Considering the Sufferings of Samsara

At Varanasi, on the occasion of the first turning of the wheel of Dharma, Buddha, saying, “O monks, this is the noble truth of suffering,” taught his five worthy disciples first the truth of suffering. This was to convince them to make up their minds to renounce and be free of suffering altogether. One cannot convince a person to avoid things that cause their suffering to arise until they have first made up their mind to stop suffering. This, then, is why Buddha has taught the truth of suffering as the first of the four noble truths. In this way, he was teaching according to the sequence of the usual stages of insight that people most commonly experience in the successful process of taming their minds.

Tsongkhapa has said in The Abbreviated Points of the Graded Path (Lam-rim bsdus-don), 13:

Since, without having striven to ponder true problems and their drawbacks, I won’t properly gain keen interest in liberation (from them), and without having considered the stages whereby (true) origins of suffering draw me into recurring samsara, I won’t know the means for cutting the root of this (vicious) circle, let me devote myself to becoming determined to be free from compulsive existence and to developing disgust, and relish knowing which factors have bound me to this wheel.

The ennobling, impeccable Lama has practiced like that. Let me, too, who strives for liberation, cultivate myself in the same way.

Maitreya has similarly said in the Furthest Everlasting Continuum (rGyud bla-ma, Skt. Uttaratantra), III.55:

Just as you must recognize and know a sickness, avoid its cause, and, to achieve a state of good health, devote yourself to the medicine, so too in terms of suffering, its cause, its stopping, and likewise the path, you must recognize, avoid, contact, and devote yourself (in turn).

The actual meditation on suffering has two sections:

1. Thinking about the suffering of samsara in general
2. Thinking in conclusion about the suffering of the individual rebirth states.

This has six sections: 

1. The shortcoming of having no certainty
2. The shortcoming of having no satisfaction
3. The shortcoming of having to forsake our bodies repeatedly
4. The shortcoming of having to fit into new rebirths repeatedly
5. The shortcoming of having to change status repeatedly from exalted to humble
6. The shortcoming of having no friends.

[1] The Shortcoming of Having No Certainty

There is never any certainty as to who will be reborn as our enemy and who our friend, who in an exalted position and who in a lowly one.

In A Play about Shariputra (Sha-ri’i bus gsung thor-bu, Skt. Śāriputra-Prakaraṇa), Ashvaghosha has told the story of a man who lived in a house by the side of a pond. His father was always fond of catching and eating fish from it, and when he died was reborn, because of this, as a fish in the same pond. His mother was extremely attached to their home, and when she died, she became a dog in the same house. His wife was once raped by an enemy whom the man then killed. However, because of his attraction to this man’s wife, the rapist was then reborn as their child. 

One day, the man caught and ate the fish that had been his father. When the dog that had been his mother tried to eat the bones of the fish that had been her husband, the man beat the dog and then cuddled the son who had been the rapist of his wife. Shariputra, coming by and seeing all this, said, “Someone eating the flesh of his father, beating his mother and fondling on his lap the enemy who he had murdered, and a wife gnawing at the bones of her husband – how the turning of uncontrollably recurring existence makes me laugh.”

Nagarjuna has said in A Letter to a Friend (bShes-pa’i springs-yig, Skt. Suhṛllekha), 66:

Since a father (can be reborn) with the status of a son; a mother, with the status of a wife; those who had been enemies, with the status of friends; and the reverse situation can occur (as well), because of that, there’s no certainty at all in samsaric states.

[2] The Shortcoming of Having No Satisfaction

Moths are attracted to light, elephants to touch, flies to smell, wild animals to sound and human beings to money. And not one of them is ever satisfied, content or feels he has had enough of what he finds so alluring. All worldly desires are like drinking salt water: no matter how much we drink, our thirst is never quenched.

Once there was a rich man who had a fabulous gem and who said that he would give it to the poorest man in India. Everyone was very anxious to know who would receive it, and when he presented it to the king, everyone was very surprised. Asked why he had given the gem to the king who was surely the wealthiest man on this plane of existence, the rich man answered, “The king is actually the poorest man in all of India because his desire is the greatest. A person who is satisfied and knows enough is enough – he is truly a rich man.”

In The Extensive Play Sutra (mDo rgya-cher rol-pa, Skt. Lalitavistara Sūtra), XVI.23, it says:

O King, if whatever desires the divine beings have and whatever good wishes men pursue were all to be fulfilled for one human being, that would still not be enough (to satisfy him). He would look for even more.

As Milarepa said:

For a woman, first a man appears nice, then eventually he beats her and leaves her with many children. A man says, “I don’t need children. When they are babies, they snatch away what you are eating, when grown up, they snatch away power over your household, and finally, when you are old, they throw you out of your own home. I also don’t need a wife. Initially, she is all smiles, but that doesn’t last long. Once we become more familiar, when I smile, she has a sour face; and in the end the time will come when we can’t bear each other’s sight.

[3] The Shortcoming of Having to Forsake Our Bodies Repeatedly

Nagarjuna has said in A Letter to a Friend, 74:

Having attained the extremely great pleasures of the desirable sense objects of the celestial realms, and the pleasures of the state of a Brahma, which are free of attachment, you’ll have to entrust yourself, once again, to an unbroken continuum of sufferings from having become the fuel of the flames of (a joyless realm of) unrelenting pain.

[4] The Shortcoming of Having to Fit into New Rebirths Repeatedly

Nagarjuna has said in A Letter to a Friend, 68:

For each (being), the pile of their own bones would have been an amount equal to Mount Meru or would have surpassed (it). And, with pellets merely the size of the stone of a juniper berry, there’s not enough earth, in fact, for counting (how many times each being has been each member of each one’s) maternal lines.

In the Nirvana Sutra (Myang-’das-kyi mdo, Skt. Nirvāṇa Sūtra) it has been said:

There is not as much water in the oceans as the amount of boiling molten copper you have drunk in your repeated rebirths in the joyless realms.

[5] The Shortcoming of Having to Change Status Repeatedly from Exalted to Humble

As the Buddha has said in one of his Rules of Discipline Scriptural Texts (’Dul-ba’i lung, Skt. Vinayāgama):

The final end of any collection is dispersion, of being high is falling low and of meeting is departure. The final end of being alive is death.

