WSW 6: Analogy of the Peacock Thriving on Difficult Situations

Now we’re ready to start the verses of the text, and the first verse reads:

In jungles of poisonous plants strut the peacocks,

 – “strut” means to walk very proudly – 

though medicine gardens of beauty lie near. The masses of peacocks do not find gardens pleasant but thrive on the essence of poisonous plants.

This is introducing the image of the peacock. I don’t really know the customs of peacocks but, according to this text, which I assume is correct, peacocks eat poisonous plants. Now, I’m not quite sure what they are referring to. The only thing that I can think of is, in India there is a certain bush that grows everywhere. It’s really very widespread, especially where I was living up in Dharamsala, and it has on it actually very pretty flowers which are a cluster of very small, little flowers. Some of them are red, and some of them are yellow, and they are sort of mixed together, and it’s very pretty but it’s very poisonous for an animal to eat. All the animals know that, and so none of them will eat that. The cows, the goats, the horses – nobody will eat that. It’s quite amazing that they know that, but they do; and I could imagine that it’s maybe this type of thing that peacocks eat. It must be something like that that they are referring to. Peacocks walk through these places where there are poisonous plants, and they stay there. They don’t go where “medicine gardens of beauty lie” – where there are nice, healthy types of plants that are nice. The peacocks don’t find these gardens very nice; they prefer these places with the poisonous plants, and they thrive on it, which means that they live on that, and it makes them feel very strong. That’s the image that is introduced here, and these peacocks are an analogy for bodhisattvas. 

We have the second verse: 

In similar fashion, the brave bodhisattvas remain in the jungle of worldly concern. No matter how joyful this world’s pleasure gardens, these brave ones are never attracted to pleasures but thrive in the jungle of suffering and pain.

A bodhisattva is someone who has developed bodhichitta. Bodhichitta is a mind and heart which is first of all motivated or moved by love and compassion. “Great love” and “great compassion,” it’s called. Great love is the wish for everybody to be happy – everybody; not just people that you like – and to have the causes for happiness. Great compassion is the wish for everybody to be free of suffering and the causes of suffering. That, of course, is based on equanimity – having this equal attitude toward everyone. Bodhichitta is also based on taking the responsibility to actually help them to gain that happiness and to be free of suffering. This is not just on a superficial level, but we aim to help them to gain liberation and enlightenment – we’re taking that responsibility. It’s called the “exceptional resolve.” Then the bodhisattvas have bodhichitta; and bodhichitta is, based on this, then aimed at – in the first phase – the welfare of everybody: “I want to benefit everybody to this extent.” Then in the second phase, it’s focusing one’s own future enlightenment: the enlightenment that one has not yet attained, but which is possible to attain on the basis of Buddha-nature. In other words, you’re convinced that you can attain that.

It has the intention to reach that enlightenment, and the intention to benefit others as much as possible once you’ve reached that enlightenment, and also to try to benefit them as much as possible along the way. That’s bodhichitta. The main thing with bodhichitta is that I’ve got to overcome my limitations because I need to be able to help others. We talk about it in a practical sense of what it really means. You’re completely dedicated to developing more and more, more and more good qualities, overcoming more and more limitations. “How can I be lazy when other people are suffering so much? How can I get angry with somebody when they are obviously suffering so much? How can I get attached to somebody? It’s just going to be difficult for them and prevent me from helping others because I just want to be with this one.” So, one has the strong feeling that “I’ve got to overcome this;” we’re aiming for enlightenment to be able to benefit everybody, not just because I want to be highest. That’s possible. 

We think, “I really want to benefit others” and so, in the process of working toward enlightenment, one tries to help others as best as one can, with the realization that, “I’m really only going to know what’s best method to help somebody else if I become enlightened.” In other words, only if I get rid of all my limitations so that I can really understand all the causes of why somebody is the way they are, and all the effects of what will happen if I teach them this or I teach them that. So, I can choose what the best thing is to teach them, what the best way is to help them. Sometimes you help somebody by doing something for them; sometimes you might help them better by not doing it and letting them do it by themselves, so that they learn. How do we know? It’s not so easy. People ask me questions all the time, and I have no idea sometimes how to answer them and what the effect of it will be. 

