February 4, 2023
I have heard the word joy used in numerous ways, and it always has a strong allure. But it also brings a nagging ache, for what I think of as true joy seems so rare. What does the word joy convey that seems so alluring, yet is so elusive as we go about our daily lives?
Is joy the feeling that comes when something good happens — winning a competition or gaining a prize? The reward of pleasant experiences or satisfying sensations?
These do not capture the experience of true joy for me. It is deeper, richer, touching a different level of my being.
Joyful Participation in the Sorrows of the World
I heard one powerful image of true joy when sitting in a converted warehouse on the Upper East Side of Manhattan many years ago. As I listened to Joseph Campbell unravel the formative myths that shaped humankind, I was oblivious to the bare walls and austere atmosphere in which his two-day workshops occurred.
Besides the content, it was inspiring to watch a master storyteller in his late 70’s hold an audience in the palm of his hand (or perhaps better said, in his heart and mind). These workshops were powerful experiences, and I attended as often as I could.
Toward the end of this particular day, he was talking about the similarities and differences between Jesus and the Buddha. After mentioning the differences, he said there was one dramatic similarity between the two, highlighted by the fact that most of those who came to each of them were distressed, sick, or having difficulties in their lives. They came because Jesus and the Buddha offered relief from suffering, hope in place of despair. Each inspired belief in the possibility of a better life.
Crucially, when these two encountered suffering, they were not overcome by it, were not pulled down or thrown off by it. On the contrary, they were able to meet it with love and compassion, and lift the downtrodden toward hope and possibility.
It is clear that both Jesus and the Buddha could have found fame and success in a worldly way if they had chosen to do so, for they were both quite gifted. But that was not what they chose. Each felt he had found profound answers to life’s deepest questions, but did not withdraw from interacting with ordinary people, or even the outcasts of their societies. Rather, they spent their time helping and serving, especially those who were intensely looking for answers, and those who were suffering.
At the end of his presentation that day, Campbell summarized what he was saying in one phrase. The Buddha and Jesus, he said, had both reached a place in their lives where they were capable of “joyful participation in the sorrows of the world.” When he spoke those words, it was as if an electric current surged though my body. It seemed exactly right. True joy could only be experienced after a full acknowledgement of the struggles, coming to terms with the sorrows of the world.
Even more, perhaps true joy led to a spontaneous movement toward alleviating the struggles and sorrows of those one encountered each day. I wanted to understand more, and to discover how one could reach such a place.
Being with Suffering
Most of us have spent time with those who are suffering, either physically or emotionally. Usually we spend time with them because it seems to be our duty to do what we can for family members or friends who are in trouble. The world is filled with sorrows, and most of us are faced with the necessity of dealing with problems in our own lives, as well as in the lives of those with whom we are connected.
When we are confronted by the sorrows of others, however, we struggle to keep from falling into sorrow, sadness, and despair ourselves — the heaviness tends to pull us into its orbit. This sometimes leads, when faced with the difficulties of others, to avoiding them or limiting the time we spend in their presence. Or we immerse ourselves in busyness, trying to help, but also trying to escape our own troubled feelings. We might put on a cheerful face and act as if everything is fine, a “stiff upper lip,” and try to convince those who are suffering that things are not as bad as they seem. But beneath our fragile smile, we know our own heaviness is there. We sense its presence, as do many of the people we are trying to help.
But the Buddha and Jesus exemplified another approach to suffering: They met the sorrows with peace, love, and compassion — without avoiding, compulsive fixing, or being dragged down themselves. Day in and day out, they were able to bring an uplifting spirit to the difficulties of life — their own as well as those of others. Rather than being overwhelmed by life’s trials and tribulations, they rose above them, even used them to move toward fulfillment and meaning. When people came to them with burdens, the Buddha and Jesus were not drawn into the sorrows, but responded with love, compassion, hope, inspiration, and most surprisingly, sometimes even joy.
No wonder, then, the sick and struggling crowded around, while people who were satisfied with their lives seldom sought them out. Those who were satisfied went on with their lives in the world just as they were — as long as the good times rolled.
But good times do not last forever. At any given moment, difficulties and struggles erupt for all. And it was at such times that people sought out Jesus and the Buddha. When they did, the mood and energy they encountered was radically different from being with most other people, and that difference explains a great deal about why these two are among the most impactful figures in human history.
Skeptico: How were the Buddha and Jesus able to inspire and heal others?
Wisdom Seeker: Neither Jesus nor the Buddha acted from duty, family responsibility, or from personal, ego-based feelings. This is not to disparage such motivations. They have their merit. It is simply to notice that in the presence of Jesus and the Buddha, something was different, and large numbers of people found a peace and affirmation they could not find anywhere else. They felt healed, felt the possibility of a new and more fulfilled life — were inspired to change their own lives and live differently.
Skeptico: How were these two able to do this?
Wisdom Seeker: Each could completely let go of identification with his ego and break free of the family and cultural stories they had been given.
Fears, anxieties, desires, and expectations reside at the level of the ego, and in the expectations into which we have been inculcated while growing up. The first step, then, in moving toward the state Jesus and the Buddha reached is to develop an identity beyond the ego and the cultural stories we were given. With that step, one is free from anything to which difficulties can attach.