[See also: “Special Verses Grouped by Topic” (Ched-du brjod-pa’i tshoms, Skt. Udānavarga, “The Tibetan Dhammapada”), I.20, and the “Great Sutra on the Close Placement of Mindfulness” (mDo dran-pa nyer-bzhag chen-po, Skt. Mahā-smṛty-upasthāna Sūtra), 175 and 186.]

Nagarjuna has said in A Letter to a Friend, 69:

Having become an Indra, fit to be honored by the world, you fall back again upon the earth through the power of karma. Even having changed to the status of a Universal Chakravartin King, you transform into someone with the rank of a servant in samsaric states.

[6] The Shortcoming of Having No Friends

Shantideva has said in Engaging in Bodhisattva Behavior (sPyod-’jug, Skt. Bodhisattvacaryāvatāra), VIII.32:

A man is born alone, when taking birth, and dies alone too, when undergoing death. As no one else can take a share of this pain, what can be done by encumbering friends?

Milarepa also emphasized the dangers of having too many irreligious friends, who are merely further causes for attachment. Discouragement from them and from relatives can be a great hindrance and a difficult obstacle to overcome for pure practice of Dharma. Also, if we have too many acquaintances and casual friends, they may unwittingly cause us harm by knowing only a little about us and spreading misleading stories. Actually, our enemies can sometimes be our best friends, because the harm they cause us gives us subject matter for thought and meditation helpful for bringing us insights into the true nature of suffering, uncontrollably recurring rebirth and renunciation.

This has two sections:

1. Thinking about the suffering of the three worse rebirth states
2. Thinking about the suffering of the three better rebirth states.

[1] Thinking about the Suffering of the Three Worse Rebirth States

This has already been outlined in chapter eight and will not be repeated here. When doing lam-rim meditation, however, we should think once more at this point about the suffering of trapped beings of the joyless realms, hungry ghosts and animals.

[2] Thinking about the Suffering of the Three Better Rebirth States

Consider, for instance, a criminal who is to be executed in one month’s time and each day up until then is to be severely flogged. Suppose someone commutes his sentence so that he is not to be flogged, yet he is still to be executed at the end of the month. Although he is free from the suffering of the whip, still he is filled with ever-increasing terror as each day draws him closer to his end. Likewise, although in the better rebirth states we may be temporarily free from gross suffering, still each day draws us closer to death and a fall into a worse rebirth state. Thus, unless we completely eradicate all suffering, we should not rest safe in a seemingly soft and comfortable situation. [As cited by the First Panchen Lama in “A Blissful Path” (Lam-rim bde-lam), 9a3–5.]

Our attraction to the pleasures of the better rebirth states is like an alcoholic’s attraction to drink – he thinks it is pleasure, but it only brings him more suffering and makes him sicker [as cited by Pabongka in “Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand” (rNam-grol lag-bcangs), 256a4].

Sakya Pandita has said:

Attachment to worldly pleasures is like an old toothless dog trying to eat a bone. He tries to bite it, his gums start bleeding, and he feels the blood he is tasting is the bone, and so he bites more.

Once, the greatly accomplished tantric practitioner Ghantapada was asked by King Devapala the Great (r. 810–850) to give up his penniless existence and come teach in the palace. He scolded the king saying, “No matter how hungry an elephant is, it won’t be attracted to a lone blade of grass. Likewise, I’m not in the least bit attracted to all your wealth and luxuries.”

Further, there are three sections:

1. Thinking about the suffering of human beings
2. Thinking about the suffering of the would-be divine
3. Thinking about the suffering of the divine beings.

Here are seven sections according to the revealing discourse tradition of the Second Panchen Lama’s A Speedy Path (Lam-rim myur-lam), while in the tradition of Tsongkhapa’s Grand Presentation of the Graded Stages of the Path (Lam-rim chem-mo) the eighth of the following sections is added:

1. The suffering of birth (skye-ba’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. jāti-duḥkham)
2. The suffering of old age (rga-ba’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. jarā-duḥkham)
3. The suffering of sickness (na-ba’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. vyādhi-duḥkham)
4. The suffering of death (’chi-ba’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. maraṇa-duḥkham)
5. The suffering of being parted from what we like (sdug-pa-dang bral-ba’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. priya-viprayoga-duḥkham)
6. The suffering of meeting with what we do not like (mi-sdug-pa-dang ’phrad-pa’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. apriya-saṃprāyoga-duḥkham)
7. The suffering of not obtaining the things we like even though we try to find them (’dod-pa’i dngos-po btsal-kyang mi-rnyed-pa’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. yad apicchaya paryeṣamāṇo na labhate tadapi duḥkham)
8. Thinking about our tainted aggregates, received according (to our past karma and disturbing emotions), as being of the functional nature of suffering (zag-bcas nyer-len-gyi phung-po’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. saṃkṣepeṇa pañca-upādāna-skandha-duḥkham).

[1] The Suffering of Birth

According to the Guhyasamaja Tantra tradition, after we die we go through the bardo or in-between rebirth period. After this, if we are to be reborn as a human being, the stream of our consciousness enters our future father’s mouth at the moment of our conception, directed by the seeds of the throwing and completing karma deposited on it by our previously committed actions. It then passes into his sexual organ, and joined with his sperm, enters our future mother’s womb to unite with her egg.

The suffering that our consciousness experiences at the moment of our conception is as if we were being boiled in water. When in the womb, we suffer as if we were shut in a small box filled with vile, smelly waste liquids, having no fresh air and no light. By imagining how upset we would be if we were locked in a public latrine for a day, we can gain an appreciation of the suffering of being trapped in a womb. We should not entertain romantic fantasies of an idyllic return.

When our limbs were formed as a fetus, it feels as if someone were pulling them out from our bodies. When our mother eats or drinks anything either too hot or too cold, we suffer accordingly. When she moves suddenly, it feels as if we were falling off a cliff.

Finally, when nine months and ten days have passed, and it is time for us to come out of the womb, it feels as if we were being pulled between two pieces of wet leather rope. The reason why we cry as soon as we are born is because of all our prenatal suffering to this extent. Although later we forget all this discomfort, while we were in our mother’s womb we were very conscious of it. It is because of the contaminations of the womb that the stream of our consciousness is caused to forget all it knew of in our previous lives. From this is derived the significance of Shakyamuni Buddha having been born from his mother’s right side and so avoiding any disturbing emotions and loss of memory from having been confined inside a mother’s womb.

