Viewpoint: Motive Is Everything

Printed in the Fall 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:
Boyd, Tim. "Motive Is Everything" Quest  101. 4 (Fall 2013): pg. 124-125

Tim Boyd
National President

Theosophical Society - Tim Boyd was elected the president of the Theosophical Society Adyar in 2014. He succeeded Radha Burnier.In 1971 a man named Theodore Goias wrote a short  book that went on to become an underground sen­sation. The setting for this phenomenon was San Francisco just past the tumultuous peak of the 1960s. San Francisco had been a hub of activity throughout the decade and had developed into a little mecca for the hippie and drug culture of the era. The contempo­rary mantras of "Peace and Love," "Free Love," and "Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out" had attracted a popula­tion of young people pushing the boundaries of sexual and chemical norms. The buzzwords of the time were peace, equality, fairness, love, justice, and freedom. It was a mixed bag that included both intense darkness and light.

By 1971 much of the social and cultural upheaval that characterized the period was waning, and many of the young people who had been such a driving force in the various powerful movements of the time were look­ing for sustainable avenues to channel their energies. Woodstock had come and gone. The Vietnam war was winding down. The civil rights movement was losing focus. A cycle of prominent assassinations and bomb­ings was ending. The flood of Eastern holy men and women and gurus coming west was cresting. The prom­ise of a chemically induced higher consciousness had degraded into addiction, broken lives, and legal repres­sion. With so many currents of thought going on at the time, it would be difficult to identify a unifying theme.

Theodore Golas's book began its life with him hand­ing out mimeographed copies to friends. These became so popular that he self-published it in book form. When these first copies quickly sold out, an actual publisher picked up the rights. It has been in print ever since. Having read the book years ago, I can say that the writ­ing is accessible and interesting, but for me the book's most outstanding feature is the title. It is called The Lazy Man's Guide to Enlightenment. Priceless! Whether or not you appreciate the writing, that title is guaranteed to capture your interest.

The first two lines lay out the author's premise. “I am a lazy man. Laziness keeps me from believing that enlightenment demands effort, discipline, strict non-smoking, and other evidences of virtue." For longtime spiritual practitioners, these two sentences would be enough to lead to the conclusion that there could be little of value in the book. At the very least someone who has invested years in strict self-discipline and training in virtues, the idea that it is all unnecessary could be a little disappointing. But like so many things, laziness is a relative term, and the author himself shows no signs of conventional laziness. His focus is on awareness, and it could easily be said the sustained awareness he writes about only results from an extended regime of discipline and practice. Even for the lazy man "it don't come easy."

In my opinion, the book's popularity is completely due to the appeal of the title. While it does not suggest that we can get something for nothing, it does seem to say that there is a royal road, easy to walk, to the wisdom and contentment that we imagine enlighten provides.

What if there were a royal road to enlighten a single quality that stands out above and beyond all others? In Theosophical literature there is a saying that is frequently repeated. In letter 54 of the Mahatma Letters we find it expressed as "motive is everything".  It is a sweeping statement that demands a deeper consideration. What does it mean? In what sense is motive all-encompassing? A brief example might help.

I have known people who changed their diet from meat eating to vegetarian. They had reviewed the numerous medical studies about the superiority plant-based diet. In reading they found that heart disease is dramatically reduced; cancer is much less Iikely; high blood pressure, constipation, diabetes, stroke, obesity, and elevated cholesterol all are greatly reduced with the change to a vegetarian diet. Their motivation was the clear benefit to their health. After trying it for a short time, they also found that they slept better at night and seemed to have more energy. There was the added benefit that when summertime came, they looked much better in their bathing suits.

Other people I know also changed from a meat-based to a vegetarian diet, but for different reasons. They too had read the studies and discovered the personal health benefits, but they had also steeped themselves in other research. These new vegetarians had read books like John Robbins's Diet for a New America and had gained some insight into the practices of the meat industry. They discovered the enormous cruelty that went into the production of the foods they ate. They found them­selves moved by the suffering inflicted on the animals at every phase of their lives from birth to the moment of slaughter, and they made the commitment that they would not allow their eating habits to support system­atic cruelty to other feeling beings. 