For those who have reached this place, there are no hooks on which the struggles of others can catch hold. Being free of ego attachment allows one to be with others without getting pulled into the dramas, no matter their ferocity. Being free of personal anxiety and fear, one can be with others with love and compassion, no matter what is going on.
The second step is that the Buddha and Jesus, and other saints and sages through history, discovered a harmony beneath the tumultuous surface of existence — and were able to attune their lives with that harmony. For those who have reached this place, what remains is a spirit that is free, and the saints and sages of history say then there is joy, there is peace, there is serenity, there is bliss.
In every land, a few saints and sages through the ages reached this state. Being in touch with the deep harmony of existence, they could give those who came into their presence a glimpse of this harmony, a feeling sense that it is there.
Skeptico: How do those who have reached such a place spend their time?
Wisdom Seeker: (1) They dwell in the experience of the harmony. (2) They teach others how to reach this place themselves. (3) They serve those who are suffering and in need. The mix of these varies, with different saints and sages emphasizing one or another of the three, but there is usually a natural rhythm of movement between them in their lives. The crucial difference between those who have reached this level of fulfillment and the rest of us is freedom from ego ambitions and societal motivations, as well as a connection to the deep harmony transcending normal concerns, fears, and anxieties. Those who have reached this freedom and deep connection are centered in love and compassion and radiate a feeling sense of peace and joy.
Choose Joy
Skeptico: I can think of a few people whose stories suggest they reached such a place, but what about me? I am not there, not even close. What do I do?
Wisdom Seeker: A good question! Very few of us have reached the place the wisdom traditions suggest is possible. When and if you reach it, you will not need to think about how to act or what to do — the right actions will flow spontaneously from the center of your being.
Skeptico: I have tried letting go of all ego identifications and experiencing myself in harmony with, or even at one with, all that is. Every time I have done this, however, I have gotten discouraged, for I immediately feel I am so far away from being able to live it that I am overwhelmed. So I quickly return to being caught up in my everyday affairs.
Wisdom Seeker: It is your ego that gets discouraged. Discouragement always involves your ego and an ego story. Start by reflecting on the possibility that you might be more than your ego. The ego is an important part of you, but it is not all of you.
Importantly, your ego can never reach the place the saints and sages speak of, nor can it judge how well you are doing in reaching it yourself. In fact, the ego will often resist going there, for stepping into this higher reality requires a diminishment of the importance of the ego. Try, then, not to identify with ego discouragement; it has very little accurate information to give you about this journey.
Skeptico: I kind of understand what you are saying, but it is pretty abstract. How do I go about living my life each day?
Wisdom Seeker: One way is to develop a strategy to deal with these two situations:
What will I do when I feel bad about myself?
When I am angry or depressed, how will I interact with others?
Psychology has shown that repression and denial are not very effective responses. In fact, they tend to create more problems than solutions. What I first try to do is acknowledge what I am truly feeling. Then, after acknowledging the feelings and taking the practical steps I can think of to deal with them, there is a radical step that is possible: I can choose joy.
One of the most dramatic examples I know of choosing joy comes from John McCarthy, who was a British journalist taken prisoner in 1986 by a radical group in Lebanon. His story is much more extreme than most of us will ever face, so it conveys what is possible even in extreme circumstances. (See his fascinating book, Some Other Rainbow.)
McCarthy was a prisoner for five years, and during those years was treated very badly; for instance, he was not allowed to see the light of day for the entire time (when he was taken out of his various cramped, confining prisons, he was always blind-folded). After many months alone in this captivity, one day he was finally placed in a cell with another prisoner, and as they got to know each other, they made an unspoken pact to attempt to lift the spirits of the other whenever they could. McCarthy recounts in his book how the phrase “choose joy” became a central theme in their lives. In response to a reporter’s question about how that was possible in the situation they were in, McCarthy answered:
“I think it came out of the realization of the wonder of being alive. It often came as a simple celebration of our shared humanity.
“Even observing the humanity of the guards, although at times it was a cruel humanity, had a huge value.
“And there was a joy in seeing how one could choose to be undaunted in the most frustrating and frightening times — this was something so simple, pure, and alive!
“The purpose of living, in that extreme circumstance, was simply to live, and to share what one could. So, sometimes, when we should have been weeping or gibbering in the corner with fear and despair, we would be rolling around the floor in hysterical laughter. It wasn’t neurotic laughter, but a sheer delight in being human beings who were able to think ourselves out of the box.”
Skeptico: I don’t think I could choose joy if I were being kept in horrible circumstances and being tortured.
Wisdom Seeker: Maybe not. I am not sure I could either. But the fact is that you do not know how you would respond if placed in a truly difficult circumstance. Perhaps you would surprise yourself. A lot of people through the ages have risen to heights they would never have imagined when faced with a difficult trial.
Skeptico: I hope I don’t have to find out!
Wisdom Seeker: I very much hope you don’t, either. And I hope I don’t. But the value of keeping such extreme examples in mind is to understand that whatever arises, we have the capacity to choose our response. If I can keep that in mind, it helps tremendously in dealing with the trials and tribulations that arise in daily life. If I can remember that I have the possibility of choice, and even of choosing joy no matter what arises, then hope and freedom are continually a possibility for me.
Skeptico: But if I have lofty expectations, won’t I feel disappointed or guilty when I don’t live up to them?