How do we deal with difficult situations? If we’re not yet a bodhisattva or not really at that level, is this something that we would want to reach? There are two things that we’re talking about here. One is what you’d like to do, and here it’s saying the bodhisattvas prefer to be in difficult situations with difficult people than being in pleasant situations where everything is easy. The other thing is, how do you prepare to be in these difficult situations? Of course you have to be calm, and you have to not be afraid, and not have self-cherishing, and all of this. That’s two different things. Here, in this verse, we’re just talking about what you prefer. What do you like? Let’s say the baby is crying in the middle of the night. You might not feel like getting up, but you know that you have to get up. Once you get up and go to the baby, then you get into really taking care of the baby, and all the love and everything is there. But that first minute when you wake up, surely you don’t want to just bounce out of bed. I find that that’s true: although it’s not the ultimate motivation, sometimes you just do it. You just force yourself to do it – to help somebody, to call somebody, to go to a class.

So, this verse says “in similar fashion” – in the commentaries it speaks about five points with which the bodhisattva is similar to peacocks. It says that the colors of the peacock feathers get more brilliant when they eat plants that are poisonous to other animals. But bodhisattvas shine with happiness by dealing with the different disturbing emotions that other people have, which are poisons to them. It says: “Just as peacocks have five feathers on the top of their head, bodhisattvas have the attainment of the five paths.” That’s just talking about the different stages of their path.

The third one: “The sight of the peacock’s color gives us pleasure, and so likewise the sight of a bodhisattva uplifts our minds.” When you see somebody who is acting like that, and who is able to deal with people in really difficult situations, it does encourage us, doesn’t it? It’s very inspiring. I always think of somebody like His Holiness the Dalai Lama, who has to deal with being public enemy number one of China, and all the negative, nasty things that they say about him, and try to do to prevent him from being able to do what he does. He just sort of thrives on that. Instead of getting depressed on it, it makes him even stronger, makes him even stronger. To see that really uplifts us. “The sight of the peacock’s color gives us pleasure, and so likewise the sight of a bodhisattva uplifts our mind.”

Then the next one is: “Just as peacocks live mostly on poisonous plants and never eat insects or harm others, bodhisattvas never cause the slightest harm to others.” Well, that’s difficult, isn’t it? If you think about it, as a bodhisattva or somebody trying to follow the bodhisattva path, we might not consciously and on purpose hurt somebody; but because we don’t know what’s the best way to help somebody, we might cause some harm or hurt them unconsciously. We give them advice which turns out to be a disaster. That happens. How do we deal with that? You try to help somebody, and you don’t want to cause them harm, but the advice you give was not very good advice, and they get harmed. How do we deal with that ourselves? Do we get depressed, do we feel that I’m guilty, do we feel that “I’m no good?” Did we have the right motivation? That’s one thing. But then the other thing is, what happens when you have to face the person? That’s not so easy. What’s the best way to handle that? To be honest. “Look, I’m not a Buddha, I tried my best. I thought this was good advice, and so it didn’t turn out very well. Let’s see what we can do now.” Maybe they’ll say, “Well, I don’t want your advice anymore.” Then we need to be able to accept that. When go to help somebody and you break what you’re going to help with – you come to repair something in somebody’s house, and instead of repairing it you break it – this is what we’re talking about here. You might feel worse than the person does. But that’s guilt, isn’t it? Guilt is never useful. 

Can you define “guilt?” It’s thinking, “I am the only one who is the cause of the problem,” and there is something further there: you don’t let go. You don’t let go of that. You hold on to it and make that your solid, permanent identity. In addition, you make what you did into something really bad. “That was really terrible, what I did.” You really blow it up into the worst thing in the world, and then you don’t let go of that either. “I’m so bad and what I did was so bad,” and you hang on to that. “I made such a mess.” Guilt is feeling that you can’t do anything about it, so you are holding on to this identity of being bad. But you do have to take responsibility for the mess that we’ve made. It’s like if you drop a glass and break it on the floor, you have to take responsibility for that – clean it up and maybe replace it, get a new one. You do have to take responsibility. That’s quite different. 

A bodhisattva prefers to deal with these really difficult cases rather than easy cases: “Let’s take on the most difficult cases.” I think that we have to know our own level of ability. Are we ready to go and work in Mother Theresa’s hospital in Calcutta with all the lepers who are in their final stage of leprosy and dying? “Am I at that stage where I can go? Well, I don’t think so.” I think we have to be honest with ourselves about what level are we at. We can aspire for that. I have a friend – I have mentioned her I think several times – who’s a psychiatrist who works primarily with criminal, violent teenagers. Am I able to deal with that? No, no way that I’m ready to try to help these kind of people. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to approach them. You have to see what you are fit for doing. It’s very interesting what she finds, because she is incredibly successful, she’s one of the most successful people dealing with this kind of difficulties. Her success is that she treats them like human beings. She takes interest in them, and she listens to their story. The worst thing that you could ever do with somebody like that is to say, “You’re time is up.” Then they get really violent with you. You have to be willing to listen to them for as long as they speak. If they are willing to speak to you, you have to be totally open, understanding, and there for them. This is really a bodhisattva – to not be afraid, but also not be stupid: you sit closest to the door; you don’t have them sit closest to the door, for example. 