So what are the results? To the chicken whose life is spared because these two vegetarians are no longer purchasing flesh foods, it makes no difference at all. Why she is not being eaten is probably not uppermost in the chicken's consciousness. It's just good to be alive. But how does it affect the two individuals who have become vegetarians? In terms of their personal health, they both reap the benefits of improved vitality and dis­ease prevention. What is the effect on the thinking of the two? Initially, for the one who is focused on her personal health, there is little change. Although the motive is self-improvement, the focus is still the self. Although it might be a healthier self, there is no expan­sion beyond personal boundaries, no broadened sense of connection with others, no extension of the sensitiv­ity to the needs of others. To the one who is motivated by compassion for the suffering of others, there is a dra­matic expansion of the boundaries of self. It is simply a fact that when we care for others, we enlarge the scope of our feeling and our thought. The limits of our sense of self expand as we identify with others. Our sensitiv­ity to the feelings and needs of others grows. These are not things that necessarily make themselves known in greater income or personal recognition. The effects are invisible, but real and lasting.

Our motivation colors everything that we do—all of our thoughts and actions. Often the consequences of our actions are unanticipated, but the productive motive behind them is something we can know quite intimately. Of the world's religions, Buddhism seems to address this idea of the primacy of motive most directly. From countless recorded sayings of the Bud­dha it is clear that he "got it." The first lines in the Dhammapada are: 'All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him, as the wheel follows the foot of the ox that draws the carriage ... If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him." The second step in Buddha's Noble Eightfold Path is right motive/ intention. In speaking to his monks on one occasion, he made the point even more strongly: "O monks, what I call karma is motive."

Not long ago someone told me a quote from Sig­mund Freud: "Buddha was the greatest psychologist in the history of the world." I thought it was a won­derful quote. In the interest of accuracy I Googled it, only to find that it is one of those great sayings that was never said, but should have been. In any case, as with Theosophy, one of the beauties of the way Buddhism approaches the subject is that it is not simply theoreti­cal. Like any good doctor, it must produce more than a diagnosis. Some cure needs to be prescribed. While there are countless methods that are said to assist on the road to enlightenment, the only one that seems to guarantee a safe journey is an awareness and elevation of motive. 

In The Voice of the Silence the all-important first step is "to live to benefit mankind." Mahayana Buddhism maintains a similar focus on bodhicitta, the wisdom mind, which is the motivation to attain enlightenment in order to benefit all sentient beings. Like many profound statements we encounter, it is simple. The difficulty for many of us comes because we mistake simple for easy. The discovery of the countless "how to's" involved in living to benefit mankind is a life's work, but this part is secondary. Once the course is set, though we stum­ble and make a thousand mistakes along the way, ulti­mately the end is assured. Motive is everything.


Presidents Diary

Printed in the Summer 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Boyd, Tim,
"Presidents Diary" Quest  101. 3 (Summer 2013): pg.114 -115.

Theosophical Society - Tim Boyd was elected the president of the Theosophical Society Adyar in 2014. He succeeded Radha Burnier.At the end of January, after I had returned from  travels to Adyar and New York, it was off to Krotona for the annual Partners in Theosophy program. Each year I find myself refreshing our read­ers' memory about this exceptional ongoing program. It started back in 2009 "to interest, support, and guide both new and seasoned Theosophists who wish to develop or strengthen skills that will enhance the pre­sentation of Theosophy." Every year since, the partners (members from around the country who are paired with one or two mentors) have met at Krotona for one week in January. The week's events involve a program by some of our prominent longtime members. Past years have been presented by Nelda Samarel, Joy Mills, Robert Ellwood, Maria Parisen, and Vic Hao Chin from the Philippines. Partners also present the various projects they are engaged in.