Chandragomin has said in the Letter to a Disciple (Slob-springs, Skt. Śiṣyalekha):

(In taking a birth,) you must endure great suffering. You are forced to remain cramped and confined inside a hell-like womb – a stuffy, dark, narrow space where you are oppressed by never ceasing foul odors. Then once born you have forgotten everything you ever knew. You are totally helpless and completely dependent on others. You cannot express what you want, constantly soil yourself, and have to learn how to sit, crawl, walk, talk, feed yourself, and so on. You should vividly imagine what it is like to be an infant, and you will realize how awful it really is.

[For further description of the suffering of birth, see the Vastusamgraha chapter of Asanga’s “Stages of Yoga Conduct” (rNal-’byor spyod-pa’i sa, Skt. Yogācāryabhūmi)]

[2] The Suffering of Old Age

In the Extensive Play Sutra, XIII.85, it has been said:

Old age changes a beautiful body into an ugly one. It plunders youthful vigor, physical strength and innocent happiness and causes you to be ignored. Old age brings death and pillages youth.

As Milarepa has said in one of his Hundreds of Thousands of Songs:

The way (old people) stand up is like pulling a peg out of the ground, the way they walk is like sneaking up on a bird, and the way they sit down is like dropping a bag of earth. When the time arrives in which all these three strike you at once, oh grandma, I feel sorry for such a decrepit body of conjured illusion.

Outside, wrinkles form in the skin; within, there are gnarled bones devoid of flesh and blood; while in between there are limping, senility, blindness, deafness, and slowness of mind. When the time arrives in which all these three strike you at once, oh grandma, you look as ugly as the wrinkled wrathful deities. 

The following passage is from the Collected Works of Gungthang (Gung-thang gsung-’bum):

The leaves of my hair, which are as white as a conch-shell, are not a sign of my being rid of the stain of murky defilements. Rather, they are a sign of the saliva-arrow of Yama, the Lord of Death, having landed with a coating of hoarfrost.

The quivering wrinkles at the peak of my brow are not the suckling folds on a plump baby’s face. Rather, they are the counters of the many years I have lived eating away my lifespan, and they are drawn by the messengers of time.

The falling out of my rosary teeth is not due to having exchanged my milk teeth. Rather, it is because I have consumed my full share of food for this lifetime, and my weapons for eating have been taken back.

If a 30-year-old went to sleep and woke up looking 80, he couldn’t stand seeing himself. Geshe Kamawa has said:

We should be grateful that old age comes slowly. If it came all at once it would be unbearable.

[As cited by Pabongka in “Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand,” 257.b5–6.]

[3] The Suffering of Sickness

When we fall sick, we must suffer many unpleasant things, such as bad-tasting medicine, injections and the sharp instruments of surgery. We lose interest in what we usually like, and we may be prevented from practicing the Dharma to the fullest extent.

It is said in The Extensive Play Sutra, XIII.87:

For example, in the last part of winter when there is much wind and snow, the glory of the blades of grass, trees, forests and herbs is stolen away. In this same way, sickness robs limited beings of their youthful glory and weakens their senses, body and physical strength.

[4] The Suffering of Death

It is said in The Extensive Play Sutra, XIII.89:

When the time comes for you to die and leave this body, you are forever parted from the people who are pleasing to you and whom you love. (Once you die) you never return (as the same person) and you never meet them again (in their same form). It is like leaves and blossoms falling from the trees and the flowing of streams: (they are continually regenerated, but never by the same leaves or water).

The Fourth Panchen Lama has said in Liberation in the Bardo (Bar-do ’phreng-sgrol):

When there is no longer any turning back from death by the power of saying prayers for the sick and when all hope from doctors is given up, when the string of my relatives’ hope for my life breaks, and I do not know where to turn – bestow on me waves of inspiring strength to be mindful of my guru’s guideline instructions.

The actual process of dying is explained as follows:

The body of any limited being on the plane of sensory desires or on the plane of ethereal forms is made up of the four elements [as cited by Vasubandhu in “A Treasure House of Special Topics of Knowledge” (Chos mngon-pa’i mdzod, Skt. Abhidharmakośa), I.13]: 

• Earth (sa, Skt. pṛthivī)
• Water (chu, Skt. ap)
• Fire (me, Skt. tejas)
• Energy-wind (rlung, Skt. prāṇa). 

In other words, the body consists of solid, liquid, heat and energy-gaseous components. Consciousness (rnam-shes, Skt. vijñāna) relies upon all of them as its basis.

Tibetan medicine, as taught at such medical colleges as Chagpori (lCag-po ri, The Iron Hill) near Lhasa, is based on the Amrta-hrdaya-astanga-guhyopadesha Tantra and the Ayurvedic theory (tshe’i rig-byed) brought from India that any sickness of the body, whether physical or mental, is caused by a disturbance of the normal balance of these four bodily components as well as of the three humors (nyes-pa gsum, Skt. tri-doṣa) of the various “winds” (rlung, Skt. vāyu), “biles” (mkhris-pa, Skt. pitta) and “phlegms” (bad-kan, Skt. kapha). While a person is alive and healthy, these components function together in harmony. Any cure, then, is designed to restore the delicate balance of their functioning. It is based on a diagnosis made by carefully reading with several fingers the pulse on both wrists for imbalances and irregularities, as well as by analyzing the urine and its froth, examining the body and asking about symptoms. 

At the time of death, however, the four bodily components dissolve progressively into each other. To say that one of them dissolves does not mean that it becomes one with the remaining components. Rather, it means that its normal functioning is no longer working, and consciousness can no longer rely upon it as its basis. The functioning of the remaining undissolved components then predominates. The suffering that our consciousness experiences during this dissolution process is called the disturbances at the time of death (’chi-kha’i gnod-byed). It is to lessen this suffering that lamas and monks are called upon to say various prayers at our deathbeds.

First in the dissolution process of death, the solid component of “earth” dissolves into the liquid component of “water.” Normally, the function of the solid component is to hold our bodies firmly together and help with growth. The external physical signs that this has ceased are that before death our bodies shrink and bile appears on our teeth. The internal mental signs differ according to whether we have committed predominantly destructive or constructive actions during our lifetime. If the majority have been destructive, we will feel as if we were being crushed by a mountain or a giant; if constructive, however, we will feel as if white dust were rising all about us. 

