The tropical heat of Singapore lingers in the air as I sit down with Bhikshuni Thubten Chodron at Amitabha Buddhist Centre, where she once served as a resident teacher. It’s a sweltering December day, but inside the Dharma hall, a sense of calm pervades – the beautiful Buddha statues certainly help but at this moment, it’s the freezing cold air conditioning that truly makes a difference! Adding to the atmosphere, Bhikshuni Thubten Chodron – a long-time friend of our very own Dr. Alexander Berzin – kicks off with playful jokes, setting the tone for what unfolds as a light-hearted yet deeply insightful conversation.
Ordained as a novice in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition in 1977 and receiving full ordination in Taiwan in 1986, Venerable Thubten Chodron has spent the last half a century making the Dharma accessible to modern audiences. She is the founder of Sravasti Abbey, the first Tibetan Buddhist monastery for Western monastics in the United States, and a prolific author, having co-written Buddhism: One Teacher, Many Traditions with His Holiness the Dalai Lama, among many other publications. She is well-known for making complex philosophical concepts approachable and relevant to our daily lives.
In our discussion, Bhikshuni Thubten Chodron speaks candidly about the challenges of practicing Buddhism in the modern world, exploring the tendency of Western students to reshape the Dharma to fit personal preferences, the importance of reasoning and debate in Buddhist study, and the transformative power of deity practice. She also offers an unfiltered look at monastic life – dispelling the common misconception that it’s simply an escape from worldly problems. Throughout our conversation, one theme remains constant: the importance of engaging fully with the Dharma rather than adapting it for convenience. Enjoy!
Study Buddhism: Many Western students attempt to distinguish between what they see as the “true” Dharma and cultural elements, often filtering out aspects they find uncomfortable. However, as you often point out, this process can risk reshaping Buddhism to fit pre-existing beliefs rather than embracing it fully. How can practitioners engage with the Dharma in a way that respects its integrity while also navigating the cultural contexts in which it has evolved?
Bhikshuni Thubten Chodron: One might say, “I agree with these parts of the Dharma, so they must be the Dharma. But those parts I don’t like? They must be culture.” In this way, we end up restyling the Dharma to match our own opinions, rather than embracing it as it is.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this issue, though I won’t claim to have all the answers. It’s not something that Asians, especially Tibetans, typically consider. Tibetans never experienced occupation by Western powers, nor did they receive Western-style education in universities. Without subjects like sociology, anthropology, or historical analysis, they haven’t separated what is culture from what is Buddhism. For them, Tibetan culture and Buddhism are so intertwined that they don’t question the difference.
In contrast, having studied liberal arts at university, I bring a very different perspective. It took me a long time to figure this out, and living in Asia for a while was incredibly helpful. Otherwise, in the West, we sometimes adopt a kind of colonial attitude, thinking, “We’ll take what they have and make it better.” We might say, “We’ll take Buddhism, remove the superstition, eliminate the nonsensical devotion, and transform it into something truly scientific.” But is this really the correct approach?
We need to ask ourselves: Have we internalized the Buddhist path so clearly in our minds that we can distinguish what is truly part of the Dharma and what is simply culture? Or are we adjusting things based on the desire to make them fit with what we already believe? As you mentioned, many Western students try to adjust Buddhism to fit their own beliefs, sometimes discarding elements they find challenging. This is how secular Buddhism has come to be, but I think we need to exercise caution when navigating this area.
One central concept that some practitioners struggle with is rebirth, so it’s sometimes dismissed as a cultural or symbolic idea rather than a fundamental part of the Buddha’s teachings. How can students approach such teachings that don’t initially resonate with them?
Some people say the Buddha didn't really teach rebirth. However, it's very clear in the scriptures that the Buddha did teach rebirth, and it's very clear that it's part of the system. Does that mean you need to believe in rebirth in order to benefit from the Buddha's teachings? Not at all!