For the second year in a row we were fortunate to have Vic Hao Chin do the week-long program. Last year the focus was "Mainstreaming Theosophy." This year was quite special. For some time now a number of us here in the U.S. have been prevailing on Vic not only to present his highly successful Self-Transformation Semi­nar (STS) but also to train some of our members to be STS facilitators. The STS was developed over a number of years by Vic and his coworkers in the Philippines. It began as an effort to address the gap between the lofty ideals of Theosophy and the way we actually live our lives. There was a sense that in order to make the deep teachings real for us, there needed to be a means of addressing the common experiences of anxiety, fear, anger, frustration, resentment, relationship issues, and the host of other personal "push buttons" that form the greatest obstacles to a genuine spiritual life. A pam­phlet about the seminar describes it this way: "The Self-Transformation Process is a self-learning process of character-building and spiritual growth. It has been designed to empower the individual to gain mastery over the factors that contribute to human fulfillment and happiness. These are essential for effectiveness in our personal life, family and whatever profession that we engage in . . . The seminar uses experiential meth­ods and processes that allow the participant to learn by doing."

Since its early days, the STS has grown into a highly successful training process that thousands of individu­als and numerous organizations have gone through. Examples of organizations in the Philippines that have sought out and come to value the program are vari­ous police departments, national military and politi­cal organizations, youth groups, and Catholic schools and universities. It was the program's success with young people that inspired the founding of the Golden Link School (now Golden Link College) by Vic and his coworkers.

The facilitators' training lasted five days after the end of the Partners program. This winter we will be doing a weekend program at Olcott to train people in using the STS tools. We will also be presenting the seminar in other places around the country Keep an eye out for it. I feel it is an extremely valuable tool that would enable anyone to live a more fulfilling life.

While at Krotona, I had been invited to speak at the TS Ojai Valley branch, which meets at the Krotona School of Theosophy. It was (for me at least) a thor­oughly enjoyable evening talking to a packed house of old friends, family who came up from Los Angeles, and a complement of folks I was meeting for the first time.

During my absence from our national center, we hosted an artist's reception for Joma Sipe, whose work is featured in a recent Quest Books release Soul of Light. It was a fine affair, on a level with those of the excellent art galleries in neighboring Chicago. There was music by our "house band," Into the Real, featuring our staff members, the talented and beautiful Juliana Cesano, and the equally talented, slightly less beautiful Dan Smolla. There were hors d'oeuvres, an interview with the artist, a raffle, all in the midst of the wonderful artwork in our Olcott Gallery.

During February, we normally have one of our two annual meetings of the national board of direc­tors. This year was no exception. For three and a half days our directors gathered from around the country, along with John Kern, adviser to The Kern Founda­tion, and national treasurer Floyd Kettering. One task of this meeting was to replace one of our Central Dis­trict directors. Doris Swalec, from the Detroit area, has served on the board for two years. Recently she and her husband have moved to Tucson, Arizona. The way our bylaws work, directors are required to live in the district from which they are elected. The board selected Jo Schneider of Covington, Louisiana, to replace Doris for the remainder of her term. Jo has been a member of the TSA for fourteen years, and has been active in lodge work and in the Theosophical Order of Service (TOS). Doris will be missed, but I feel fortunate that the TSA has such capable members as Jo waiting in the wings.

In March I was invited to participate on a panel at a local chapter of the Institute of Noetic Sciences (IONS). There were six of us, a fascinating and inspiring group drawn from a number of traditions. There was a rep­resentative from the Ethical Humanist Society, a rabbi, a minister from a very active Chicago New Thought church, a Catholic layperson, a Buddhist psychothera­pist from the Shambhala tradition, and me represent­ing Theosophy. We had been asked to speak to the question, "What does 'waking up' mean in your tra­dition?" Around forty people attended. I first became acquainted with the organizer of the event, Ruthie Lan­dis, when I had spoken at a large event in Chicago this past November.

Later in the month the teachers and kids from the Prairie School of DuPage came into my office for a visit. They had scheduled an appointment the week before, saying that the kids had something they wanted to ask me. Just to remind you, the Prairie School has been oper­ating on our campus since January 2012. Their stated mission is "to educate and inspire the whole child, and to prepare each student for a life of discovery by culti­vating a strong sense of self, compassion and respect for others, and a deep connection with the natural world." A great deal of the school's focus is on understanding and connecting with nature. Every day the kids are out playing, exploring, and examining the flora and fauna of our forty-two-acre estate. There is a surprising num­ber of animal species living in and around our suburban campus. It has gotten to the point that any time I need to know something about the coyotes, skunks, deer, rac­coons, hawks, owls, and other creatures that share our space, I ask one of the kids. Invariably they can tell me its name, habits, where I can look to see it, where they last saw it, etc.