Then the liquid component of “water” dissolves into the heat component of “fire.” Normally its function is to form our blood and the various liquid secretions of our bodies. The external physical signs that this has ceased are that as we die our mouths dry out, our lips crack and we can no longer swallow water. The internal mental sign, if the majority of our actions have been destructive, is that we feel as if we were drowning in the ocean or in a deep well; if constructive, however, we will have a vision of flowing rivers and streams.

Next the heat component of “fire” dissolves into energy-gaseous component of “energy-wind.” Normally its function is to generate heat in our bodies for warmth and digestion. As it dissolves into the energy-gaseous component, the heat of our bodies contracts from our head and feet to our heart, the seat of the consciousness, forming a vacuum pocket around it. 

According to Tsongkhapa, if the heat component starts to contract from our head down to our heart before it does from our feet up to our heart, this is a sign that we will be reborn in one of the three worse rebirth states. If, however, it starts from our feet first, this is a sign that we will be reborn in one of the three fortunate ones.

The external physical sign that the functioning of the heat component has ceased is that our bodies become cold. The internal mental sign, if the majority of our actions have been destructive, is that we will feel as if we were being burned alive; if constructive, however, we will have a vision of a flash of light in the darkness. 

Next the energy-gaseous component of “energy-wind” dissolves into the consciousness at the heart. There are five principle energy-winds in the body (rtsa-ba’i rlung-lnga): 

• Life-sustaining energy (srog-’dzin-gyi rlung, Skt. prāṇa-vāyu), located at the heart, maintains the breath of life and has two forms, gross (srog-’dzin rags-pa) and subtle (srog-’dzin phra-mo). 
• Downward-going energy (thur-sel-gyi rlung, Skt. apāna-vāyu), located near the sexual organs, controls the lower sphincter muscles, holding and discharging waste products. 
• Equalizing energy (mnyam-gnas-kyi rlung, Skt. samāna-vāyu), located at the navel, controls the digestive process of assimilation of nutrition and separation of waste materials. 
• Upward-going energy (gyen-rgyu’i rlung, Skt. udāna-vāyu), located at the throat, controls swallowing, speaking and breathing. 
• All-pervading energy (khyab-byed-kyi rlung, Skt. vyāna-vāyu), located throughout the body, controls all motor activity.

The external physical sign that the functioning of the gross life-sustaining energy and the other four types of energy-wind have ceased is that we stop breathing. The inward mental sign, if the majority of our actions have been destructive, is that we will have the feeling of being carried away in the wind like a feather; if constructive, however, of being in a gentle breeze.

Many people commonly believe that death occurs when breathing ceases, which is merely the external sign that the energy-gaseous component of the body is no longer functioning. From the meditation experience of many highly realized lamas, however, death occurs not when we stop breathing, but only when our subtlest mind together with our subtle life-sustaining energy leaves our bodies for the bardo and future rebirth. This may be at any time up to one week or more after breathing has ceased.

During this period, consciousness can be focused and fixed at our heart by the following three actions: 

1. White bodhichitta (byang-sems dkar-po), the essence of semen or male hormone, originally received from our father, falls from our head to our heart, accompanied by the appearance of whiteness (snang-ba dkar-lam-pa). 
2. Red bodhichitta (byang-sems dmar-po), the essence of blood or female hormone, received from our mother, rises from our lower abdomen to our heart, experienced as the spreading of redness (mched-pa dmar-lam-pa). 
3. The two bodhichittas meet at our heart, experienced as the appearance of darkness (nyer-thob snang lam-pa, black near-attainment). This third process is descriptively called closing the amulet box (ga’u kha-sbyor).

Once the energy-gaseous component of our bodies has dissolved, our consciousness can then be held surrounded by the red and white bodhichittas in the vacuum pocket at our heart formed when the heat component has dissolved into the energy-gaseous one. Our consciousness can be held there for up to a week or more. During this period, highly realized lamas and accomplished practitioners of tantra perform death-juncture meditation (thun-sgom, Skt. yama-bhāvanā) on voidness, holding their consciousness focused and fixed in their heart until this meditation is completed. They then send their consciousness out through the top of their head (’pho-ba, Skt. cyuti, transference of mind) to the bardo regions before their next rebirth.

The external physical signs that the consciousness has left the body are that white bodhichitta falls in the form of semen from the right nostril or the sexual organ, red bodhichitta in the form of blood from the left nostril, and the head bends down at the completion of the death-juncture meditation if it has been practiced. Depending on the position in which the consciousness was held between the two bodhichittas at the heart, the exact place and form of the falling of the red and white bodhichittas vary.

If we cremate a person’s body after they have stopped breathing, but before their consciousness has departed, the negative karmic consequences are the same as for killing. For this reason, lamas perform the body-leaving rite at death for those who do not practice death-juncture meditation and who thus have no control over their consciousness at the time of death. This rite causes the consciousness to leave the body for one of the three fortunate rebirth states and ensures that it does so through the top of the head, rather than through one of the nine body orifices.

As death-juncture meditation and the body-leaving rite are still practiced by the highly realized lamas among the Tibetan refugees in India, many people have witnessed the fact that death does not occur when the breathing has stopped. There are many examples of highly realized lamas whose bodies have not decayed in the Indian sun for more than one week after they stopped breathing. However, as soon as the external physical signs appeared that their consciousness had left their bodies at the completion of their death-juncture meditation, their bodies began at once to decay. One such widely witnessed example of this phenomenon was the case of Para Rinpoche (Pha-ra Rin-po-che) of Ganden Jangtse Monastery, when he died in 1963 at Buxaduar Refugee Camp, West Bengal, India. 

[5] The Suffering of Being Parted from What We Like

When we see a child howling when their sandcastle collapses, we should not think that we are so different. Most people, if they must spend a festive occasion alone, cannot cope with being parted from their loved ones. However, when we experience depression from such deprivations, as well as from losing our wealth, possessions, power, position, friends and so forth, we should not think that these are coming to just us alone as some sadistic punishment. On the contrary, they are a sign of what everyone in samsara naturally experiences sooner or later, as taught in the first noble truth of suffering.

[6] The Suffering of Meeting with What We Do Not Like

In this life, despite our wishes, we sometimes encounter thieves, become involved with the law or receive state punishments. We might even go insane, contract a chronic disease or be injured in an accident. We can be beaten by hoodlums or be struck with physical or emotional problems. Even if we are a masochist and wish to be hurt, often others will treat us kindly. Thus, regardless of our preferences, we suffer endlessly from such frustration.