Wisdom Seeker: Great question! If you make the decision to choose joy, it is crucial not to expect yourself to do more than you can do, be better than you are. You simply do the best you can each moment to move toward the highest possibility. Then, whatever response you made in the past — accept that. What you did a moment back has already happened, and you can’t change it, so don’t try. Just keep remembering, as you go forward into the next moment, you have a certain amount of freedom to choose your next response. Try to keep clearly in your mind and heart an image of the kind of person you would like to be in your next action.
Getting down on yourself for not being as good as you wanted is self-indulgent — even narcissistic. It is a negative story you are telling yourself that centers on you. Such a negative story makes what happened to your ego self of central importance. In telling ourselves these negative stories we often exaggerate how bad we are, or have been, which is negative narcissism.
Through Defeat to Joy
An antidote to this kind of narcissism comes from Helen Luke in her small book, Through Defeat to Joy, about the novels of British writer Charles Williams. In her summary of six of his fantasy novels, Luke concludes that one message is that we only find true joy through a profound acceptance of defeat. My sense of what she is saying is that by accepting the defeats that life inevitably brings, we have the chance to gradually recognize that such defeats are only to the ego. The more we realize this, the greater the opportunity to let go of identification with the ego.
In the novels, this possibility is presented again and again in various ways. Williams says of Chloe Burnett, a central character in Many Dimensions, “In matters of pleasure she had a high sense of duty, and not to cause gaiety appeared as a failure in morals.” This is a radical idea: That we have a moral duty to do what we can to lift the spirits of those around us. When we feel bad, what we usually want is for those around us to commiserate with us, to understand and sympathize with our pain. But as Helen Luke points out, when someone is struggling, if they choose to uplift others, they “will instantly experience a radical change in their neurotic gloom.”
In other words, the path to lifting your own gloom is to do what you can to lift the spirits of others. Helen Luke is here echoing the poet Rumi who writes:
If a man or woman flails about, he not only
Smashes his house,
He burns the world down.
Rumi continues:
Your depression is connected to your insolence
And refusal to praise. If a man or woman is
On the path, and refuses to praise — that man or woman
Steals from others every day — is a shoplifter!
This path is not easy, of course, but Helen Luke insists that the way to fulfillment is to adopt “an ethical attitude toward joy.” She is under no illusion that doing so will quickly “overcome the depression and gloom which our moods let loose into the atmosphere.” But for those who are “willing to own the thefts which their black moods perpetrate — stealing from others their peace,” a moral commitment to uplift others will gradually open a path toward one’s own joy.
In another of Williams’ novels, Sybil, the heroine in The Greater Trumps, is one of the most mature and impressive of all the heroes and heroines I know in any novel. Her example presents a clear description of what one can do when one feels bad:
“There had been a time when the natural laughter that attended on Sybil’s intelligence had been hushed, and her brother remarked, “Sybil seems very mopy these days.” She had been shocked when she heard this — by a sense of her own disloyalty — since she believed enjoyment to be a debt every person owes to their fellows, partly lest one diminish the other’s precarious hold on it. She attempted dutifully to enjoy, and failed, but gradually, as she attempted it over and over, the true gift was finally delivered.”
Choosing joy, however, must not involve denying what is going on within oneself, and it must not ignore the very real problems in the world. Williams was writing in the immediate shadow of two terrible World Wars and the Great Depression of the 1930s, both of which had affected him personally and powerfully. His novels are partly his way of coming to terms with the horror of those times, and denial is not the answer he gives. In fact, he insists we must face all the facts, both internal and external, as they are. He even says that to deny the truth of one’s suffering will bring about the impossibility of joy: “Those who refuse conscious suffering, thereby refuse joy.”
Skeptico: I don’t want to refuse joy! But if I acknowledge fully to myself how bad I sometimes feel and squarely face all the problems in my life, and feel bad, what then?
Wisdom Seeker: Carl Jung, after working with thousands of clients who were suffering, said, “A psychoneurosis must be understood, ultimately, as the suffering of a soul that has not discovered its meaning.” In other words, the internal mental struggles that make us unhappy, the sense of “feeling bad,” might actually be a call to search for greater meaning. If this is the case, you will overcome your suffering only by discovering that which is truly important and meaningful, that which you are called to do with the time and energy of your life. If feeling bad can serve this end, then your suffering should not be avoided, or feared, but can become the impetus to discover a richer and fuller life.
Skeptico: That seems far beyond my reach. Can you give me practical steps?
Wisdom Seeker: If something bad has happened to you, acknowledge it fully. Grieve it honestly. If bad actions are still going on, stand up for your rights if you can see a skillful way of doing so. But then make an effort to cultivate care and concern for others. Then, the radical step that most do not take is to form a conscious intention to choose joy. This does not immediately end all problems, or bring immediate joy, but it sets us on a path that numerous wise ones have said will eventually lead to joy.
A practice for joy
Envision going through each day giving as much positive energy as you can, including joy, to everyone you meet, even when you feel bad. As you develop an image of how you might do this, begin to practice it each day.
What Is Joy?
Skeptico: Joy means many different things to different people. What does it mean to you?
Wisdom Seeker: For me, true joy is very different from pleasant experiences or having a good time. It doesn’t arise from accomplishment, achievements, or success. A useful distinction is between happiness and joy.