When the time for the appointment arrived, the kids and two of the teachers came to the outer office and checked in with Elvira, my secretary, who was expect­ing them. She announced them and ushered them into my office. We were making every effort to make a big deal out of their visit. I was sifting behind my desk. The kids, age six to eleven, lined up in front of me. They had organized their presentation so that it was presented n waves of two. The first two students told me why they were there. They wanted to ask if I would allow them to plant a bird and butterfly garden just outside of the main door (technically the back door) to our build­ing, which is also adjacent to the entrance to the school. Each group had props—calendars, photos, cards. They explained what they would plant, the type of "bubbler" bird bath they would install, and how families at the school had already been scheduled to tend the garden each week when the school was closed during the sum­mer. They talked about the cost and how they planned to raise the funds. When they had finished their thor­ough and confident presentation, I asked them if I could think about it for a minute. I put my hand to my chin and looked up at the ceiling in mock contemplation. The kids' tension was building. Would I say no? After several seconds of this sham, I looked at them and said yes. The room exploded. The kids were jumping and shouting for joy. Of course, both the kids and I knew from the beginning what the answer would be. As they said in the movie Jerry Maguire, "You had me at hello."

A final event during the month was the visit of facilitator Carrie Cameron from the Institute of Heart-Math. After our experience with HeartMath's direc­tor of research, Rollin McCraty, at our last Summer National Convention, we had been looking forward to further exposure to the institute's practical meth­ods. We had scheduled Carrie to do a Thursday public talk and a Saturday workshop. In between those dates we arranged for a full afternoon staff training. All of our staff attended, along with a number of our regular volunteers.


Letters to the Editor

Printed in the Summer 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard 
 "Letters to the Editor" Quest  101. 3 (Summer 2013): pg. 82. 

Theosophical Society - Richard Smoley is editor of Quest: Journal of the Theosophical Society in America and a frequent lecturer for the Theosophical SocietyMy good friend, the British Kabbalist Warren Kenton, who writes under the name Z'ev ben Shimon Halevi, recently sent me a copy of his latest book. It's entitled A Kabbalistic View of History. It portrays the ups and downs of history, as well as the rise and fall of civilizations, in light of the evolution of humanity.

While there are many fascinating themes in War­ren's book, one in particular stands out. It has to do with the role played at crucial moments in history by small groups of people who were working from a higher plane of consciousness. Groups of this kind included the Pythagorean school in ancient Greece; the school of Chartres in medieval times, which built the great cathedral; the Brethren of the Common Life, who revi­talized Christian devotion in the late Middle Ages; and the Rosicrucian brotherhood, whose famous manifes­toes, published around 1615, proclaimed a coming age of political liberty and scientific inquiry. And of course there is Theosophy, which began in the nineteenth cen­tury by setting forth esotericism as a third way between a rigid Christian dogmatism and an equally rigid scien­tific materialism.

While there are many lessons we could learn from each of these cases, there are a couple that stand out for me. The first has to do with timing. While a small and subtle impetus can push human history and civi­lization in a given direction, this impetus has to wait for the right moment. It is as if a rock is teetering over a precipice; one small push could make it go in either direction. But one might have to wait a long time before the rock comes into that position. Furthermore—since we are not dealing with rocks but with large currents in human life—it requires a great deal of discernment to see when that moment is at hand.

I would suggest that it is only from a higher perspec­tive that one can accurately see the moment at hand. It does not require the power of prophecy—indeed the record of prophets through the ages, from the Bible to Nostradamus to the tangle of pronouncements sur­rounding the year 2012, suggests that we have no rea­son whatsoever to believe in prophecies of any kind. But it does require a transcendent capacity to see the potentialities in the present—and to know how to make use of them. We could call this kind of knowledge and power an "esoteric impulse." 