In his Collected Works (Po-to-ba’i gsung-’bum), Geshe Potowa has said:

The sufferings, such as from sickness and death that you experience as long as you are born into one of the six rebirth states (are not surprising). You become sick and you die, in each case from an appropriate cause. Such things do not come suddenly and undeservedly. They are the functional nature (rang-bzhin, Skt. svabhāva) or defining characteristic mark (mtshan-nyid, definition) of samsara, and as long as you remain there, you cannot escape from them. If you would renounce and be rid of these sufferings, you must abandon such rebirth, and to do this, you must abandon its causes.

Therefore, if we wish not to experience the sufferings of uncontrollably recurring rebirth, we must practice the means for attaining liberation. 

[7] The Suffering of Not Obtaining the Things We Like Even Though We Try to Find Them

This is the suffering that comes especially from having to ignore and endure the hardships of such things as hunger and thirst, heat and cold and so forth that we may encounter while trying to make a livelihood. For example, in making a request to a high official, we may initially have great mental anguish worrying whether or not they will grant it and in the process have much difficulty and nervousness. If in the end we are refused, our suffering is even greater than before. To sum up, even when farmers plough the land, they suffer from worry about whether or not it will yield a crop.

When traders wander to distant lands, they have to endure leaving behind their loved ones. They must set up their lives as targets for misfortune. During their travels, they do not dare relax or sleep carefree at night without keeping watch for danger. They must pass through such perilous hazards as high mountain passes, plains, water and treacherous paths. Then in the end, even though they may arrive safely and transact their business, they still suffer from worrying about and possibly losing all their capital, let alone not making any profit.

In brief, then, the wealthy are tortured with worries, while the poor must bear physical hardships. Until we abandon samsara, we will have to experience these problems endlessly.

Aryadeva has said in Four Hundred Verse Treatise (bZhi-brgya-pa, Skt. Catuḥśataka), II.8: 

A spiritual mentor who wishes to benefit a disciple needs to show deference to his (inclinations and needs). Because he knows not (how) to benefit himself, (a disciple) is called “one who is to be taught.” 

The Seventh Dalai Lama has said in one of his Songs (rGyal-mchog bdun-pa’i gsung-mgur):

Whomsoever I look at, be they exalted or humble, lay or ordained, male or female, except for the differences of their customs, appearance and the amount of their pretense, they are all the same. Because they must all pass their human lives with a great deal of suffering, I feel sad at this manner of appearance of my friends who all have the equal opportunity (to become liberated from their suffering, having attained a human form).

[8] Thinking about Our Tainted Aggregates, Received According to Our Past Karma and Disturbing Emotions, as Being of the Functional Nature of Suffering

The above seven types of human suffering may be summarized as the three types of suffering (sdug-bsngal gsum):

• (A) The suffering of suffering
• (B) The suffering of change
• (C) All-pervasive suffering.

[A] The suffering of suffering (sdug-bsngal-gyi sdug-bsngal, Skt. duḥkha-duḥkhatā) is what we experience from pain, sickness, death and rebirth in one of the three worse rebirth states. 

[B] The suffering of change (’gyur-ba’i sdug-bsngal, Skt. vipariṇāma-duḥkhatā) is due to the frustration and dissatisfaction we experience when seeking the ephemeral pleasures of samsara motivated by the disturbing emotions of desire, hostility or closed-mindedness. These short-lived pleasures and temporary escapes from what we find displeasing can never fully satisfy our desire or bring us security and relief from our fear and anger. Shutting ourselves off from what we do not want to deal with also does not eliminate our problems. As circumstances are always changing, and we are always encountering new situations arousing our desire, fear, anger and closed-mindedness, we are continually plagued by the suffering of change.

Aryadeva has said in Four Hundred Verse Treatise, I.21:

Just as some people become happy when they vomit (if it’s) into a golden pot, likewise, think of your happiness as (petty) relief from suffering.

Considering this, we should realistically face suffering and become determined to be free of it and not to let ourselves become distracted by the so-called “good things in life.”

When it says that an example of the suffering of change is samsaric happiness, this is not saying that happiness equals suffering according to the strict definition, since the two are mutually exclusive. The meaning here is just linguistic or literal, and it is being used as a teaching tool to help cultivate renunciation. Thus, strictly speaking, it is not correct to say that happiness is just the reduction of suffering. Just as there is no set size for a human – both giants and midgets are human – likewise, both large and small happiness is happiness.

[C] All-pervasive suffering (khyab-pa ’du-byed-kyi sdug-bsngal, Skt. saṃskāra-duḥkhatā) is more subtle and extensive than the other two more obvious forms. It is inherent in the functional nature and instinctive behavior of the aggregate factors of experience with which we are born. Like a magnet, our bodies, mind and so forth attract sickness, old age, psychological and emotional problems and eventually death. 

The pain of a headache is an example of the obvious suffering of suffering. If we take aspirin, we may receive temporary relief, but when the aspirin wears off, our headache may easily return. This is the obvious suffering of change. The fact that we were born with a head that is susceptible to headaches and attracts them like a magnet, however, is the more subtle all-pervasive suffering. All limited beings from the lowest of the joyless realms to the highest of the divine-being realms are subject to this all-pervasive form of suffering. Therefore, true renunciation of uncontrollably recurring rebirth is renunciation of the all-pervasive suffering – the wish to be liberated from rebirth in samsara altogether.

The would-be divine (anti-gods, the asuras) live on the banks of the rivers surrounding the base of Mount Meru at the center of the universe. They live in four cities, ruled by the king Rahula. Their lifespan, however, is not specifically mentioned in the abhidharma literature.

Although as a would-be divine we are materially more comfortable than humans, we must experience all the sufferings that people do. In addition, because we are obsessed with jealousy toward the divine beings, we are always waging war with them and suffering accordingly. In these wars, the only way we can slay the divine beings is by cutting off their heads. Our opponents, on the other hand, can slay us in any number of ways. Moreover, the divine beings are always raiding the cities of the would-be divine and carrying away the young women. The wives and children of the would-be divine who stay behind from these wars experience the additional suffering of being able to see in the “all visible lake” (kun-mthong-gi mtsho) battles as they occur and who dies in them.

