless it is imperative that apologies and restitution be made to those who were wronged.

I also trust the developers will go “above and beyond” to address the environmental concerns of the Conservation Commission and the Pawtucketville Citizens Council. Respect for our natural surroundings has always been important to followers of the Buddha. None other than the late patriarch of Cambodian Buddhism, the Ven. Samdech Preah Maha Ghosananda, wrote: “When we respect the environment, then nature will be good to us. When our hearts are good, then the sky will be good to us. The trees are like our mother and father, they feed us, nourish us, and provide us with everything; the fruit, leaves, the branches, the trunk. They give us food and satisfy many of our needs. So we spread the dharma (truth) of protecting ourselves and protecting our environment, which is the dharma of Buddha.”

If the CKBM wishes to enjoy the respect and goodwill of their Pawtucketville neighbors, they must offer the same. Maintaining one’s integrity is the best way to put the teachings of the Buddha into practice and serve as an example for others

 

The meditation group is featured on the front page of the September 8-14, 2011, issue of the Chelmsford Independent. There are a handful of non-critical factual inaccuracies here and  there, but on the whole it seems to be a pretty positive portrayal: ChelmsfordIndependent_110908

UPDATE: The following correction was published on page 2 of the September 22-28, 2011, issue of the Independent: ChelmsfordIndependent_110922

It was a Saturday morning in February, and Sharon Salzberg had arrived at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center to offer a benefit workshop on the theme of her latest book, Real Happiness. I sat among the overflow audience in the basement, listening with my eyes closed while her jovial voice was broadcast from the main hall upstairs.

As Sharon spoke, my mind became enthralled by the words “real” and “happiness.” My attention digressed from the sound. A thought arose: “So, what is real happiness anyway?” A moment later, another thought: “Ah, unconditioned happiness; of course!” Next: “What does that mean?”

Buddhists refer to this sort of mental proliferation as papanca. Like a runaway train papanca can be a potent force, and this particular train of thought had considerable momentum. Although I soon returned from my sojourn, my curiosity was piqued.

Now revisiting the questions that came to mind that midwinter day, what does it mean to say that something is unconditioned or unconditional? We commonly speak of “unconditional love,” of course, but perhaps with only a vague notion of what we’re talking about. And if we may speak of unconditional love and unconditional happiness, what about unconditional freedom, the ultimate promise of the Buddha’s path?

Without getting too weighed-down by semantics, we can say that the unconditioned exists regardless of a particular state of affairs. Thus unconditional love is an openheartedness that transcends the specific circumstances of a relationship; unconditional happiness is, as Sharon’s friend Matthieu Ricard puts it, “a deep sense of flourishing” unperturbed by mundane pleasures and pains; unconditional freedom is nothing less than emancipation from the primal forces of attraction and aversion. Not surprisingly unconditional love, happiness, and freedom are closely connected.

The concept of unconditional love is probably most familiar to us. However, conceptual understanding is one thing while experience is something else entirely. Can we truly know love that is boundless and unlimited, or is it only a conjecture?

In fact, love is innately human but must be nurtured in order to thrive. And Sharon, as it turns out, has become something of a popular authority on this subject, having made her life’s work teaching the practice of metta, or lovingkindness.

Metta is very simply the natural quality of a light and open heart; it is an aspiration for happiness and well-being for others and for oneself. It would be just as easy to say that metta is what remains when we disengage from our propensities for greed and ill-will. The process of relaxing – rather than reinforcing – those reflexes is what requires persistent yet patient effort.

Diminishing our compulsive reactions allows connections to grow where we might otherwise build barriers. This is where the practice comes into play. By consciously and consistently cultivating a sense of boundless goodwill, we put down the burden of expecting that the beneficiaries of our benevolence – not least ourselves – must meet certain criteria. Once we set aside our self-imposed stipulations, our capacity for kindness knows no other limits.

Practicing metta does not make us sentimental or docile. Rather we gain strength of confidence when we see our relationships without the distortion of our habitual preferences. While we fully acknowledge our inclinations, we can invite the reactive energy of those underlying tendencies to dissipate, and we can respond instead with intention and empathy. As we permit lovingkindness to permeate our attitude towards all, we are receptive to new possibilities so that even difficult relationships become workable.

Metta makes room for unconditional happiness by opening our hearts and minds to the entirety of our experience, be it pleasant or unpleasant, or neither pleasant nor unpleasant: or as mindfulness guru Jon Kabat-Zinn says, by welcoming the “full catastrophe.” Indeed metta works together with mindfulness – sati – to embrace the breadth and depth of our lives.