Aristotle is often quoted as saying that everyone seeks happiness as their final fulfillment, but what he meant by happiness is very different from the way that word is used today. Aristotle used the word eudaimonia, which means something like “a life governed by virtue that leads to a deep sense of completeness and fulfillment.” Eudaimonia is made up of three syllables, which mean, roughly, “good,” “soul,” and “lasting.” Thus, eudaimonia is to have a good soul that has become the center of who you are and how you live all the time.
Importantly, Aristotle made clear that this is not about pleasure, wealth, or honor; it is not about what other people think of us, or do to us, or our role and status in society. In fact, at the end of the Nicomachean Ethics, his great work on how to live, he uses a new world for supreme happiness, makarios, which is best translated as “blessedness,” and means coming from, or being in harmony with the divine. It is fascinating that the worldly-focused Aristotle looks to a connection with the divine realm as the source of true happiness. What he meant by happiness is thus very close to what I think of as true joy.
The American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson also thought a lot about these things, and he felt there was a universal spirit or current that was the one source of all the highest things to be valued, including love, justice, temperance, and virtue.
For Emerson, experiencing this fundamental spirit brings “our highest happiness.” “Wonderful is its power to charm and to command. It is a mountain air.” By this force the universe is “made safe and habitable, not by science, or power.” When one experiences this spirit, “It makes the sky and the hills sublime,” and “time, space, eternity, do seem to break out into joy.” That sounds like true joy to me.
Understanding joy in this way encompasses the experiences of many of the saints and sages of history, as well as prominent teachers in every wisdom tradition, all of whom proclaim the possibility of deep joy. It is the bliss of the Hindus and the ecstatic joy of the Christian saints. And Emerson said that when “the mind is pure,” joy reveals itself as part of the ground of our being, which corresponds perfectly with the Buddha saying: “When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.”
The Sufi tradition is full of images of immersing oneself in love with the Divine, and love is the path to joy, for as Rumi says, “Lovers who drink the dregs of this wine reel from bliss to bliss.” (It is encouraging to think that even those of us who find only the “dregs of the wine” of this love experience bliss.)
Those who have had a taste of this nectar, even just the dregs, will be spurred to seek more, to continue the journey to meaning and fulfillment with increased determination — and the joy it can bring. And a few blessed ones through the ages seem to have come to rest in a continuous experience of true joy or bliss, have reached Aristotle’s makarios.
Skeptico: Doesn’t the suffering we all experience in our lives prevent this kind of joy or bliss?
Wisdom Seeker: Not at all. In fact, some of the wisdom teachers say suffering is a prerequisite, that only if you come to terms with the reality of suffering at the deepest level can you ever experience true joy. In fact, many saints experienced joy or bliss in the midst of their suffering, even while being martyred. There are numerous Christian and Islamic examples, and the Talmud tells of Rabbi Akiva, who was sentenced to death by the Romans in a most painful manner for teaching the Torah. As the sentence was being carried out, his disciples were shocked to discover that their Master was joyously engaged in prayer.
Skeptico: Is suffering necessary for joy or bliss?
Wisdom Seeker: I do not choose to believe that it is necessary, but the message of all the great teachers is that suffering is not a barrier to joy. True joy must make room for the possibility of suffering within itself.
To live a human life sometimes means to suffer. If true joy required getting rid of any chance of suffering, then joy would be impossible. Instead, the saints and sages tell us that accepting suffering as a natural part of life is a necessary step toward finding true joy. This is the heart of Stoic philosophy, as well as the message of many Buddhist teachers. Or as Aristotle put it in his practical way, problems in life “mar supreme happiness in that they inflict pain and thwart many activities. Still, nobility shines through even in such circumstances, when a man bears many great misfortunes with good grace not because he is insensitive to pain but because he is noble and high-minded.”
An Image of True Joy
One image of joy or bliss that has always moved me is the final Ox-Herding picture, which provides an illustration of what living from a place of joy might look like. (The Ox-Herding pictures are a series of ten drawings that convey the spiritual journey from beginning to end in the Zen tradition.)
In the last of the ten pictures, the seeker, who has realized “no-self,” enters a village marketplace in ancient Japan. He is bedraggled, but unconcerned with his appearance: “Although my clothes are ragged and dust-laden, I am ever blissful.” (All the pictures have short poems that have been attached to them through the centuries.) Under this picture it says:
Leaving behind all attachments
I stroll through the marketplace
Mingling with the people of the world
Wandering through life, radiating joy.
In another commentary it is said that the enlightened wanderer strolls through the marketplace of human life with a smile. He is free from any concern about how others perceive him, or the world treats him, and the resulting smile and air of freedom attracts others to him. They sense he has something they want, has discovered a secret they wish for themselves, and so ask him about “the Way” (the Way to reach the state he has found).
Such a one is filled with joy. Because she is filled with radiance (the wanderer could just as easily be understood as feminine), joy is radiated to everyone she meets. Yet there is no effort involved — she can simply “be.” Having transcended all ego concerns, she is centered in ultimate “beingness,” and thus is free to experience joy and bliss. And although there is no effort, she has a profound effect on others — even has “bliss-bestowing hands,” for this feeling of bliss, of joy, is healing to those she meets.
Then there is this mysterious line: “When he walks past, barren trees spring to bloom.” “Trees” here is a symbol for all living things, so the image is that the joyful wanderer affects all living things in his vicinity with his “bliss-bestowing hands.”