The second thing that strikes me is that these eso­teric impulses run down after a time. The school of Pythagoras died out not long after his lifetime in the sixth century B.C. The schools that built the great cathe­drals left buildings as monuments to their legacy; they did not perpetuate themselves as schools. The Brethren of the Common Life vanished from history around the time of the Reformation.

What happens when an esoteric impulse withers away? Or, to put it in familiar language: "Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost its savor, wherewith shall it be salted?" (Matt. 5:13). 

To begin with, the founding figures pass from the scene, replaced by followers in whose minds the origi­nal  ideas take up a comfortable slumber. Practices become rote and mechanical, and the purpose behind them is forgotten. There is a curious story about a spiritual teacher who had a cat that misbehaved. To keep it from causing trouble, the teacher told one of his students to catch the cat before meetings and tie it up. The years passed; the cat died; the master died. But the school went on. Hundreds of years later, before each meeting, the followers still had to find a cat to tie up.

In the end, the energy fueling organizations of this kind is provided mostly by inertia. Sooner or later even this runs out, and the movement dwindles away. This does not always happen overnight. Much has been made of the Christians closing down the pagan temples in late antiquity, but people often forget that the energy of paganism had been dying for centuries. Around A.D. 100 the Greek author Plutarch wrote a treatise called On the Failure of the Oracles, lamenting that of the great oracles that had once been so admired in the classical world, "silence has come upon some and utter desola­tion upon others." Plutarch was in a position to know, since he served for many years as a priest at the cel­ebrated oracle of Delphi. The job apparently left him plenty of time for writing. 

What happens after the temples have closed? Some­times the impulse survives in a new and unrecogniz­able form, as Christianity in many ways carried on the traditions of the old mystery religions. Sometimes it goes underground for centuries, passed on only in tiny groups or even in one-on-one transmissions, as seems to have been the case with much of the "old religion" of pre-Christian Europe. In still other cases it may vanish entirely. Then, when the oracles are most silent and the rituals most mechanical, a new impulse arises—per­haps from the esoteric orders on the inner planes that are said to watch over human evolution—and the cycle starts all over again.

Richard Smoley


A Touch of BODHICITTA

Printed in the Summer 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Todd, Larry
 "A Touch of BODHICITTA" Quest  101. 3 (Summer 2013): pg. 110-113. 

By Larry Todd

With career and home responsibilities, social obligations, and a host of other details, it's easy to become discon­nected from the unseen realms of exis­tence we Theosophists like to contemplate. Becoming too engrossed in mundane activities (no matter how virtuous our intention) can inadvertently produce an entire host of karmic consequences. In fact, it's so easy to do that many times we don't even realize we've done it until there is a consequence that involves our own suffering.

That's exactly the situation I found myself in as a young man. In my youth, I enjoyed thinking of myself as a good person. Yet over time my life increasingly became filled with things centered around myself. Underneath my persona was a steady undercurrent of dissatisfaction. This, combined with the lack of a proper mentor, left me searching for an exit.

What appeared to be a convenient escape at that time was an active social life. As social obligations began to mount and take precedence over my goals for the future, I found myself engaging in certain risky activi­ties—namely substance abuse. Gradually, my lifestyle led me into some very dark places, and I found myself isolated. Even my own family ostracized me. Things got so bad for me that many times I found myself hungry, broke, or occasionally even homeless. I had to rely on others for basic provisions, and I would get into alter­cations as a consequence of my choices. I often ended up hurt or hurting someone else. I eventually resorted to a life of crime and spent short stints in and out of jails and prisons.

Fortunately, I was able to find moral refuge in a friend I'd made named Cinda, who worked nights at a local pizzeria. She didn't have a lot, and she worked very hard for little money to help her mother, who struggled with bills. But she loved to engage in intense dialogue when it came to matters of the heart.

Cinda was always glad to see me when I visited her at work. It became a nightly ritual for us. She was intuitive and intelligent. Often she could tell that I was hungry without even asking me. More often than not, she would cook something for me to eat and pay for it out of her own pocket or her tips. She would hand me a fistful of quarters and ask me to go select some songs on the jukebox. As soon as the music began, she wasted no time making inquiries into my latest activities. She was a conversationalist, and much of the time she could be very candid or even cynical. If you didn't know her, you might even find yourself offended by he direct approach.