While metta encourages broad receptivity, mindfulness supports focused curiosity. If we invite our mind to calm its usual busy-ness by resting our attention on an object such as the breath – or phrases of lovingkindness or the sensations of walking – then concentration attunes us to ever finer measures of present-moment awareness.

As we refine our awareness, we increasingly recognize the most fleeting instances of resistance, craving, and confusion. We discover habitual patterns of liking and disliking, and we see how these predispositions influence – but do not strictly determine – our thoughts and actions. Unhindered from our predilections, we realize well-being that does not rely on circumstances being just as we might wish them to be and happiness irrespective of life’s vagaries and vicissitudes.

The cultivation of insight also evolves from the simple act of paying attention to the state of our mind and body in the here-and-now. Vipassana, intuitive insight into the nature of our experience, is the eradication of delusion; it is a visceral understanding of how things are. With diligent observation we become aware of the myriad systems that comprise our experience: the momentary sensations and dynamic processes upon which we build our sense of self.

Identifying the impersonal impulses of attraction and aversion, we no longer identify ourselves with those urges. Non-identification means that there is no striving to continually re-invent ourselves, no creating countless personae in an attempt to establish a secure sense of “I/me/mine.” The accumulated momentum of “selfing” that keeps us unsettled and off-balance is eventually exhausted. Buddhists call this nibbana; the unbound; the other shore; the deathless; the unconstructed; the unconditioned: true peace of mind.

The end of our struggle marks a qualitative transformation: a buoyancy or lightness of being that is uncontrived, blissful, and beyond compare. This radical change in perspective is what it means to be buddha: one who is awake.

As Sharon might say, each of us has the potential to be buddha. However, buddhahood requires us to recalibrate our fundamental frame of reference: the Buddha’s path shifts the emphasis from who we are to how we relate. But by using the tools of metta and mindfulness, perhaps we can indeed realize the promise of love, happiness, and freedom without condition.

I am often asked or complimented on how I get through all that I’ve gone through – the progression of the CF, the transplant, the immediate recovery, and the still-ongoing long-term maintenance of these new lungs. My spirituality has been life-saving, particularly my Buddhist practice and learning. I’d like to share with you how that’s happened, how the Dharma (the teachings of the Buddha) have helped me to deal with dharma (the way life is).

The traditional legend of the Buddha’s quest for enlightenment tells us that throughout his youth and early manhood Prince Siddhattha, the Bodhisatta, lived in complete ignorance of the most elementary facts of human life. His father, anxious to protect his sensitive son from exposure to suffering, kept him an unwitting captive of nescience. Incarcerated in the splendor of his palace, amply supplied with sensual pleasures and surrounded by merry friends, the prince did not entertain even the faintest suspicion that life could offer anything other than an endless succession of amusements and festivities. It was only on that fateful day in his twenty-ninth year, when curiosity led him out beyond the palace walls, that he encountered the four “divine messengers” that were to change his destiny. The first three were the old man, the sick man, and the corpse, which taught him the shocking truths of old age, illness, and death; the fourth was a wandering ascetic, who revealed to him the existence of a path whereby all suffering can be fully transcended.

This charming story, which has nurtured the faith of Buddhists through the centuries, enshrines at its heart a profound psychological truth. In the language of myth it speaks to us, not merely of events that may have taken place centuries ago, but of a process of awakening through which each of us must pass if the Dhamma is to come to life within ourselves. Beneath the symbolic veneer of the ancient legend we can see that Prince Siddhattha’s youthful sojourn in the palace was not so different from the way in which most of us today pass our entire lives — often, sadly, until it is too late to strike out in a new direction. Our homes may not be royal palaces, and the wealth at our disposal may not approach anywhere near that of a North Indian rajah, but we share with the young Prince Siddhattha a blissful (and often willful) oblivion to stark realities that are constantly thrusting themselves on our attention. If the Dhamma is to be more than the bland, humdrum background of a comfortable life, if it is to become the inspiring, sometimes grating voice that steers us on to the great path of awakening, we ourselves must emulate the Bodhisatta in his process of maturation. We must join him on that journey outside the palace walls — the walls of our own self-assuring preconceptions — and see for ourselves the divine messengers we so often miss because our eyes are fixed on “more important things,” i.e., on our mundane preoccupations and goals.