So, this is the fourth analogy here: the peacock just lives on the poison mostly and doesn’t eat insects or cause others harm, and so the bodhisattvas don’t cause even the slightest harm. We try at least our best not to cause harm; and if we do cause harm, we take some responsibility – we try to be honest and so on. 

Then the fifth one was: just as peacocks eat poisonous plants with pleasure, when bodhisattvas are offered sensory objects, although they have no attachment to these objects, they accept them with pleasure to allow the donor to gain merit from his offering. What are the difficult situations that they are talking about here in the text? They are talking about the difficult situations of disturbing emotions: when other people have a great deal of attachment and desire, or they have a great deal of anger and so on. Can we deal with them in that situation? What it’s leading to is of course tonglen: taking on the anger in ourselves, or the desire in ourselves, using it to destroy our own desire and anger, and then giving them peace of mind or whatever it is that we need. I think of an example, just recently: I’m on a diet, I’d like to lose some weight, and so I’m with somebody and they offer me a cake, for example. They baked a cake. I am going to Freiburg this weekend so I am going to be a guest in somebody’s house, and I could imagine very easily that they are going to make something really nice and special for me, especially the first day. 

What do you do in that situation? What it’s saying is that you would eat it without attachment, without anger, in order to not offend the other person. You don’t have to eat a huge amount. But my diet and my own personal things are not as important. Now, I don’t have to eat cake the entire weekend, but you can compromise. I think that’s a very light example of what they are talking about here. The point is that even though it’s poisonous, we eat it with pleasure; we take it with pleasure and without attachment – in certain situations. When I go visit my old aunt and uncle – they watch television, that’s what they do. I don’t want to watch television. I know if I watch television, I will get addicted to television – it’s the nature of television, you just get addicted to it – and so, you accept it and watch the television but without attachment. You don’t sit there and count your mantras; you sit there and watch the television because they can see that – “What’s the matter, you’re not interested, you don’t like it, you’re doing your mantras” – they think you’re really weird. My aunt and uncle would certainly think I was very weird if I’m sitting there with a rosary. You have to actually enjoy it. 

You have to enjoy because what’s very important is that you let the other person give you something. Then they get a feeling of self-worth. The best thing for somebody with low self-worth is to allow them to give you something, to be generous, to do something. Even if what they do is completely ridiculous. It’s like, for instance, if a five-year-old or a six-year- old makes you a picture, you don’t just say, “Oh, very nice” and throw it in the garbage. They like it very much if you put it up on the wall or something like that, and then they have actually given you something and you like it. 

So that’s the second verse here: 

In similar fashion, the brave bodhisattvas remain in the jungle of worldly concern. No matter how joyful this world’s pleasure gardens, these brave ones are never attracted to pleasures but thrive in the jungle of suffering and pain.

Now, it’s a difficult one with beer, I must say. Let’s say you’ve taken vows not to take alcohol or not to take intoxicants – like smoking hashish or marihuana. Now you’re a bodhisattva, and you’re with people who are drinking or are smoking. In most circumstances, I think you’d have to say no. But it depends; if it is a situation in which you could see that you could really help them if you did take it, then you take just a little bit. One has to judge: does it really matter or not in terms of helping these people, or is it just a bunch of your friends? it’s very interesting because I certainly used to get high, and when I stopped – when I took a vow not to do that anymore – and I was with friends who did, they accepted the fact that I had a vow and I that I didn’t do it anymore. That wasn’t a problem. One thinks that it will be a problem, but it was never a problem. You’re there with them, and you joke with them anyway; you’re not sitting there and looking down on them, you’re not uptight about it. Then it’s okay, but I’m talking about other situations in which you go to place like Siberia, where you have to drink vodka with the people. “If you’re my friend, then you have to drink it.” There is no way of breaking the ice with them, as it were, unless you have a drink with them. 

Mind you, I have been to these places, and that’s never happened to me, but I could imagine that that could happen. You go to a Mongol tent – and this I have done – and they have just a huge carcass of a sheep on the table with knives, and that’s it. Everybody gets a knife, and you just slice off some meat and eat it. To say, “I’m vegetarian, could I have a green salad please?” – that doesn’t quite work. They are being very hospitable. And so here, this is what the text is saying: to take it without attachment. That’s the path of the bodhisattva, to take it without attachment. But I think that you’d have to add into that that this is in a situation in which you see it could be beneficial. If it doesn’t matter, I think that you can say no – personally I think that. I think you really have to use your judgment whether or not it’s going to be helpful to the other person.