We are born as a would-be divine from having offered appropriate prayers, observed the rules of ethical self-discipline and done constructive actions all with medium effort and without full understanding of voidness. Doing these with the greatest amount of effort causes us to be reborn as a divine being and with minimal effort as a human, in accordance with our prayers. Thus, although of the three fortunate rebirth states, the human one has the least pleasure and the most suffering, these are in precisely the right amount. They are neither too much nor too little and can thus motivate us to renounce the pleasures and sorrows of uncontrollably recurring rebirth and work to attain liberation. Therefore, do not be seduced by the life of a would-be divine, thinking it is nothing but material joy.

Nagarjuna has said in A Letter to a Friend, 102:

The would-be divine also have great mental suffering because of hostility, by nature, toward the glory of the celestial ones. Although having intelligence, they cannot see the truth because of obscurations of (their) rebirth state.

[For further descriptions of the would-be divine, see the “Great Sutra on the Close Placement of Mindfulness”]

In all, there are twenty-seven classes of divine beings living on the three planes of samsaric existence. On the plane of sensory desires, in which consciousness is preoccupied with desire for objects of the senses and mind, live the first six classes, known as the divine beings on the plane of sensory desires (’dod-lha, Skt. kāma-deva, god of the desire realm). On the plane of ethereal forms, where consciousness possessing a subtle form is preoccupied with meditations, live the next seventeen classes. The four highest ones live on the plane of formless beings, where consciousness not having any gross form is preoccupied with deep meditations.

Mount Meru at the center of the universe has four levels (bang-rim, Skt. pariṣaṇḍa), the first three of which are inhabited by lower guards. On the first level, live the bucket-bearing guards (gnod-sbyin lag-na gzhong-thogs, Skt. karoṭapāṇi), who use golden bowls to prevent the waters in the surrounding rivers of the would-be divine territory from flooding Mount Meru. On the second, live the rosary-bearing guards (’phreng-thogs, Skt. mālā-dhāra) and on the third the intoxicated guards (rtag-myos, Skt. sadā-māda) who are always exuberantly drunk. On the fourth level, live the first class of the divine beings on the plane of sensory desires, the celestial kings of the four directions (rgyal-chen ri-bzhi, Skt. cātur-mahārāja-kāyika). Around revolve the sun, moon, stars and the nine planets (gza’-dgu, Skt. nava-graha), housing the limited beings called by these names. It is because these bodies each house a limited being with a lifespan that heavenly bodies are “born” and “die.”

The celestial kings of the four directions are:

• Guard of the Land and Surroundings (Yul-’khor sring, Skt. Dhrtarāṣṭra) in the East
• Noble Male (’Phags skyes-po, Skt. Virūḍhaka) in the South
• Unwholesome Eyes (sPyan mi-bzang, Skt. Virūpākṣa) in the West
• Offspring Listening to Aspects (rNam-thos sras, Skt. Vaiśravaṇa) in the North.

These four are also referred to as harm-doers (gnod-sbyin, Skt. yakṣa), although this term usually refers to harm-doing cannibals or cannibal-spirits. They are so called because each of them causes harm through one of their senses to either those who cause interferences to sincere spiritual practitioners or to those practitioners themselves who are insincere in their practice. Guard of the Land and Surroundings wears a hat covering his ears, has a beard and plays a lute. He has poison in his ears and causes harm through it when he hears of misdeeds. Noble Male holds a sword, horizontally before him, coming out of its sheath. He causes harm by the power of his poisonous touch. Unwholesome Eyes holds a stupa in his hands before him and stares at it. He causes harm to interferers by the power of his poisonous glare. Offspring Listening to Aspects has his mouth shut tight and holds a banner in his right hand and a mongoose in his left. His poisonous breath is his means of causing harm.

On the summit of Mount Meru is the Heaven of the Thirty-three Gods of the pan-Indian pantheon, with Indra at their head. They are the second class of divine beings with desire. It is these first two classes of divine beings on the plane of sensory desires with whom the would-be divine wage war. In order to be angry enough to fight back against the jealous would-be divine, they go to the Garden of Agitation (rTsub-’gyur-gyi tshal, Skt. Pāruṣakā-vana) in which there is a lake the waters of which produce great anger in those who drink of it.

The heavens of the last four classes of the divine beings on the plane of sensory desires are located above Mount Meru:

• The Heaven Free of War (’Thab-bral, Skt. Yāma)
• The Heaven of Happiness (dGa’-ldan, Skt. Tuṣita)
• The Heaven of Miracles Concerning Oneself (’Phrul-dga’, Skt. Nirmāṇarati) 
• The Heaven of Miracles Concerning Others (gZhan-’phrul dbang-byed, Skt. Para-nirmita-vaśavartin), which is the residence of Mara.

The Heaven of Happiness (Tushita) should not be confused with the two Buddha-fields called the Tushita Pure Land (dGa’-ldan), presided over by Maitreya Buddha, and the Sukhavati Pure Land, presided over by Amitabha Buddha (’Od dpag-med). Buddha-fields are not heavens, and to be reborn in one of them is a rebirth outside the six states of uncontrollably recurring rebirth. Once there, we are completely free from all suffering. Many great gurus live in them, and all the conditions are suitable for becoming a bodhisattva and continuing without interruptions to become fully enlightened. To be born in a Buddha-field, we must have maintained pure ethical self-discipline and have committed many constructive actions with the motivation to be reborn in one. Particularly effective for this is the sincere repetition of Amitabha Buddha’s name, as practiced in the Pure Land traditions of China and Japan, or of OM MANI PADME HUM, the mantra of Avalokiteshvara, the manifestation of the Buddhas’ compassion. Avalokiteshvara has been deputed by the Buddhas to make conditions conducive for Dharma study, to teach the Dharma and to lead limited beings to the Buddha-fields.

Fifty human years are equivalent to one day in the life of the first class of divine beings on the plane of sensory desires. Their lifespan is five hundred years of these days, or approximately nine million human years. The lifespan of each of the classes of divine beings above them doubles.

After Asanga received a pure vision of Maitreya, after meditating in a cave retreat for twelve years, Maitreya took him with his extraphysical powers to Tushita Pure Land. There, he taught him the Five Dharma Texts of Maitreya (Byams-chos sde-lnga), including A Filigree of Realizations (mNgon-rtogs rgyan, Skt. Abhisamayālaṃkārā), which contained the guideline instructions for unlocking the teachings on extensive behavior found in the Prajnaparamita Sutras (Shes-rab-kyi pha-rol-tu phyin-pa’i mdo, Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra, Perfection of Wisdom Sutras). Asanga wrote these texts down to bring them back to earth. Having spent a morning of the gods in this Heaven of Happiness, he discovered that when he returned to earth, everyone had aged fifty years while he had not aged at all.