–Bhikkhu Bodhi, in “Meeting the Divine Messengers”

Five years ago in February, Tim and I began meditating with a wonderful teacher named Abhaya. Our friend Brenda soon joined our sitting group, and thus began the meditation group that we still maintain and organize and attend every Tuesday night. (Abhaya left us after a year for health reasons; we’ve been a primarily peer-led group ever since.)

Although I had meditated before, this was my first exposure to Buddhist tradition and philosophy. First, of course, we learned the Four Noble Truths – suffering, the cause of suffering, there’s an end to suffering, and the Eight-fold Path. What a revelation to me! Not that suffering exists, that was all too clear to me. But: Suffering Exists!! Let’s be loud about it and not pretend otherwise! It seems in our culture we try to ignore suffering or push it away by distracting ourselves with prettier or newer things, instead of looking at it straight on. How amazing – to just acknowledge that suffering exists!

The story of the four messengers (as above) is also one that we heard early, and its message got into and liberated my heart. Of course – what could be more true? Each one of us will get sick, get old and die. The only way to avoid the first two is to get to the third more quickly. Siddhartha Gautama (who would later become the Buddha) saw these things – along with the fourth messenger, the holy man – and set out to find that which is beyond sickness, old age and death. I heard this truth and said, “Oh. So I’m not that special because I’m sick; everyone will be sick at some point. There’s something more to me than just that.” In this place, in this tradition, I don’t have to feel that my sickness is something to hide and be ashamed of. As I learned – experienced – on a retreat, in this tradition, the overwhelming response to my cough is not pity (“Get away from me. I’m so glad I’m not you. Poor you.”) but compassion (“Wow – I’ve been there before / I can only imagine what you’re going through. I can tell how much you’re hurting. What can I do to help?”). It’s impossible to describe the difference one feels between receiving pity and receiving compassion. In my case, I had to be willing and able to give compassion to myself before I could receive it from others. Previous to this retreat, I always felt it as pity (regardless of the sender’s emotion), and therefore would shrug off any help. I wanted to hide my cough and my condition as much as possible, sometimes to the detriment of my health. The progression of my illness made hiding it more and more difficult; I am very grateful that I was introduced to this religion / philosophy / practice (pick your own label) where hiding is not necessary.

There is also the story of the two arrows. (I’m going to paraphrase, here.) The Buddha told the story of two men. One was shot and wounded by an arrow. It hurt, but he had it pulled out and survived. The second man was also shot and wounded by an arrow in the same way. It hurt him in the same way. But instead of pulling it out, he spent time asking ‘Who shot me? Why did they shoot me? What kind of arrow is this? What’s it made of?’ By the time he might have gotten around to pulling it out, he had already bled to death. So – obvious lesson: Take care of the physical injury before the emotional / mental injury. But the lesson that is more applicable to everyday life is this: There is some pain that we can’t avoid – a broken leg, for example. That pain is the first arrow. But then we have a tendency to beat ourselves up, ask unnecessary questions, and worry about the future – ‘I’m so stupid; I should have seen that root in the path.’ ‘I never look where I’m going.’ ‘Why wasn’t I paying attention?’ ‘How am I going to get to work tomorrow?’ This causes additional suffering – the second arrow – which is avoidable. So, to bring this back to my own life – which I was able to do fairly quickly, at least in theory: Yes, I have CF, and it causes suffering (more or less, depending on the moment). I can’t stop that suffering. But this aspect changes: I can’t cure myself from having CF, I can’t stop the coughing (most of the time), I can only do so much to slow the progression of it, and I can’t do anything about how I did or did not take care of myself in the past. If I cut out all of the negative thinking that goes with the physical discomfort, I’ve eliminated a HUGE source of secondary suffering, which often was more painful than the primary arrow. How I react to my illness makes all the difference in the amount of suffering I experience.

Finally, there’s the central teaching – better, understanding and recognition – of impermanence. Once we stop to look at existence, we realize that nothing lasts forever, even things that seem most solid. The mountains will erode; the houses and buildings will crumble; our selves and our relationships are in constant flux and growth and will eventually end. This is very comforting to someone who is sick, especially one who goes through cycles of acute sickness followed by less sickness. I will not feel this poorly forever. This pain will not last forever. This isn’t a call to suicide; the pain will pass on its own, in a natural manner. I’ve seen it happen before; no matter how bad it seems right now, I know it will pass. This knowledge can help to relax you in the most uncomfortable situations. (It’s the equivalent, on a larger scale, of the woman in the gynecologist’s office going to her ‘happy place’ mentally – a beach in the Bahamas, for example. She knows the exam won’t last forever, so she just needs to wait it out.) Even at my lowest – in the hospital in Boston, attached to a chest tube with suction, knowing that I would not be allowed to leave the hospital unless they could wean me off the suction, which didn’t seem to be working — even then, I knew and trusted and took refuge in impermanence. Either this would somehow get better, I’d get a transplant, or I’d die. At that point, that didn’t seem like a stretch to say. Even death, at that point, would have been some comfort – mainly because my body was so tired.

