MEDITATIONS: THE DHAMMAPADA, CHAPTER SIX

The Sage

Many a dead-horse tortures the philosopher, not least of which is the pale mare of the death of conscience. It cannot be helped, and it cannot be another way. That is the truth of it, and like all truths, it is an icy, prickly thing to embrace—a bitter pill to swallow. So too is this second truth, that all things which we ought to assent to as good are, at least in part, acrid medicine and frost-hearted lovers. For the Truth is reality, and acceptance of reality is the transcendent dichotomy Beyond Good and Evil. It is the assent upon which all morality builds, without which, morale declines.

But as already admitted, confessing that is-which-is is hard, cold, and often times lonely. It is no wonder that lies lie about in abundance, that honesty is scarce even among oneself. Likewise, it is no wonder that Buddha Siddhartha himself advises his followers to invite critique from outside like one would harken the diagnosis of a doctor.

Like someone pointing to treasure
Is the wise person
Who sees your faults and points them out.
Associate with such a sage.
Good will come of it, not bad,
If you associate with one such as this. . . .

Do not associate with evil friends;
Do not associate with the lowest of people.
Associate with virtuous friends;
Associate with the best of people. (Buddha 20)

Keep close to good influences and avoid those known to be bad. It seems obvious as it is simple to implement, though for some that may not be so simple. But assuming one can without too much trouble manage his influences and regular social interactions, can he also stomach their criticisms? Can he learn to experience the pain of honesty as growing pains? Can he learn to experience the shame of ignorance as the lowering necessary for self-elevation? Those and these are the questions worth asking: how does one know the sage when he seems one? And how does one reorient his desires and aversions in accord with the Way made clear by the sage’s wisdom?

The answer—by becoming like a sage oneself:

One who drinks in the Dharma
Sleeps happily with a clear mind.
The sage always delights in the Dharma
Taught by the noble ones.

Irrigators guide water;
Fletchers shape arrows;
Carpenters fashion wood;
Sages tame themselves. . . .

As a deep lake
Is clear and undisturbed,
So a sage becomes clear
Upon hearing the Dharma. (20-1)

Nobility begets nobility. Sage-like proclivities predispose one to adhere to the proclivities of the sage. “For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance; but from him that hath not, shall be taken away even that which he hath” (MATTHEW 25:29). Good habits habituate one toward accruing more good habits; a lack of good habits habituates one toward entropy.

If one wishes to understand and to emulate those wiser than himself, he must on faith begin to practice being like them. He must trust himself and the world enough that something good will come out of the process of the cultivation of one’s character. He must be open to believing that the obstacles in life can be overcome by his self-transformation—that his transformation is possible in the first place, and that he will see himself with the same admiration which he currently sees the sage:

A person who would not wish for success by unethical means,
Not for the sake of oneself,
Not for the sake of others,
Not with hopes for children, wealth, or kingdom,
Is a person of virtue, insight, and truth. . . .

Giving up dark ways,
Sages cultivate the bright.
They go from home to homelessness,
To the solitude so hard to enjoy. (21-2)

Here, one is shown the entryway. Give up dark ways. The first step is to surrender those things which one knows to be wrong, to be unhealthy, to be decadent. Almost always, this means removing oneself from environments in which those vices are present. Almost always, this means removing vicious people from one’s life, as they are part and parcel of one’s environment. And if that means leaving one’s own home because it happens to be a den of iniquity, then so be it. Better to be flung into the world cold and homeless than to be roasted slowly on a spit in one’s personal Hell.

It is not so far flung to compare this sentiment to the Zen emptying of one’s cup. Full of old notions and habits, there is no room to pour in new ones. If one is to become different than one is—if one is to utterly change his life direction—he must dump out old vices; further, he must leave the his old fountains and seek out new ones. This is enough, this searching. It is the first foot on a Pathway forward; and though it will be painful, cold, and lonely with no one but for one’s shadow for company; in time, one’s shadow will become a tolerable companion. Then will the sage’s criticism seem delightful, because one will have become sagacious himself.

Buddha Siddhartha Gautama. The Dhammapada; Teachings of the Buddha, translated by Gil Fronsdal, Shambala Publications Inc, 2008.