The Buddha's teachings can benefit you whether you believe in rebirth or not. However, I think it would be really difficult without an understanding of rebirth to generate bodhichitta.
Accepting the idea of enlightenment would be difficult if we simply said rebirth is an Asian concept. I'm not saying we have to make ourselves believe things we don't, but if something doesn’t jive with you at first, don’t dismiss it right away. Keep it on the back burner, revisit it from time to time, and see if it makes sense after you’ve learned more, practiced more, and as your mind evolves. Don't let your ego be the arbiter of what is Buddhism and what isn't, that's dangerous.
In Approaching the Buddhist Path, you emphasize reasoning, logic, and debate as essential tools for Buddhist practice. Why is it so important to cultivate these skills, and how can they help practitioners engage more effectively with the Dharma?
The Buddha clearly recognized that there isn’t a single, one-size-fits-all approach to practice, as people have different inclinations and dispositions. Therefore, there needed to be various ways to practice the Dharma to suit everyone’s needs.
Personally, I enjoy learning reasoning and debate, but I recognize that it doesn’t work for everyone. I also believe it greatly depends on how philosophical studies are taught. For example, we’ve developed syllogisms to understand how our minds think, especially when we look at the stories our minds tell us in our daily lives. Take the example of assuming someone dislikes us because they spoke rudely. That’s a syllogism – a mental conclusion we create based on reasoning. But when we examine this reasoning, we find it’s actually quite illogical. What do we even mean by “rude speech?” Are we sure they were being rude, or was it just that we didn’t like what they said? Maybe they were in pain or dealing with something else. How can we even be sure it was rude? Even if it were rude, that doesn’t necessarily mean they dislike us.
I’ve found that when we connect syllogisms to real-life situations, people tend to see their value more clearly. We’ve had a lot of fun with this approach here. In my experience, philosophical study is invaluable for learning to think clearly. To ask a meaningful question, you need to be precise about what you want to know. If you’ve ever attended a general Dharma talk, you might notice that people often take five minutes explaining everything except their actual question. Even when asked to clarify, they still struggle to state it succinctly.
Philosophical studies help me focus on what my question truly is and what I want to express. I believe they’re incredibly helpful for improving clarity of thought and understanding.
Mantra recitation is a key practice in Tibetan Buddhism, yet it may seem quite different from reasoning and debate. How does reciting a mantra help refine the mind and support clarity in Buddhist practice?
A mantra is a set of syllables associated with a Buddha's manifestation, used as a meditation tool. When a Buddha is deeply realizing the ultimate nature of reality with compassion, a mantra is the Sanskrit expression of that meditative state.
Reciting a mantra helps connect us with a Buddha’s realization. It is an aid, a method to manage mental chatter. Our minds constantly generate internal dialogue – worrying, ruminating, and repeating thoughts. Reciting a mantra directs that mental energy toward something beneficial.
A mantra carries an energetic quality, both mental and physical. Regular recitation attunes our energy to it. However, we sometimes notice our energy is out of sync with the mantra, which prompts self-reflection: What is our state of mind? Where is our focus?
Mantra recitation ultimately serves as a tool for mindfulness and inner transformation, redirecting scattered mental energy toward clarity and spiritual growth.
What, then, is the role of prayer in Buddhism?
In Buddhism, we use the term "prayer" in ways that differ from the conventional understanding. For example, I often say I'm doing my prayers when I'm actually fulfilling my daily commitments, which include recitations and cultivating certain ways of thinking. What I'm doing is not quite the same as what the word "prayer" typically implies in English.
In the common usage of "prayer," we tend to think of asking someone with power to grant favors – like praying for good harvests, success in life, or prosperity. Some Buddhist prayers may resemble this for worldly goals, but more often, Buddhist prayers are more akin to aspirations. They're not about requesting something from an external deity, but about expressing desires to cultivate certain qualities in ourselves.