And then… the transplant and initial recovery. Of course I was thrilled to be alive and have a new chance at life, though I could barely comprehend it. Throughout the hallucinations, through some of the worst pain – when I’d already had what pain killers I could, and had to just wait it out — impermanence was my friend. I saw it play out constantly, as how I felt changed hour to hour.

And now… watching myself is like watching a new person. I’m reforging my identity – another proof of impermanence of self. I have enough energy to work-out on the treadmill, dance for hours at a wedding, sing for a church service or just because I feel like it. I have a huge burst of inspiration and motivation to write song lyrics and poetry. But I know…… all of this is also impermanent.

That’s where we take this into life. This is what the teachers and books have tried to teach me – but you can’t be taught, you have to experience. You have to feel what it’s like to NOT have health and energy, in order to fully embrace and appreciate having it. Feeling how quickly it was gained allows me to know that it could go away again at any moment, and that really does make me want to live every minute of every day in a way that I will be proud of – whether it’s doing something “productive” or not. I need to decide where I want to place my priorities, where I want to put my energy.

I expect I would have survived my lung transplant without my knowledge of the Dharma. I am strong-willed, and I have always felt that I was put on this earth to “do something,” which is a great motivator. But the Dharma has allowed me to thrive and grow spiritually as my health faded and then was re-born.

As Bhikkhu Bodhi concludes in “Meeting the Divine Messengers”

The final word of the Dhamma is not surrender, not an injunction to resign ourselves stoically to old age, sickness, and death. This is the preliminary message, the announcement that our house is ablaze. The final message is other: an ebullient cry that there is a place of safety, an open field beyond the flames, and a clear exit sign pointing the way of escape.

If in this process of awakening we must meet old age, sickness, and death face to face, that is because the place of safety can be reached only by honest confrontation with the stark truths about human existence. We cannot reach safety by pretending that the flames that engulf our home are nothing but bouquets of flowers: we must see them as they are, as real flames. When, however, we do look at the divine messengers squarely, without embarrassment or fear, we will find that their faces undergo an unexpected metamorphosis. Before our eyes, by subtle degrees, they change into another face — the face of the Buddha, with its serene smile of triumph over the army of Mara, over the demons of Desire and Death. The divine messengers point to what lies beyond the transient, to a dimension of reality where there is no more aging, no more sickness, and no more death. This is the goal and final destination of the Buddhist path — Nibbana, the Unaging, the Unailing, the Deathless. It is to direct us there that the divine messengers have appeared in our midst, and the good news of deliverance is their message.

X Tabber Oct 19, 2006, 10:04am EDT

Perhaps if one merely practices those things that our Enlightened examples tell us we should, but with the goal of relieving suffering instead of securing some benefit for ourselves, we will achieve our not-goal, and we will not-care.

Steve B. Oct 20, 2006, 4:16pm EDT

Thank you for this “enlightening” essay.

shak el Oct 22, 2006, 10:38am EDT

“practice is enlightenment.” Dogen

Carolion Grailbear Nov 14, 2006, 12:21am EST

And isn’t there a kind of “sea of enlightenment” experience, where one is sometimes floating, sometimes below the surface, sometimes struggling – sort of like the ebb-and-flow of samsara/nirvana attention?

Beth T. Nov 10, 2007, 4:09pm EST

Forgive me if these are naive questions, but how does awakening relate to enlightenment? As one gains experience with meditation, will moments of awakeness become more common? Is enlightenment a type of continuous awakening? Or do you have moments of enlightenment like you would have moments of awakeness?