[See also: Vasubandhu, “A Treasure House of Special Topics of Knowledge,” III.79]

The suffering of the divine beings of the plane of sensory desires is summarized as follows:

If we think that there is really more happiness among the divine beings than in the other rebirth states, we are mistaken. As a divine being on the plane of sensory desires, we suffer from knowing when we will die and to what rebirth we will fall, from feeling inferior to the higher divine beings, as well as from being slashed, having our limbs hacked off and being killed in the wars with the would-be divine, and from being supplanted by the more powerful divine beings.

As a divine being of the plane of sensory desires, we know when we will die because of the appearance of the death signs (’chi-ltas, Skt. ariṣṭa). When death approaches, we receive either the five early (ring-ba’i ’chi-ltas) or the five imminent signs of death (nye-ba’i ’chi-ltas). After this, if we are of the first class of divine beings, we will live for seven divine being-days, that is for 350 human years. This period is doubled for each higher class of divine beings.

Nagarjuna has described the five early signs of death in A Letter to a Friend, 99–100: 

“The color of your body turns ugly; there’s no delight in your seat; your flower garlands wilt; your clothes become smelly; and sweat comes out on your body, which it never did before,”

(These) five early signs that herald your death and shift-down from a higher status appear to celestials in higher status rebirth states, just as signs of death (appear) to humans on earth, heralding impending death.

As a human, when we are about to die, our disposition often changes rather suddenly, such as if we were miserly, we become very generous. We become very calm, and our breathing fluctuates unevenly. When we place our right hand on top of our head and look at the sky, we see a broken empty space at our wrist rather than a narrow strip of flesh. When we stare at the moon on a full moon night and then quickly look back at our shadow, we see it as having no head. Although the appearance of these signs may indicate that our death is imminent, this is not always the case.

The five imminent signs of death for the divine beings on the plane of sensory desires are:

• The radiance of their body diminishes
• When they wash themselves, the water clings to their body
• Their clothes and ornaments make unpleasant sounds when they move
• Their eyes begin to blink
• Their mind becomes narrow and rigidly fixated on one point, and they become completely withdrawn.

The divine beings on the plane of sensory desires are extremely haughty, snobbish and fickle. They do not have lasting friendships and are preoccupied with their own self-importance and pleasure. When, as one of them, we receive the death signs, we are taken to a remote and deserted place, and our friends and relatives refuse to have anything more to do with us. Only extremely patronizing divine beings will come to visit us, offering from a distance food and garlands on long sticks and praying that we be reborn as a human so that we might build up the positive karmic force to be reborn once again among the divine beings.

During our long life as a divine being, we were so immersed in indulging our own desires that we never had any time or inclination to think about our future births or to prepare for them. Now that the network of positive karmic force, which had caused our rebirth as a divine being, has been depleted and we have received the signs that we are about to fall, there is little we can do. Seeing with our clairvoyance the more miserable rebirth that awaits us, we experience intense anguish as we sit alone, completely rejected and depressed, counting the days left until we die.

In the Great Sutra on the Close Placement of Mindfulness, 172, it has been said:

The (mental) suffering that the divine beings experience when (they receive the death signs that) they are about to fall from their births in the divine being realms is sixteen times worse than the (physical suffering) of the limited beings born in the joyless realm of unrelenting pain (Avici Hell).

The suffering of the divine beings on the two higher planes of existence (khams gong-ma gnyis, Skt. ūrdhva-dhātu), the plane of ethereal forms and the plane of formless beings, is explained as follows:

The divine beings of the plane of ethereal forms, still under the influence of the disturbing emotions and attitudes, are divided among four general classes according to the four levels of mental stability (bsam-gtan, Skt. dhyāna) into which they are absorbed. Those absorbed on the first such level are in the Brahma realms (tshangs-pa’i ’jig-rten, Skt. Brahma-loka), divided into three heavens: 

• The Heaven of the Brahma Caste (Tshangs-ris, Skt. Brahma-kāyika)
• The Heaven of the Priests Reciting the Rigveda before Brahma (Tshangs-pa mdun-na ’don, Skt. Brahma-purohita)
• The Great Brahma Heaven (Tshangs-chen, Skt. Mahā-brahmāṇa). 

When the universe is destroyed by the fire of the seven suns at the end of the present great eon, all the realms from the Brahma realms down will be destroyed. At that time, all limited beings will be reborn in the higher heavens on the plane of ethereal forms and the plane of formless beings, from which they will fall again to lower rebirth states at the beginning of the next great eon.

The divine beings absorbed into the second level of mental stability are divided among three heavens according to the amount of light that reflects from their physical body: 

• The Heaven of Limited Light (’Od-chung, Skt. Paritta-ābhā)
• The Heaven of Immeasurable Light (Tshad-med ’od, Skt. Apramāṇa-ābhā) 
• The Heaven of Brilliant Light (’Od-gsal, Skt. Ābhā-svara).

The divine beings absorbed into the third level of mental stability are divided among three heavens according to the amount of virtue they have collected: 

• The Heaven of Limited Virtue (dGe-chung, Skt. Paritta-śubha)
• The Heaven of Immeasurable Virtue (Tshad-med dge, Skt. Apramāṇa-śubha)
• The Heaven of Extensive (Full) Virtue (dGe-rgyas, Skt. Śubha-kṛtsna).

The divine beings absorbed into the fourth such level of mental stability are divided into two general categories. The first consists of individual beings divided among three heavens (so-so’i skye-bo’i gnas gsum): 

• The Cloudless Heaven (sPrin-med, Skt. Anabhraka), in which the divine beings do not rely on clouds as their vehicles
• The Heaven of the Generation of Great Positive Force (bSod-nams skyes, Skt. Puṇya-prasava)
• The Heaven of the Greatest Attainment of Individual Beings (’Bras-bu che-ba, Skt. Bṛhat-phala). This one has a subsection called the Heaven of Those Lacking the Faculty of Distinguishing (’du-shes med-pa’i sems-can, Skt. Asaṃjñi-sattvā).