We would talk for hours on end, exchanging ideas and building on them. We compared experiences and interjected snippets of humor wherever we could. She would scold me for using drugs and for other risky behaviors. Her words, no matter how harsh, were satu­rated with truth and burned deep into my conscience She would burst into laughter after administering a heavy dose of hard truth, relishing my facial expression when suddenly I realized I was wrong.

Healthy debate was just part of who we were, and many of our "build sessions" ended up centered around her attempt to convince me that my views were dis­torted and unrealistic. Yet she backed her arguments with logic. She also seemed to have an endless supply of forgiveness and selfless energy. Cinda was highly sensitive to the needs of others and often took in sick or injured animals (or people). There were a few nights when even I found myself sleeping on her couch. She was giving to a fault and was herself a victim many times because of this quality.

She was a bit of a mythology buff and prided herself on knowing every detail about a multifaceted range of pantheons. She was a huge believer in magic and a student of occult schools of thought. Our conversations wandered off into topics of occult science, such as divi­nation, astrology, psychometry, and psychism.

On a certain occasion, I got involved in an alter­cation with an intoxicated man outside of a motel room. I was alone at the time, and this individual beat me until I lost consciousness. When things came back into focus, someone was holding my head in her arms and calling my name. I still do not know how Cinda found me, but she never left until I was able to get up on my own.

There were times when she clothed me or wrote me when I was in jail. Time and circumstances altered our paths, however, and as a result our lives took different courses. Eventually I landed myself into one too many criminal cases and was sent to prison for sixteen man­datory years. After ten years, all of my immediate rela­tives had died, and I found myself struggling to survive prison life without outside help or support.

After an unintended run-in with an old acquain­tance, I received word that Cinda had returned home and was once again living with her mother. The acquain­tance told me that she knew where I was and wanted me to write her. It had been years since I'd even talked to anyone from home and at least twenty years since I'd talked to Cinda. So naturally I was excited and wasted no time in reestablishing contact with my old friend. Soon I received a response from her, but with some unexpected and disturbing news. Cinda had developed stage four metastasized breast cancer and had only a short while to live.

I was instantly heartbroken. Shortly before rees­tablishing contact with Cinda, I had decided to initi­ate some much-needed changes in my own life. I'd befriended a Jew in prison who was a Buddhist con­vert. It was through the patience of this individual that I was able to question my own views on the purpose of life. I began to study Tibetan Buddhism and through my friend got into contact with certain charitable monas­tic teachers. I underwent Mahayana thought training techniques.

This really helped me put my behavior under the microscope and make some critical adjustments. I began practicing Tantric yoga meditation and was able to modify my behavior using these time-tested formu­las. I began to intensify my study and set new goals. I got back in school and began working towards my Gen­eral Educational Development (GED) credential. As I began learning about impermanence and the dangers of attachment, my friend was suffering and dying. She was able to recognize this change, and for the first time in a very long time I was back in control. She turned to me for moral support.

I passed my GED and was stunned to learn that my scores were among the highest in the country. I even received a letter from the White House signed by Presi­dent Barack Obama congratulating me on my achieve­ment and encouraging me to use what I learned to help others do the same thing. I was granted a Georgia HOPE scholarship and was offered a job as a teach­er's aide by the education director, which I accepted. I immediately signed up for vocational and college courses being offered at the time.

When I'd first received word of Cinda's situation, I loathed thinking of the inevitable. After learning her prognosis was only giving her perhaps a year or two left to live, she asked me to help her study treatment options. Cinda had been a lifelong sufferer from manic depression and bipolar disorder. Usually medication would help treat this, but when she started chemother­apy her insurance would not cover both cancer treat­ment drugs and mental health medication.