Timothy Little Nov 12, 2007, 1:17pm EST

Beth — As far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing as a stupid or naive question! First, I think the term’s “awakening” and “enlightenment” are often used interchangeably. I think it’s probably closer to the traditional meaning to speak of “awakening” — after all “Buddha” means “the awakend one” — and that “enlightenment” is more of a linguistic artefact of early European translations of Buddhist texts. That said, there’s really no reason that one is more appropriate than the other. I think you’ll get different answers to your questions depending on whom you ask. The different traditions with Buddhism — and even different teachers within those traditions — all approach the matter somewhat differently, and with different emphases. I think you’re pretty close to the mark, tho: Certainly one purpose of meditation is indeed to sustain distinct moments of awakening, however I think one can also break through to a “point of no return” where one can’t fall back to an unenlightened point of view. Certainly that’s what the traditional texts would have us believe. If you’re interested in some interesting reading on the subject, Harvard psychologist and vipassana teacher Jack Engler gives a day-long course at the Barre (Mass.) Center for Buddhist Studies called “What is Enlightenment?,” published as a two-part article in Insight Journal: http://www.dharma.org/ij/archives/1998b/jack_engler.htm and http://www.dharma.org/ij/archives/1999a/jack_engler1.htm Of course it’s important to bear in mind that his is just one perspective….

Barry H. Jan 18, 2008, 3:23pm EST

Timothy A very interesting article, and thanks for the connection as well. I really like the phrase about enlightenment being the goal and the “non-goal,” and also the idea that in some ways the concept defies words, and so when we try to describe it, we inevitably diminish it. By the way, I think the latter idea applies to much more than enlightment.

They’re still looking for study subjects, so if you’re interested and meet the following criteria, I strongly encourage your getting in touch with the research team.

Prospective participants must:

• Be at least 18 years of age
• Not currently take psychiatric medications or hormones (e.g., estrogen)
• Be in good general health
• Currently practice metta/lovingkindness meditation almost daily (does not need to be metta exclusively)
• Have an established/long-term metta practice (minimum of 2 years)
• Have been on at least one 3+ day Insight/mindfulness meditation retreat

If interested, please contact Dr. Elizabeth Hoge at MGH: ehoge@partners.org or 617-724-0851

** UPDATE **

“Now that we are in the last semester of the project, we are interested in people with 5 or more years, but especially those with 10+ years of experience with daily practice.”

          http://awakening-forest-hermitage.blogspot.com/

Now I know where Bhante Gunaratana  disappeared to when I was visiting his monastery in West Virginia.
( http://bhavanasociety.org )

As Than Geoff writes, “This detailed summary of the causal factors leading up to stress shows why the experience of suffering and stress can be so bewildering, for the interaction among these factors can be very complex.”

Further, “The two most prominent analogies offered by the post-canonical Buddhist tradition — depicting dependent co-arising as a wheel or as a circle of mirrors — are inadequate to this task. The wheel is too deterministic in its implications; the circle of mirrors, too static. Thus I felt the need to search elsewhere for appropriate analogies, and I came across two.”

Of the two analogies preferred by Thanissaro, the second compares “the effects of dependent co-arising to a tangled skein.”

This image inspired me to look for parallels in modern scientific studies of tangled skeins: i.e., complex nonlinear systems, such as the weather, the behavior of financial markets, and the forces interacting within physical structures, such as bridges. Studies of these systems have helped to explain how complex systems can behave in unexpected ways: containing the seeds for a radical reconfiguring of their behavior — as when the factors of dependent co-arising can be converted to a path to the end of suffering — and for their total collapse — as when the path leads to a goal totally undefined in causal terms.

The Shape of Suffering requries some determination (and tolerance for numerous excerpts from the sutta) to read beyond the introduction, prompting me to wonder if there was a way in which this important teaching could be conveyed more succinctly and intuitively. Isn’t there a way to show the complex and dynamic relationships between the twelve factors of co-dependent arising?

I recall an intriguing Web project I came across some years ago called the Virtual Thesaurus.  The VT is “an interactive dictionary and thesaurus which creates word maps that blossom with meanings and branch to related words. Its innovative display encourages exploration and learning. You’ll understand language in a powerful new way.”

Say you have a meaning in mind, like “happy.” The VT helps you find related words, from “cheerful” to “euphoric.” The best part is the VT works like your brain, not a paper-bound book. You’ll want to explore just to see what might happen. You’ll discover — and learn — naturally and intuitively. You’ll find the right word, write more descriptively, free associate — and gain a more precise understanding of the English language.

VT utilizes a proprietary software technology called Thinkmap to give users the ability to retrieve a result set from large data sets.

Through a series of task-specific visualization mechanisms, users can navigate, organize and visualize that result set within graphical user interfaces. In addition to helping users find information, the visualization mechanisms help them understand the composition and structure of the data being examined.

To me this sounds like just the thing for exploring the complexities and relationships of the factors of co-dependent arising, truly bringing the teachings of the Buddha into the digital age, and giving greater clarity to how we picture the shape of suffering.