The second category of divine beings absorbed into the fourth class of mental stability consists of the five pure states (gnas-gtsang lnga, Skt. pañca-śuddhāvāsa-kāyika) or the five arya states (’phags-pa’i gnas-lnga). It is divided into five heavens: 

• The Heaven of No Great Virtue (Mi-che-ba, Skt. Avṛha)
• The Heaven of No Hardships (Mi-gdung-ba, Skt. Atapa)
• The Heaven of Untarnished Visions (Gya-nom snang-ba, Skt. Sudṛśa)
• The Heaven of Beautiful Visions (Shin-tu mthong-ba, Skt. Sudarśana)
• The Heaven Beneath None (’Og-min, Skt. Akaniṣṭha).

These then are the seventeen classes of divine beings of the plane of ethereal forms.

The divine beings of the plane of formless beings are divided among four heavens according to the type of meditation into which they are deeply absorbed: 

• The Heaven of the Infinity of Space (Nam-mkha’ mtha’-yas skye-mched, Skt. Ākāśānantya-āyatana)
• The Heaven of the Infinity of Consciousness (rNam-shes mtha’-yas skye-mched, Skt. Vijñānānantya-āyatana)
• The Heaven of Nothingness (Ci-yang med-pa’i skye-mched, Skt. Ākiṃcanya-āyatana)
• The Heaven of Neither Distinguishing nor Non-Distinguishing (’Du-shes-med ’du-shes-med-min skye-mched, Skt. Naivasaṃjñānā-saṃjñā-āyatana). This heaven is also called the Peak of Samsara (Srid-rtse, Skt. Bhavāgra).

When we are reborn on the plane of formless beings, we need not pass through the bardo. We enter it with full awareness of our condition and have a body of ethereal form based on our subtle life-sustaining energy. Our entire rebirth as a divine being of the plane of formless beings is spent in a sleeping meditation of shamatha, in which our minds are blank and we neither realize nor learn anything. However, we mistake this formless meditation to be liberation, and this is a grave error. At the end of this extremely long rebirth, when we see that we will have to fall again to a lower state, we come to despise liberation, which we mistakenly believed we had already attained. We say that there is no such thing as liberation from suffering, and, as a result of this distorted view, we are reborn directly into the joyless realm of unrelenting pain. If after this we happen to attain a human form, we are reborn as a very stupid and ignorant person, prone to sleepiness because of the eons we had spent in mistaken meditation.

The suffering of the divine beings of the plane of ethereal forms and the plane of formless beings is summarized as follows:

As a divine being on one of the two upper planes, we have the suffering inherent in possessing aggregate mental faculties, which can be either with or without physical form, and which like a magnet attract to them suffering such as from old age and death. We also suffer from lacking the power to remain in these divine-being realms forever and from having inevitably to fall to a rebirth with even more suffering.

No matter where we are born, from the highest class of the divine beings of the plane of formless beings to the lowest of the great hot joyless realms, we have nothing but suffering, for being in samsara is like being in a six-storied house on fire.

The Seventh Dalai Lama has said in one of his Songs:

This so-called wheel of uncontrollably recurring rebirth with its three planes of existence is like a house of flames. In whichever of the ten directions you go within it, you are burned with suffering. Although it troubles my heart greatly, still there is this manner of appearance (due to limited beings’ individual karmic actions). I feel very sad at this manner of appearance of those having to wander in such a terrible place.

We turn away from compulsive attraction felt toward the alluring pleasures of samsara by thinking that all of them are but causes for eventual suffering and by realizing that everything we see of such existence – be it happiness, wealth, power or whatever – is deceptive by nature, merely causing us to become attached to these ephemeral pleasures. 

Eventually, we become as disinterested in them as a child whose heart is set on sweets would be for a plate of turnips his mother was encouraging him to eat – it wouldn’t matter if the turnips were boiled, fried or mashed, the child would still refuse it. Turnips, after all, are still turnips. [As cited by Pabongka in “Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand,” 265.a2–3.]

When we reach the stage at which we turn away from compulsive attraction in this manner and produce day and night an endless flow of wishes to attain liberation, then we have developed true renunciation. This is what it means to have expanded our minds to work with keen interest in attaining liberation.

As Tsongkhapa has said in The Three Principal Aspects of the Path, 5:

When, by accustoming yourself in this way, you never generate, for even an instant, a mind that aspires for the splendors of recurring samsara, and you develop the attitude that day and night always is interested keenly in liberation, at that time, you have generated renunciation.

Renunciation (nges-’byung, Skt. naiṣkramya) is the state of mind in which we desire ourselves to be liberated from all suffering. Compassion (snying-rje, Skt. karuṇā) is the state of mind in which we desire all others to be so liberated.

The term “renunciation” implies the belief that there is a solution to our suffering condition in samsara, namely liberation. It should not be confused with the term “despair,” which implies the belief that there is no way out. One wishes to be free but has no underlying belief that there is a way out. 

Moreover, following ascetic practices of austerity may not reflect a renounced mind. Sitting in a cave, wearing rags and eating nettles, while being obsessed with the wish for others to consider us a great meditator, does not indicate renunciation at all. What is to be abandoned is compulsive attraction to worldly pleasures in this and future lives and not necessarily pleasure itself. What is essential, then, is to detach ourselves from the eight transitory things in life.

[See: Dispelling Discomfort at Eight Worldly Concerns]

Furthermore, renunciation does not mean escapism. Having renounced our obsession with worldly pleasure and strongly wishing to be liberated from the suffering it brings, we do not run away from our problems, but confront them directly. It is only when we become aware of the causes of our suffering, as explained next, that we can then find a true solution to the predicament of uncontrollably recurring rebirth.

Nor should we have short-lived all-excited renunciation, which is what someone may feel out of frustration when some worldly things do not “work out,” like being robbed, falling down, not getting a promotion at work and so on. On the spur of the moment, we are all enthusiastic. However, being impetuous and superficial, it does not last. This is just a mirror-image of the stable determination to be free, which is when we see that uncontrollably recurring existence is fraught with nothing but problems and, wishing to be free of all problems forever, we are determined to break the continuity of uncontrollable rebirth. Thus, whatever crests of samsara we encounter, we are disgusted (yid-’byung, Skt. nirvid), seeing that it is only suffering.

Likewise, we should not have short-lived all-excited realization of impermanence (sna-thung-gi mi-rtag-pa), which someone might have at the time of death when they see they must part from friends and wealth, and then they get depressed. This is just another manifestation of their attachment and total involvement with these things of this life.