A wonderful modern example of this comes from American psychologist Paul Ekman, who recounts how, in a moment during which he was in the presence of the Dalai Lama, he felt a pervading sense of “goodness” radiating from the Dalai Lama. In that moment, Ekman felt he was healed from his long-term issues with anger. But there had been no discussion of his anger. It was as if there was a force-field of goodness radiating out during the conversation, and Ekman was healed by it, healed from a lifelong issue without any words being spoken or any direct reference to the problem. (Ekman probably contributed to this outcome by being ready for it inside himself.)
There are, of course, many examples of saints and sages in every tradition who have been able to bring a portion of their joy to those who were suffering or in sorrow. Shining examples in the Christian tradition are Mother Teresa in the slums of Calcutta; Albert Schweitzer in the heart of Africa; Martin de Porres sitting up night after night with the sick and dying in Lima, Peru; and in the United States in recent times, Father Gregory Boyle riding his bicycle through the tenements of Los Angeles, helping young gang members open into a different life.
Endless similar examples could be given, for many special ones through the centuries have brought relief, healing, and even joy to the suffering of the world. Many did so even while experiencing suffering themselves. One of my favorite examples is Robert Assagioli, an Italian psychiatrist in Italy before World War II. He had studied Freudian thought and several spiritual traditions before he was arrested (because he was Jewish). He was placed in solitary confinement by Mussolini’s Fascist state, but used his time in prison in an unusual way: He meditated, attempting to penetrate to the very essence of who he really was.
These meditations led to profound experiences, recorded in an article entitled Freedom in Prison. Part of what he experienced:
“A sense of boundlessness, of no separation from all that is, a merging with the self of the whole … Essential Reality is so far above all mental conceptions. It is inexpressible. It has to be lived … Joy inherent in Life Itself, in the Substance of Reality … The realization of the Self, resting and standing in Itself … The selfless Self … The three attitudes of the supreme paradox: No Self (Buddhist), Merged Into God (Mystic), Realization of the True Self (Vedanta).”
The method of meditation he developed while in solitary confinement was: “1. Physical relaxation, rhythmic breathing; 2. Emotional quiet. Affirmation; 3. Stilling the mind; 4. Raising of consciousness to higher levels.
Then, in terms of our discussion here, he moved to:
“Radiation — deep conviction of the reality and effectiveness of psychospiritual radiation of compassionate love to the inmates, of radiations upon the world … Endeavor to prove in a scientific way the effectiveness of mental and feeling waves, of the power of mind on the body … Revolutionary importance of this … Man as a psychospiritual powerhouse and transmitting and receiving station.”
Skeptico: Do you really think I can do anything like this?
Wisdom Seeker: Yes, but it is not easy. Most people make the mistake of thinking they must first get rid of the problems in their lives, and then they will find peace, happiness, and joy. But this is not the way it happens. Human life always involves problems, and even suffering. The only way to experience true peace and joy is to understand the clear distinction between the ego self and the problems it is experiencing, and the “you” that is beyond the ego — and to learn to shift your identity, who you think you are, to that larger self beyond the ego.
Skeptico: But I feel so far from the place these great saints and sages reached. I hate to keep asking the same question, but what can I do?
Wisdom Seeker: Most who have tasted true joy and bliss do not dwell in it all the time. No matter how much a person has experienced it, if they are not in the experience right now, they must make decisions about how they will live. This was true of most of the wise ones through history, for most did not dwell in the ultimate state all the time.
So, it is not an “all or nothing” thing. If you step into real joy for an instant, you will simply live from that energy without thinking about it or doing anything special. If you are not in such a moment, then a clear intention to recognize and open to them when there is the slightest opportunity makes it more likely to occur. So forming an intention to recognize and be open to such moments is one important thing you can do.
In my life, I have had powerful moments of opening to wonder and the mystery while traveling, hiking, and even during a conversation with a friend. Suddenly a window opens, and I can look through into a broader world, a world that is brighter, one that offers a glimpse of true joy — even amidst the turmoil of life.
Almost everyone has had such moments. Often, however, we do not pay attention or give them any value when they occur. So take the simple step of being awake to these moments when the opportunity arises, and have the courage to step into them whenever possible. Doing this one thing will increase their frequency and their duration.
Another step is to pay attention and focus on things that have opened the door previously, and try to organize your life to include them more often.
Finally, all the wisdom traditions suggest practices that make such moments more likely and increase their intensity and depth.
It is not complicated to begin, requiring only intention, attention, and a little courage.
Joy Among the Saints and Sages
Skeptico: Returning to Jesus and the Buddha, joy is not a word I usually associate with either.
Wisdom Seeker: That is simply because the joy they experienced is not the joy the ego thinks about or seeks. To find the fulfillment and joy that lie beyond the wishes and images of the ego, you must first accept the defeat of all such ego goals and images. Your ego cannot judge or probably even recognize the true joy the saints and sages describe. To do that, you must step outside your ego images.
Looking at the life of Jesus, in his last hours he took that final step of stepping outside with the words, “Not my will but Thine be done.” He accepted the suffering that was to be his fate, stepping beyond identification with his personal self, and shifted his identity to a larger perspective, beyond the ego.
