Let’s look at the starting point in the process of achieving bodhichitta: this paradigm shift in the mind where there’s no longer the usual thought of I and there is only the thought of others. Pretty intense!
The starting point, the foundation, is called “equanimity.” There are different definitions of it in Buddhist psychology. In the wisdom wing, the earlier stages of practice, we use that word to refer to the inner stability gained as a result of controlling our body and speech, and then as a result of really working on our mind, so that we’re no longer up and down like a yo-yo, emotionally berserk like we normally are. That kind of equanimity is really quite special; you become much more fulfilled and content and stable.
Here though, equanimity is quite different. It’s the same word, but a different definition. This equanimity, when you’ve achieved it – and I’ll give my way of putting it – is this heartfelt recognition that friend, enemy, and stranger are equal to each other from one point of view: they each want to be happy and they each don’t want to suffer. It’s quite precise, you know? That’s equanimity.
It’s the foundation upon which you will build love, compassion, great compassion, and so forth, culminating in bodhichitta, and, without it, you can’t get far.
Eventually, based on equanimity, you want all the sentient beings – all the friends, all the enemies, all the strangers – you want all of them to be happy, and you want all of them to not suffer.
Wanting them to be happy, that’s called love. Wanting them not to suffer, that’s called compassion. Right now, we do have love and compassion, but for whom? The first group only: the friends. As Lama Zopa says, it’s unstable; as we would say, it’s got strings attached. This is because it’s based on attachment.
By definition, a friend, from the perspective of the delusions, is a person who does what my attachment wants, who fulfills my needs, and therefore, of course, whom we adore and have compassion for. It’s completely contingent: as long as you fulfill my attachment’s needs, I am prepared for you to be happy, which means I love you, and I am prepared to want you to not suffer, which means I have compassion for you. We do have love and compassion, but it’s only for that one group – friends – so it’s totally narrow-minded. We ought to be embarrassed by how self-centered we are!
Now, what do I feel about the second category? That’s called enemy, and who’s the enemy? By definition, an enemy is a person who is proactively doing or thinking or saying things that my attachment doesn’t want. How do I feel about them? I don’t want them to be happy, and I don’t care if they suffer, which means I don’t love them and I don’t have compassion for them. Look at the world!
Finally, the third category: strangers. That’s 99.999% of the universe, and how do I feel about them? I couldn’t care less; they could all drop dead. Why? Because they neither help me nor harm me, so they don’t even exist for me; we can see this.
We ought to be embarrassed! But this is the universe: friend, enemy, stranger: by definition, the objects of the three poisons. Buddha’s analysis is so integrated; it’s so coherent when we understand it, you know?
Imagine right now in front of you, to the left, a beloved – somebody you adore; in the middle there’s the person you can’t stand; and to the right the boring one, a stranger. See them right there as you think about this.
These meditations on developing bodhichitta, beginning with equanimity, are all analytical meditations; they’re using logic and analysis to argue with ego’s absurd misconceptions, with these three completely artificial categories.
These are really intense meditations, you know? You’re arguing with delusions, and because delusions are fantasies, lies, you’ve got to use wisdom to argue with them, to prove how they’re so foolish and have no basis in reality.
There are many ways to think to get this equanimity. Think that you’re getting yourself out of the equation; this is very powerful. Right now, when we see a friend – a beloved, a person we’re close to – we’re seeing them through the lenses of attachment; it’s like they’re almost an extension of ourselves: attachment reaches out and grabs hold of that object as if it’s me and mine.
Let’s say Michael and David are mates, and Michael tells me that David, who lives down the road at number six, gets terrible migraines. Now, I haven’t met the bloke. I try to be sympathetic: “Oh, really, does he? I’m so sorry. Pass the sugar, Michael.”
Why do I not care about David’s migraines? It’s because I don’t know David. David has never done anything nice to me, and David has never done anything to harm me. That’s called a stranger, and they’re 99.9% of the universe; we know that. So I don’t care.
Now, let’s say I meet David, and we fall in love, and he moves me into number six. Now look at me: I have unbelievable compassion for David; I have unbelievable love for David; I think of him day and night, and I try to help his migraines and spend all my money on doctors. People say Robina is so kind; she takes such care of David.
What’s changed? Why do I now suddenly care so much for David? What’s changed is my attachment’s involved; I crave his approval so will do anything for him. Sure, I do have love and compassion for him but they’re unstable: polluted by my attachment. When he was a stranger I couldn’t care less about his headaches because he did nothing for me.
If you had asked David about his headaches when he was a stranger, he would have told you they are unbearable and all he wants is to be free of them; now you interview him when he’s suddenly my friend, and his migraines haven’t changed: they’re the same: unbearable and all he wants is to be free of them. No difference: stranger or friend: they both don’t want to suffer.
From the perspective of equanimity, nothing’s changed: all the strangers who get migraines and all your beloveds who get migraines will describe the pain of the migraines in exactly the same way, and they’re equal in their wish to be free of them.
Now let’s say David cheats on me with Mary, and he moves Mary into number six: now he’s shifted from the friend category to the enemy category – and now I hope he suffers with his migraines and I’ll demand all my money back! Now he no longer does what my attachment wants. We know what I’m talking about.
This is the emotional extreme that we live in and which the entire universe is based on: seeing everyone through the self-centered lenses of attachment, aversion, and indifference. It’s scientific: we can prove these three pictures have no objective reality, but it’s hard to see it because we’re so dominated by them.
In other words, David wants to be happy: it’s a fact; whether he cheats on me or is kind to me has got nothing to do with it. Equanimity enables us to see that. He might be evil, or he might be a saint, but that’s not the issue here; it’s seeing this bare-bones fact that every being spontaneously, instinctively, primordially is driven by the wish to be happy and not suffer. It’s a very profound, simple recognition, and the rest of the practices are rooted in that.
Then we can gradually learn to actually help them all to be happy and to not suffer – but first we have to know that they’re all the same in wanting it.
Equanimity is removing ourselves from the equation and getting beyond these three artificial labels of friend, enemy, and stranger. It’s a huge one.