Instead of asking for something like “please bless me,” which I feel is a term more aligned with Christian notions, we frame prayers as aspirations. For instance, we might say, “Please help me realize the preciousness of my life” or “Inspire me to understand death and impermanence so I don’t waste my time.” These aren’t requests for external intervention, but aspirations for self-improvement – developing patience, compassion, and a deeper understanding of life.
These "prayers" are more about clarifying our own deepest wishes and intentions, helping us get in touch with our spiritual goals. In this way, prayer becomes a psychological tool – a method to reflect on and focus our inner aspirations. It’s a way of reminding ourselves of the qualities we want to cultivate.
Deity yoga, a central practice in Tibetan Buddhism, is often misunderstood, with deities sometimes seen as external beings granting blessings. How can practitioners engage with deity practice in a way that leads to genuine transformation?
Deity practice is something that you gradually figure out as you go along. It's not something fully explained from the beginning. Some parts are explained, but much of it is something you come to understand as you engage with the practice. It may be that you hear an explanation but don’t fully grasp it until later – only through practice does it start to make sense.
To explain deity practice, we must first understand what a deity is. A deity is a manifestation of the Buddha’s omniscient mind. We often think of deities as inherently existent beings. For example, take Chenrezig, the bodhisattva of compassion – he is depicted with eleven heads and a thousand arms. Some people might say, “I talk to him every day and ask for things, and all he says is Om Mani Padme Hum.” But thinking of deities as external figures who grant wishes is not deity practice.
Many people see deities as gods – separate, external beings capable of performing miracles, usually for worldly benefit. For example, someone might think, "If I ask Chenrezig for good health or for my family’s well-being, and he grants it, then I’ll make offerings to him." This approach resembles a business transaction – you request something, and if you receive it, you give something in return. But this is not true deity practice.
Instead, we need to shift from seeing deities as inherently existing beings to understanding them as dependent arisings. Deities are manifestations of enlightened qualities that depend on causes such as the karma and merit they created to attain their Form Bodies and Truth Bodies as Buddhas. They are symbolic representations of these qualities, meant to guide us in developing them within ourselves.
Deity practice also helps us connect with a variety of energies inside ourselves. For example, there are fierce deities, such as Yamantaka, whose appearance is terrifying. His image, with a gaping mouth, fiery hair, and weapons, is meant to teach us how to confront and transform our own anger. The fierce form of Yamantaka isn’t directed at other beings, but at our own afflictions and ignorance. By connecting with these fierce energies, we can learn to work with and transform negative emotions like anger into wisdom and compassion.
You just mentioned anger. Beyond Yamantaka practice, what are some practical and effective methods for transforming our own anger and dealing with the anger of others?
Buddhism offers many ways to work with anger, particularly in Chapter 6 of Engaging in the Bodhisattva’s Deeds by Shantideva. These methods are effective when practiced consistently, but expecting an instant fix is unrealistic.
The first step is truly wanting to work with anger. If someone believes it gives them power or is justified, they won’t engage with the antidotes. They need to reflect on anger’s actual impact – how it damages relationships, creates suffering, and often leaves behind regret. It’s not just a theory; looking at past experiences shows how anger leads to pain, both for oneself and others.
Many people feel anger gives them energy, but while it may create a surge of adrenaline, it clouds judgment and rarely leads to wise decisions. Acting out of anger usually makes things worse. Shantideva systematically breaks down every excuse for anger, showing how it traps people in cycles of resentment and bitterness.
A key antidote is recognizing that anger often arises from our own perceptions. When anger flares up, it’s usually fueled by thoughts like This isn’t fair or I need to fight back. But stepping back, questioning these thoughts, and seeing the bigger picture helps reduce their power. True strength comes from wisdom and compassion, not from the ability to lash out or control others through fear.
Another method is reflecting on the long-term consequences of anger. It may feel justified in the moment, but holding onto it only leads to greater unhappiness. Many who cling to anger over time become bitter, convinced of their own righteousness yet deeply miserable. Recognizing this pattern makes it easier to let go.