After reading Deepak Chopra's book Quantum Healing, I became convinced that sickness in the human body actually starts in the mind and subtle body. I wrote my teachers at Sravasti Abbey in Spokane, Washington. I explained Cinda's situation and asked for assistance from a monastic named Karma Zopa. We found a Bud­dhist retreat at the Shambhala Mountain Center in Colorado. They had a yearly program to help women suffering from the effects of cancer learn how to cope with the disease and research alternative treatment options such as ayurvedic healing and holistic medicine.

I was convinced that Cinda's cancer was a direct result of her depression. My teachers also believed this, and counseled Cinda along the way. I sent her Medicine Buddha and White Tara meditations. With the help of Karma Zopa, I was able to secure Cinda a scholarship into the retreat, and I found a donor for her round-trip airfare.

Cinda's cancer had spread to her liver, lungs, and skeleton. She was in a lot of pain most of the time. She'd just had a mastectomy, and this did nothing to boost her confidence. Yet she endured with a positive attitude, still giving to and helping others. Over the next year, she wrote and sent keepsakes, and, if only for a moment, we were back to our deep build sessions again. The only difference being that this time my mind was in a better place than ever before, and instead of Cinda doing most of the giving in our relationship, I was able to find ways to help her cope.

Eventually, Cinda became addicted to the pain­killers she was prescribed, and this obstructed her abil­ity to combat her illness using ayurvedic techniques. The month she was scheduled to go to the retreat, she succumbed to her illness and died. I, of course, was devastated. I sought refuge in the sangha at Sravasti Abbey and began my own three-month Vajrasattva purification retreat. My teachers sent cards to console and encourage me, and Karma Zopa suggested that I  think of Cinda with buddha now and myself with Buddha as well.

I must admit that when practicing single-pointed concentration during my meditations, it was difficult not to dwell on my hurt until the strangest thing hap­pened to me. One night, while practicing my mantra recitations, I began to hear a faint echo. It became louder and more distinctive only when my concentra­tion on the Buddha was strongest. I recognized it as a female voice chanting in perfect concert with my own. It was at that point that I realized that everything I'd endured and accomplished was worthwhile. Karma Zopa's words became surreally true. The lesson was love.

I am so happy to have a chance to share this story with Quest readers. I only hope it will serve to pro­vide you with an inspirational lift. The Sanskrit word for compassion Buddhists use is bodhicitta. I am for­tunate to have shared in this up close and personal bodhicitta experience with Cinda and the sangha. I feel I am a better person for knowing Cinda. Even at the very end, she was more worried about how I would take her death than she was about death itself. She was concerned that people would not remember her for her personality but for her suffering. I assured her that this would not be the case.

I feel saddened, not for Cinda, but for the people who lost all benefit of knowing her and experiencing the bodhicitta energy she radiated. Her smile alone had a way of changing the entire atmosphere of a room. It's funny what just offering a smile can do to change the heart of another. I have since been fortunate enough to start participating in hospice volunteer work in prison with sick and dying prisoners. It's rewarding in its own way.

The Sanskrit word namaste describes the intercon­nectedness or universal consciousness we all share with one another in the divine scheme of things. We can learn a lot from suffering. We can help alleviate much of our own suffering just by being attentive to the needs of others less fortunate than ourselves. It's just that some­times we need to slow down in our lives to both rec­ognize and share in the suffering of others. It's easy to take life for granted. There is a lot to which we are not paying attention. What more can we give of ourselves? Cinda once told me that love is something you give and not something you get. Love, bodhicitta, simply put, is perhaps best described as the gift of oneself.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama is quoted as saying:

Because we all share an identical need for love, it is pos­sible to feel that anyone we meet, in whatever circum­stances, is a brother or sister. No matter how different the dress and behavior, there is no significant division between us and others ... our basic natures are the same.

If you're bogged down and find yourself seeking a remedy for microcosmic and macrocosmic disharmony, then slow down and exude bodhicitta energy. Taking time out to understand the suffering of another and becoming a source of refuge for that suffering individ­ual is the same as reaching out to our own suffering selves. Just a touch of bodhicitta will do.


 

LARRY TODD, a native of Savannah, Georgia, is serving a sixteen-year prison sentence. He is due for release in 2016. He is currently taking a study course in raja yoga with the Theosophical Society.


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