Not an easy matter, of course. But if you make an effort to get beyond all your ego wants and wishes, you too might find — to your surprise — that your ego is not who you really are. Rather, you will discover that your true identity is much larger.
In the case of Jesus, this process was well underway before he spoke those final words. By the age of 30, we know he had left his former life and all the ego images of what a life in the normal world would mean. Then, for about three years he travelled around with a band of men and women as he taught, healed, and, according to some recent scholarship, enjoyed fellowship with his band at night — which probably included joyful singing.
Jesus was raised in the Jewish tradition, in which dance and song are used to express joy and awe. The Psalms, with which Jesus was deeply familiar, are filled with songs of praise. And in Zephaniah we are told that “The Lord will rejoice over thee with joy; … He will joy over thee with singing.” It is quite likely that Jesus used this tradition in his gatherings with his followers during their many evenings together — and when they gathered around the campfires at night there was storytelling and joyful singing.
In the 13th century, St. Francis of Assisi revitalized the Christian church by following the example of Jesus, becoming an itinerant teacher and gathering a band of followers who lived outside the bounds of normal society. Of interest here, Francis was famous for joyful singing. In fact, many were drawn to him because of his joyful spirit. It is quite likely he was following in the footsteps of Jesus in these gatherings with his followers.
Skeptico: What about the Buddha. I don’t hear people talking about him in relation to joy. Instead, I hear them saying the Buddha taught that the ultimate state was nothingness, a void, empty of any positive feelings.
Wisdom Seeker: Actually, that is what those who know little about Buddhism often say when they criticize it. The best-known images of the Buddha show him with a peaceful smile — as if he has understood the deepest secret and, after seeing into the heart of it all, sees something pleasant, perhaps slightly amusing. Importantly, when the Buddha was asked whether one would find bliss in the ultimate state he described (nirvana), his answer was emphatic: “Yes: Bliss, my friends, bliss is nirvana.”
This bliss has nothing to do ego satisfaction, of course, or the pleasant experiences of normal life. One of the Buddha’s core ideas is that all ego life is unsatisfactory in the end. (The word he used was dukka, and it is best translated as unsatisfactoriness.) The only escape from this unsatisfactoriness is to waken to who you really are, beyond the ego, and then you will dwell in the realm of the timeless. Then you will directly experience the reality of who you really are, which is “imperishable,” “deathless,” was never born and can never die.
To reach this place, however, you must accept that pursuing the rewards of an ego life will only bring defeat. His teaching, then, is to realize this truth right now and enter the stream, the path of searching: To begin your quest to wake up fully to who you really are. After entering the stream, which is the first of the four levels on the path to total liberation, you will gradually realize that it is only by letting go of all desires for ego satisfactions that you will find nirvana and the bliss it is. No wonder those who evaluate Buddhism from an ego perspective think of it as negative, for it requires the ego to relinquish its desires.
Bliss is also the final fulfillment of the Hindu tradition. That tradition says that there are four things we human beings want: First, we want pleasure and comfort — to have good food, drink, sex, entertainment, excitement, travel, and all the fine things of life. Second, we want to achieve things in the world and to be recognized for those achievements. Third, we want to be of service to other people; we want to feel like we are making a positive difference in the lives of those around us, as well as in the larger community of which we are a part.
Fourth, though, as we continue growing and learning, we gradually discover that these first three cannot bring true fulfillment. With that realization we begin to get a sense of what we really want, which is Sat, Chit, Ananda — Being, Consciousness, Bliss. If we become fully conscious, we know ourselves as beingness itself, and then our experience will be bliss, true joy.
Unlike some other traditions, Hinduism does not teach that there is anything wrong with wanting the first three things. In fact, wanting those things is completely natural to human life. Further, as long as you are strongly motivated by any of these three, you might as well try to achieve them, because if you don’t, that urge will persist and make further growth impossible. But Hinduism’s final message is that you will gradually discover that the first three “wants,” even when achieved, do not provide fulfillment.
The first, “pleasures,” tend to get old, even boring, so you must keep searching for greater and greater intensity to feel satisfaction. As this escalates, the need for ever-greater intensity leads to debauchery and then great dissatisfaction.
The second “want,” worldly achievement, leads to a rat race in which you have to keep competing, and no matter what you achieve it is never enough. Even more, you have to run faster and faster to stay ahead of younger competitors who are always entering the contest. Eventually, fear that you might lose what you have replaces the satisfactions you have about what you have already achieved.
The third want, a wish to help others, begins to take you outside your ego self because you begin to focus on other people and what they need. But much of the motivation to help others at this stage is centered around you: You wish to be of help and you have images about what you want to accomplish for others. Your ego is very much involved in this kind of “wanting” to be of service. Further, no matter how much you do to help others with their lives in the world, there will always be problems, needs, and disappointments. You will be dissatisfied that that more could not be achieved — because our lives in time can never be made perfect. Thus you will never feel the satisfaction of being finished, or even that you have done enough.
Again, the Hindu tradition says there is nothing wrong with these three “wants.” But if you begin to really pay attention you will discover that these three wants never lead to true fulfillment, satisfaction, or joy. And this is where the final level comes front and center. If you can develop an awareness beyond your individual ego and let go of ego concerns, you will become more and more conscious of the marvel of existence itself, of Being itself, and as you do, you will discover that life is increasingly filled with Ananda — Bliss.