People often react to criticism with anger out of defensiveness, while others become disheartened – making it nearly impossible to respond constructively. How can we learn to handle criticism skillfully?
One common reaction to criticism is to reject it outright: “No, no, no! I didn’t do that!” But often, we may have actually made the mistake we’re being criticized for. In such cases, instead of responding defensively, a wiser approach is to calmly acknowledge it. A simple response like “Thank you for pointing out my mistake” helps shift our perspective. If we genuinely want to improve, then even difficult feedback is valuable. Rather than thinking, “I don’t want to hear this,” we can reframe it as, “Thank you for showing me how I can improve.”
However, if someone criticizes us for something we didn’t do, there’s no need to feel upset because the statement is simply incorrect. For example, if someone were to say, “You have a big nose,” we might calmly respond, “Yes, I have a nose.” There’s no reason to be defensive about something that is true. If a criticism is valid, we can accept it, take responsibility, and work toward improvement. But if it isn’t true, why let it disturb our peace?
Similarly, if someone makes an absurd claim – like saying, “You have horns growing out of your head” – there’s no reason to feel insulted. You can check, confirm that you don’t have horns, and move on. If the situation allows, you can even clarify with patience: “It may have looked that way because I was standing in front of a lamp, and the light poles created an illusion.” Responding to misunderstandings with calmness rather than anger eliminates unnecessary frustration.
These two techniques – acknowledging real faults with humility and responding to false criticism with equanimity – are powerful ways to reduce unnecessary anger and emotional distress. Instead of reacting with defensiveness or discouragement, we can develop patience, self-awareness, and inner peace. There are, of course, many other ways to handle criticism, but these simple approaches can be highly effective in shifting our mindset and emotional response.
Generosity is usually thought of in terms of giving material things, but in Buddhism, it takes many forms. How does the practice of generosity go beyond material giving, and why is it so essential on the path?
Generosity is the first of the ten paramitas, also known as the six paramitas. It is a foundational practice in every religion because generosity is universally recognized as a virtue. The Buddha emphasized generosity in his teachings for both laypeople and monastics. For monastics, generosity often means sharing the Dharma – teaching, guiding, and helping others practice. For laypeople, generosity tends to be more material, offering what they can to help others. Monastics may not have much material wealth to give, but laypeople usually have more opportunity to share.
Generosity is a cornerstone of human communication, not just between people, but also with animals. For example, feeding your pets is an act of generosity. It’s part of being a responsible member of society, contributing something beneficial to the welfare of others. This contribution doesn’t always have to be material – it can also be through offering skills, time, or even sharing ideas. We all have an internal need to contribute to the well-being of others, and generosity is a powerful way to fulfill that need.
The Buddha spoke about many forms of generosity. Material generosity is, of course, one of them. However, the generosity of the Dharma is considered the highest form of generosity because it benefits others' spiritual development. There is also the generosity of protection – helping protect beings from harm, like saving insects from drowning in a pool or rescuing animals from slaughter. These acts of protection are a form of generosity, as they help preserve life and alleviate suffering.
Another form of generosity is the generosity of love – providing emotional support, counseling, and care for people in need, whether they are grieving, angry, or confused. This kind of generosity is about offering compassion, showing love, and contributing to the happiness and well-being of others.
I just want to head back now to talking about deities. Let’s take Chenrezig or Avalokiteshvara, the Buddha of Compassion, who is often depicted with one thousand arms and eyes. What is the deeper significance of these features, and how can they help practitioners cultivate qualities like compassion?
The meaning of Chenrezig’s thousand arms is profound. Why does he have a thousand arms? It’s not just an arbitrary number. When you stretch out your arms, you feel different. It creates a feeling of openness, a readiness to serve and benefit the world. When you open your arms, you feel welcoming, willing to give and receive, ready to help.