(You can try out some other examples of Thinkmap technology here.)

In the McFarlin Chapel at First Parish Unitarian Universalist Church, 2 Westford Street, Chelmsford

Self-compassion is the ground of emotional healing. It involves generating kindness and respect toward ourselves as imperfect humans, and learning to be present with the inevitable struggles of life with greater ease. This workshop will provide simple tools for responding in a kind, compassionate way whenever we suffer, fail, or feel inadequate. We all want to avoid pain, but letting it in—and responding compassionately to our own imperfections without judgment or self-blame—are essential steps toward living happier, more fulfilling lives.

Christopher Germer, PhD, is Clinical Instructor at Harvard Medical School, and a faculty member of the Institute for Meditation & Psychotherapy. He co-directs the annual Harvard Medical School conference on meditation and psychotherapy, and speaks internationally on clinical applications of mindfulness and self-compassion. Dr. Germer is the author of The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion and co-editor of Mindfulness and Psychotherapy.

This event is appropriate for beginners and experienced meditators alike. Participants should bring their own lunch and meditation cushions or benches as desired; chairs will be available. The workshop will take place in the Chapel from 10am to 4pm, followed by tea in the Alliance Parlor.

The workshop is freely offered, however donations to support the teacher and church are welcome.

To RSVP or for more information please contact Brenda Rogers: brogers1926@hotmail.com

Much of the anger, frustration and aggression comes down to the perception that our well-being is endangered and that we are helpless to do anything about it. These concerns are legitimate: people need jobs in order to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves and their families; people want to have access to quality, affordable health care; people are concerned about very real threats to their personal safety, regardless of whether that threat takes the form of war or global warming. And we feel disconnected from those who are in positions of power.

More fundamentally, however, people are simply afraid and need their fears to be heard and understood. Anger, hatred, aversion, and aggression are natural responses to threatening or stressful situations: our “Fight-or-Flight” response serves us well in short-term, life-and-death circumstances. However, human beings have also evolved an innate capacity for cooperation and compassion, not just competition and combativeness. We are wired to relate to each other, to recognize each other’s joy and suffering, and to maximize our interpersonal relationships for our mutual benefit.

I suggest that our politics has become dysfunctional because Fight-or-Flight is in overdrive. We close ranks against a perceived threat and shut down our natural emotional connections with others. It becomes a downward spiral, as our increasing emotional isolation leads us to feel ever more under threat.

If the root of our political dysfunction is unacknowledged fear, then the obvious response is to be willing and able to bring such fears to light. The consequence of sharing is to strengthen our natural emotional connections with others. Better interpersonal relationships lead to a greater sense of well-being and also lead to more effective cooperative problem-solving.

So, what if we spent less time shouting and more time actually listening to one another? What if people took the time to understand and acknowledge each other’s hopes and fears? It sounds like a good idea, but how do we get there from here?

Some neuroscientists are fond of saying, “neurons that fire together, wire together.” In other words, how we react to stressful circumstances depends on how we’ve trained our brains to respond to similar circumstances in the past. In a word: practice. If we reinforce the Fight-or-Flight habit, we’re more likely to fight or flee in the future. If we reinforce our emotional connections with others, we’re more likely to respond with empathy and compassion. The good news is that we can train our brains to respond in more effective ways, to build better – or more skillful – habits.

For example, the Buddhist tradition offers a particularly systematic and effective methodology for cultivating positive emotional mind-states, specifically lovingkindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. These four qualities – known traditionally as the Four Immeasurables – can be developed through meditation. (Interestingly, according to the tradition the lovingkindness practice was first taught as an antidote to fear.)

Through practice one cultivates a gentle acceptance of one’s own joy and suffering, neither denying nor being overwhelmed by the reality of one’s emotions. Gradually one is able to extend these four qualities of openheartedness to others: good friends and loved ones, passersby, even those with whom we have difficulties or disagreements. In essence, the practice strengthens the neural pathways that allow us to forge emotional connections with others.

This has tremendous implications for our political discourse, of course. We can see the practical value of openheartedness through the process of reconciliation: between groups of Israelis and Palestinians; between groups of Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland; between black and white South Africans. There are numerous cases on record where politically polarized communities are brought together simply by bearing witness to each other’s joy and suffering. In the process they come to recognize their shared humanity and to acknowledge each other’s common concerns.

People just want to be happy, well, and safe in a world that seems “nasty, brutish, and short.” Therein we find the paradox that defines the human condition, and the only appropriate response is compassion.