Skeptico: That sounds like what I really want! How do I find it?
Wisdom Seeker: One simple step is to commit to choosing joy as often as you can, as much as you can, and offering it to others. This is one way to begin to free yourself from your ego perspective and to identify with something beyond your small self with its needs and desires. Perhaps you will even discover, as Helen Luke suggests, that by making an effort to choose joy and give it to others — no matter the difficulties in your life — deep and lasting joy will gradually permeate your deepest being.
In the Midst of Suffering
There are many, many images of those who have completely let go of identification with their ego lives in the midst of pain and suffering, those who were at peace and could bring humor and joy to others, even in the midst of their own difficulties. One of the doctors who attended Ramana Maharshi as he was dying from a metastasized cancer on his arm said that the tumor was the kind that normally causes intense pain. But the doctor wrote that Ramana was always in good spirits, making jokes about the tumor, and even using his illness and death as vehicles to teach his followers.
At the end, as Ramana’s energy became very weak and the doctors wanted him to conserve his strength, he instead had himself propped up by an open window so he could share with the thousands who had come to be in his presence one last time the peace he was feeling. A line was formed and they walked slowly by, one by one, very close to him. Many stopped briefly, and for hours, as his body faded away, he used his last energy to give each a final blessing with a look or a nod or a smile. Many who came reported being uplifted beyond measure.
In this way, Ramana provided one last stirring example of his message:
“Soul, mind, and ego are mere words. There are no true entities of the kind. Consciousness is the only truth. Forgetfulness of your real nature is the real death; remembrance of it is the true birth.”
In the Christian tradition there are many examples of those who were able to uplift others in the midst of their own suffering, such as St. Teresa of Ávila, St. Catherine of Siena, and Julian of Norwich. One of my favorites is St. Catherine of Genoa, who, during her last months, was in great physical agony. In spite of this, she continually manifested a spirit that was inspiring to those around her.
How could she do this? Although still inhabiting a physical body, she was not centered there; rather, her identity was at a higher level. From being centered in that higher place, she radiated from it a very powerful energy — and the people around her experienced that energy coming toward them. One writer tried to capture what was happening to those around her: “They beheld heaven in her soul, and purgatory in her agonized body.” How did she manage to raise her sense of identity to this higher level? Catherine’s own answer: “So clearly do I perceive thy goodness [that of the Divine presence] that I do not seem to walk by faith, but by a true and heartfelt experience.” She had let go of all identification with her ego self, as well as with her body, and was immersed in an experience of the highest dimension. From that place, she could uplift and inspire others, in spite of the suffering in her body.
Old age, sickness, and death are unavoidable barriers to the ambitions of the ego. Therefore, in many wisdom traditions, coming to terms with these is a central practice, especially coming to terms with death. Those who have achieved a high level of fulfillment are at peace with death, and can teach others from that place.
One of the best-known Zen teachers in the United States in the 20th century, Shunryu Suzuki, seems to have made his peace with death, as well as with suffering, for he called his students together toward the end of his life and said: “If I suffer, that is all right, you know; that is suffering Buddha. No confusion in it.” As for death itself, he said: “We die, and we do not die.” I take this to mean that there is a part of us, the body and the ego self, that dies, but that there is another part that does not die, the self the Buddha called “the deathless.”
Out of this spirit of peace with death comes the tradition of final poems — especially from Zen teachers, but also from other traditions. These are poems, sayings, or last words that are sometimes funny, sometimes uplifting, and always worth pondering. In a wonderful little book by Sushila Blackman entitled Graceful Exits: How Great Beings Die, there are many examples. One is given by the 14th century Zen monk Kozan Ichikyo:
Empty-handed we entered the world
Barefoot we leave it.
My coming, my going
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.
Several teachers in the Hindu tradition convey a similar message. When one of the most widely admired teachers in 19th century India, Ramakrishna Paramahansa, was approaching death, he spoke to his own ego mind, making clear that it was not who he really was: “O mind, do not worry about the body. Let the body and pain take care of each other. Think of the Holy Mother and be happy.”
A few weeks earlier he had given a demonstration of what this looks like. A doctor had come to examine his throat cancer, and when the doctor first touched the cancer Ramakrishna flinched with pain. The doctor offered to give him a shot to relieve the pain so he could continue the examination, but Ramakrishna said it was not necessary. He then took a moment and shifted his attention to a different dimension, and soon told the doctor to proceed with the examination. As the doctor then probed the painful spot, Ramakrishna showed no further sign of discomfort, though his body must have been generating the same pain signals as before.
Another modern example in the Hindu tradition is Sister Gyanamata, one of Paramahansa Yogananda’s most advanced disciples, who provides a wonderful image of what is possible as one approaches death. She had been sick for some time, but as death came very near, those around her reported that “her face was radiant with light.” As she spoke her final words a “big smile illumined her face,” and this is what she said: “What joy! What joy! Too much, too much joy!”
One more example, this from Tibetan Buddhism. Glenn Mullin spent many years studying and writing several books on various aspects of that tradition. In 1972 he went to Dharmsala, India, to study with the leading figures of the tradition (the Dalai Lama had established his home and a center there after fleeing Tibet). One of Mullin’s first teachers was a Rinpoche (a highly respected teacher) who had held several important posts but had retired to a quieter life and only accepted a few private students. (Mullin had been accepted as one of those fortunate students.)