In contrast, when you sit with your arms folded, you feel more defensive and closed off. This is something we often do when we feel insecure or want to protect ourselves. We pretend to be powerful by closing ourselves off from others, but in reality, we are shielding ourselves from vulnerability. The body position changes how we feel and how we connect with others.
Chenrezig, on the other hand, stands with his arms wide open, showing complete openness and willingness to help. He is not afraid, not protecting himself, and not being aggressive. His thousand arms reflect his vast compassion, constantly reaching out to sentient beings. By visualizing this, we learn to embody compassion without fear or defensiveness, to serve others with openness rather than self-protection.
This kind of symbolic gesture influences our minds deeply. We see Chenrezig’s peaceful, yet active form, and we are reminded that compassion does not mean being weak. Being calm and compassionate does not mean letting others walk all over us. Compassion, like Chenrezig’s, is rooted in inner strength and clarity. It's about knowing what is beneficial and acting in a way that reflects that wisdom. Through deity practice, we begin to develop and embody these qualities.
You often lead Green Tara meditations and even wrote a book How to Free Your Mind: The Practice of Tara the Liberator. Who is Tara in Buddhism, and how does her practice support spiritual development?
Tara, like Chenrezig, is a manifestation of the enlightened mind. She appears in female form. There are many Taras, at least 108, but Green Tara is particularly well known.
Lama Yeshe used to call her "Mommy Tara" because she embodies immediate, responsive compassion – like when a child cries out, "Mom!" and she comes running. Her green color represents energy, growth, and movement. She isn’t just sitting there sipping tea, hoping beings find happiness; her right leg is extended, ready for action. At the same time, her left leg is tucked in, symbolizing inner stability. This balance of internal wisdom and external engagement makes her an inspiring model for practitioners.
Her gestures reinforce this – one hand in the gesture of giving, the other symbolizing the union of method and wisdom. She is both peaceful and active, demonstrating how to engage with the world without being overwhelmed by it.
Because Tara manifests in a female form, some may assume her practice is primarily for women. However, that is not the case. Tara isn’t "just for women." Chenrezig is male, and everyone practices Chenrezig. Tara is no different. In fact, it is beneficial for men to engage in self-generation as a female deity, just as women visualize male deities. This practice helps loosen rigid grasping at gender identity and opens new ways of seeing ourselves beyond conventional labels.
Tara is known as the Mother of Liberation, and her practice is deeply connected to removing obstacles, overcoming fears, and developing wisdom and compassion. Many practitioners turn to Tara for swift assistance in times of distress, as she represents an active and immediate force of compassionate action.
Like all deity practice, Tara practice isn’t about an external being "out there" fixing things. Instead, it is about awakening those enlightened qualities within ourselves. Through visualizing Tara, chanting her mantra Om Tare Tuttare Ture Svaha, and meditating on her qualities, practitioners cultivate a connection to their own innate wisdom and compassionate nature. Recognizing and developing compassion, wisdom, and skillful action unlocks our true potential. That is real power.
You’ve emphasized the importance of learning about different Buddhist traditions, a key theme in Buddhism: One Teacher, Many Traditions, which you co-authored with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Why is it so important for Buddhists to study other traditions, and how can this deepen their own practice?
I believe it’s essential for practitioners of Tibetan Buddhism to learn about other Buddhist traditions. His Holiness the Dalai Lama wanted a book that explores Buddhist doctrine, and by examining both doctrine and practice, we begin to see the deep similarities among various Buddhist traditions. So, this is one of the key focuses of our book Buddhism: One Teacher, Many Traditions. We can appreciate how they all converge on the four truths, the Three Jewels of refuge, ethical conduct, concentration and wisdom, as well as love, compassion, joy, and equanimity.
Each Buddhist tradition offers a unique perspective, and I find it valuable to learn about these different approaches. Doing so stretches our minds, helping us see things from new angles. Learning about other Buddhist traditions has given me a greater appreciation for the Buddha’s remarkable skill as a teacher – his ability to guide people of diverse interests and dispositions.
His Holiness has pointed out that he has more contact with non-Buddhist spiritual leaders than with other Buddhists, and he believes it shouldn’t be that way. As Buddhists, we should come together and speak with a common voice. To do that, we must learn about each other’s traditions, because through this understanding, we can dispel the misconceptions and stereotypes that have been passed down through generations – misconceptions that have led to a lack of respect for other Buddhist traditions.
As an ordained monastic, you are upholding a 2,500-year-old lineage that traces directly back to the Buddha. In today’s fast-paced, technology-driven world, what does it mean to be a 21st-century Buddhist?
His Holiness the Dalai Lama often encourages us to be 21st-century Buddhists. For him, this means learning about other Buddhist traditions, engaging with science, having dialogue with scientists, communicating with other religions, fostering interfaith discussions, participating in social service, and directly benefiting society.
Although he didn’t explicitly include it, I believe gender equality is also essential for 21st-century Buddhism to take root and flourish in the West. It aligns with contemporary Western values, women’s rights, human rights, and respect for all sentient beings – not just some. The Buddha was very clear that he worked for the enlightenment of all sentient beings, not just males. He never said, "I am only working for half of sentient beings"; his purpose encompassed everyone. To truly fulfill the Buddha’s vision, gender equality must be a fundamental part of modern Buddhist practice.
You founded the first Tibetan Buddhist monastery for Western nuns and monks in the United States, creating a space for monastic training outside traditional Buddhist cultures. What role do monasteries play in preserving and transmitting the Dharma, particularly in a Western context?
Historically, monasteries have served as repositories of the Dharma – not only preserving scriptures, statues, and teachings but also providing a space for communal practice. The role of monasteries and monastics is to embody the Dharma through study, practice, and teaching, ensuring its continuity for future generations – something no single individual could accomplish alone.
Imagine if people struggling with difficulties or seeking special teachings came to my home, rang the doorbell, and asked for help. If I were a lay teacher, I might be holding a baby, a toddler might be crying, and my husband might be around, leaving me to say, “Sorry!” In contrast, a monastery provides a dedicated physical space where people know they can go for counseling, teachings, retreats, or simply for spiritual inspiration.
We receive countless emails from people who have never even been here, expressing gratitude for our existence. They find it inspiring to know that there are people consciously cultivating love, compassion, and wisdom in today’s world. Just the knowledge that such a place exists brings them hope and encouragement.
Monasteries also serve as the conscience of society in many ways. In a world where people chase happiness by climbing the corporate ladder, accumulating possessions, or seeking endless romantic relationships, monastics live differently – and yet, they are content. How is that possible?
Here is a group of people leading simple lives, detached from business, consumerism, and material pursuits. Our economy is one of generosity: we give freely, and others support us through donations, given freely in return. Monastics wear the same robes every day, abstain from sex, and aren’t glued to Netflix – yet they radiate happiness. Their existence challenges society’s assumptions about what brings fulfilment. It prompts a deeper question: Is the relentless pursuit of wealth and status truly meaningful? What is real happiness, and what are its true causes?
Still, I sometimes hear the cynical opinion that monastic life is just an escape from reality and the everyday difficulties we all face. How would you respond to that?
Sometimes people assume that monastics are escaping reality, avoiding the turmoil of ordinary life by retreating to a monastery.
But if overcoming ignorance, anger, attachment, and inner turmoil were as simple as changing clothes and shaving your head, everyone would do it! Unfortunately, our afflictions don’t disappear – they follow us right into the monastery.
In lay life, if you have problems at work, you can go home to your family for love, support, and understanding. Likewise, if you have family difficulties, you can find refuge at work, where colleagues might empathize with you.
In a monastery, however, you live, eat, share rooms with, pray, meditate, study, and even wash dishes alongside the same people every single day. There’s no escape! Our afflictions arise in relationships with others, and in a monastery, there’s no option to retreat to a family that showers you with love and encouragement. Instead, you are constantly confronted with your own faults and must work through them.