Over the next several years, on several occasions Mullin asked the Rinpoche to give a formal instruction for a large group, but the answer was always, “One of these days.” After several years of this, the Rinpoche finally informed Mullin that he was ready to fulfill his promise and give a formal teaching. The day came, and the instruction began. Since there were a number of English-speaking students in attendance, the talk was being translated into English as it was being delivered, so the teacher would say a few lines, and then pause for the translation.
After a while, Mullin noticed that the Rinpoche “looked quite himself while speaking, even laughing and telling jokes, but during the translations, his face changed color and he would contract slightly, close his eyes, and recite the mantra with more vigor than usual.” Finally, during one pause, Mullin leaned over and quietly asked the Rinpoche if anything was wrong. He replied calmly, “I’m having a heart attack.”
Mullin, as most of us would, said: “Shouldn’t we stop the teaching immediately?” The teacher gave him a “deep and penetrating look,” and said: “As you wish.” Mullin stopped the presentation and the teacher went into a quiet room, for three days went deeper and deeper into a meditative state, and then died. Given the level of awareness the Rinpoche had reached (as reported in many stories during his final years), it seems he waited to give the public lecture that Mullin had requested until he was ready to die. And Mullin felt the Rinpoche had consciously and intentionally used his death to deliver a final teaching to him. The teaching was for the assembled group, yes, but the Rinpoche had shown no interest in or desire to do such a thing for years. So it seemed especially designed for the student who had continually asked him to give a formal teaching, Glenn Mullin. Mullin took from the experience a powerful lesson.
One crucial point all these stories point to: Do not wait until your physical death is upon you to step into the fullness of who you really all. A phrase used by many Sufis captures precisely the message conveyed at the deepest level of many traditions: “Die before you die.” Zen Master Bunan said: “Die while you’re alive and be absolutely dead. Then do whatever you want: It’s all good.” If you are able to die to the small self, the ego self, while in this life, the door will swing open to the place of true fulfillment, and you will be able to experience real joy. When this occurs, you will join Zen Master Wumen Huikai in his experience:
Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.
Shortly after his awakening, the Buddha spoke to his ego as if it were separate from who he was, calling it the “house builder.” And he declared his complete separation from it:
“House builder you have now been seen. You shall not build the house again. Your rafters have been broken down; your ridge-pole is demolished too. My mind has now attained the unformed nibbana (nirvana is another translation of the word he used) and reached the end of every kind of craving.”
The ego builds the small self with its concepts, stories, and opinions. If you can completely let go of all those, there is nothing left with which to build an ego self. Then there is no longer any fear of death, for there is no identification with that which dies. It is from this place — in which identity is solidified beyond the ego and fully identified with “something more” — that the Buddha, Jesus, and all those who reached this state have been able to uplift and inspire others, no matter what is going on in the world or in their own lives.
Ending identification with the ego is the prerequisite for being able to radiate joy to others at all times, no matter the circumstances in one’s life or in the world. It was from this place that Socrates could reassure his distraught students — and give some of his most profound teachings — as he peacefully prepared to drink the hemlock that would end his life. It was from this place that Jesus could turn his attention from the cross and from the pain the nails were bringing him and focus on his mother’s needs, and even give reassurance to a criminal being crucified beside him. And it was from this place that the Buddha could give powerful teachings as he lay dying, even send a comforting message to the person who had unintentionally poisoned him.
Thought Experiment — Try to put yourself in their place
Take a few moments and try to imagine yourself in the frame of mind of Socrates, the Buddha, and Jesus as they died. Focus on what you know about each, one by one, and the following words and images (or choose just the one that speaks most powerfully to you).
The Buddha: A householder named Cunda wanted very much for the Buddha to eat with him, so the Buddha agreed. Unfortunately, one part of the meal turned out to be food that inadvertently poisoned the Buddha. As he was dying, he asked his disciples to convey to Cunda: “That is your merit, Cunda, that is your good deed, that the Tathagata [the Buddha] gained final nirvana after taking his last meal from you!” He went on to say that having served that last meal would benefit Cunda, would be for him, “conducive to long life, to good looks, to happiness, to fame, to heaven and to lordship.” Thus the Buddha, though dying from eating the meal given to him by Cunda, was focused on the feelings of Cunda, and wanted to dispel any sense of blame he might feel.
Jesus: He was being intentionally killed, in a very painful way. The story even makes vivid the callousness of some of those who were executing him. Yet he looked out at his intentional executioners and said, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”
Socrates: He had been condemned to death for a crime he did not believe he had committed. Importantly, he could have avoided death by taking back his teachings or fleeing prison (the opportunity to do so was offered to him). But he was completely at peace, felt it important to stand by his truth, and so peacefully drank the hemlock, talking to and teaching his students as he died.
Try to imagine being in a frame of mind that, as you are dying, you are fully at peace and your focus can turn to concern for the those around you, and even to concern for those who had sought your death.
Very few of us will be able to reside continuously in the place beyond all ego images, stories, and concerns exemplified by Jesus, Socrates, and the Buddha. But each of us can set an intention to move toward that place as best we can. We can undertake practices to do so. And we can choose joy as often as we possibly can.
May you be blessed.
May you find fulfillment and meaning.
May this bring you much peace and joy.
David