So, when people suggest that monastic life is an escape, I can’t help but chuckle – because in reality, it’s quite the opposite.
So, you’re with people pretty much 24/7! I’m not sure how many people could handle that! And yet, when I visit Tibetan monasteries and nunneries, I am often struck by the sheer joy I see on monks’ and nuns’ faces. Where does this joy come from?
The joy comes from practicing the Dharma, from having a long-term goal in life, and from knowing you are moving in the right direction. With the ultimate aim of full awakening, there is a deep sense of stability in the heart, reducing the emotional ups and downs of daily life. It doesn’t matter how long the journey takes or what challenges arise – what matters is the immense fortune of walking this incredible path, taught by an enlightened being and followed by countless practitioners who have reached the same goal.
With this direction set, there’s no need to worry about reputation, what others think, or whether my clothes match – or if people have seen me wearing the same outfit before – because they have!
What other benefits are there from becoming ordained and living with other monks or nuns?
There are many benefits to becoming a Buddhist monk or nun. It begins with having a very clear motivation. Your mind must be in the right state to take this step, generating the motivation that recognizes the Dharma as the most important thing in your life and the need to create both the space and lifestyle to support it.
The precepts provide structure in your life. I see ordination as a commitment to the Dharma. The first benefit of taking the precepts is the lifestyle you assume. By keeping the precepts, every moment you are not transgressing them, you are creating virtuous karma. Virtuous karma is essential, as it is the cause of all happiness – both now and in the future, leading to liberation and awakening. Every moment you uphold each precept, you generate the virtue of maintaining it, making it a powerful way to accumulate merit.
The precepts also aid in purification. Through deep reflection, you become acutely aware of your bad habits and how the mind can spiral out of control. Taking the precepts is a deliberate and conscious choice – you have made firm decisions about how you want to be in the world and how you do not. This decision comes from your own experience and wisdom, and you accept the precepts voluntarily.
The power of the precepts is immense. When you find yourself in situations where old habit patterns could easily resurface and pull you down a familiar slippery slope, you remember, "Oh, I have the precepts!" You have already made the decision not to engage in that kind of behavior, and so you simply don’t. And your heart remains completely at peace with it.
Monastic life is not for everyone, but for those for whom it is suited, it is truly a wonderful lifestyle.
What is your advice for someone reading this interview who is thinking about ordination? What are the essential things they should consider or be clear about?
You really have to work on your motivation first. That's absolutely the first thing. You meditate on the defects of cyclic existence, you meditate on the defects of the eight worldly concerns, and you become very clear about what you value in life, and what direction you want to take. Another important element before taking ordination is knowing what Buddhist tradition you are going to follow.
It's not like, "Oh, I just want to ordain!" No, you have to follow a tradition, you have to know who your teacher is, because becoming a monastic isn't just changing your hairdo and your clothes. It's changing your whole life. You're going to live in a community, so you need to know what kind of community you're going to live in, what monastery you want to join. You need to know who your teacher is, who's going to train you, because you definitely need a teacher. It's not just you ordain and then you go wandering around doing your own trip.
Practical things have to be set up too. In the West very often finances are a problem, because there aren't so many monasteries, and people don't support the Western monastics so much. Therefore, it is best to have some idea on how you're going to exist as a monastic, because otherwise if you have to grow out your hair, put on clothes and get a job just in order to eat, then it's going to be very difficult to keep the precepts.
When your internal causes are clear with your motivation and the external circumstances also clear, then you go to your teacher and request ordination. Your teacher may have a specific process for ordaining people, or they'll give you further instructions on what to do.
Thank you, Bhikshuni Thubten Chodron, for your time today and going into depth to answer our questions!
Of course! And now Alex [Dr. Berzin] will say, “Oh, I told you short answers and look what you’ve gone and done!”