Whether take a beer with you or not – maybe it doesn’t make any difference, actually. Whether I eat or I don’t eat – maybe it doesn’t make a difference. That I think is not so easy to judge, but you can judge. People can be really uptight and say, “I baked this cake just for you. I hope you like it.” There are some people that react very badly if you say no: “What’s the matter, it’s not good enough for you?” That’s a horrible line. “Are you too arrogant to eat this thing that I made?” That’s really difficult when you’re in India or Tibet or these very poor places, and they serve you something, and you know that is going to make you sick, it’s not clean. Then you’re really in trouble. 

But the attitude certainly does make a difference. I can think of situations, like in India, where there are these big initiations, and during the initiation they go around with a big cattle of water, and you get a handful of water, and you’re supposed to drink it. Now, you know that that is not boiled water; that that is just water from the tap which undoubtedly is going to give you diarrhea. And this is holy water, in a ceremony. What do you do? You drink it. And you try to do it, as the text says, without attachment. Because if you’re attached – if you only think, “Oh my god, this going to make me sick” – then usually for sure it will make you sick.

I remember going to visit Ling Rinpoche – the old senior tutor of His Holiness – in the summer. This was many years ago, before there was bottled water and these things available. It was hot, and he had a person come in and bring a glass of water with some really sweet orange syrup that you get in India. I was sure that the water was certainly not boiled, and here there was a great lama offering you something. If you’re ever in that type of situation you can always say, “I just drink hot water” – that’s acceptable. The same thing with the Tibetan tea, if you know that it’s going to make you sick: you say, “I drink hot water” and then they will serve you hot water. So, you have to know the society as well. But that’s a very good trick to know with Tibetans.

Then the third verse:

We spend our whole life in the search for enjoyment, yet tremble with fear at the mere thought of pain; thus, since we are cowards, we are miserable still. But the brave bodhisattvas accept suffering gladly and gain from their courage a true lasting joy.

This is talking about how we look at ourselves, how we look at our life. We always want enjoyment, we want entertainment, we want things to be nice, and we are really afraid of even the thought of pain. Going to visit the dentist is not exactly what we are looking for. We would much rather go to a movie or go to a club and go dancing, wouldn’t we? But it says that “since we are cowards, we are miserable still.” Since we’re afraid of difficult, then we’re miserable still. In other words, we’re always looking out for pleasure, and we don’t want to have any difficulties. What’s the result? The result is that we still have problems, we still are not happy because no matter how much entertainment we have, we still want more. It’s never enough. No matter how much good meals we have or whatever, we always want more. What has it gotten us in life? Really it hasn’t gotten us very far or very much. “But the brave bodhisattvas accept suffering gladly and gain from their courage a true lasting joy” – so the bodhisattvas are always taking on the suffering of others, exchanging the attitude of self with others, and look what they have attained. 

There is a very famous verse – it comes in the Guru Puja, but it also comes earlier in Shantideva’s text – saying that childish people are always looking after their own benefit, and Buddhas have always been looking after the benefit of others; and look at the difference between the two in terms of what they experience. We still have problems, we still have difficulties because we only want things to be nice, and we’re afraid of dealing with suffering and difficult situations. Whereas somebody who does deal with all of this – look at them. Again, look at the example of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. He is not often going enjoying himself. He is travelling all over the place; he is 70 years old, and he makes a big international trip every couple of weeks, back and forth. And he’s dealing with the Chinese, and dealing with the most difficult situations, and has a packed daily schedule, so on – and he is one of the happiest people you could possibly meet. Then you look at people who are the same age, and who are retired, and living in Florida or wherever, just sitting by the swimming pool and playing cards, and their biggest thing concern is, “Where are we going to eat, what restaurant are we going to eat in today?” – they are miserable. They don’t want to deal with pain or suffering. 

I’ll never forget my mother’s closest friend in Florida, where she was retired. They lived next door to each other. They spoke with each other and saw each other I don’t know how many times every single day. But my mother developed Alzheimer’s disease, and she had to go into a nursing home, and this woman, her best friend, never called her again. Never. She never went to visit her. She never called her. She doesn’t want to deal with suffering – it’s too much, it’s too difficult. And is she happy like that? We’re not happy like that. My mother, on the other hand, was a very extraordinary woman – she really was very extraordinary, I must say – and she lived in this retirement place, and what she really liked to do was help the people that nobody else wanted to help. For instance, these old women or old men who basically had to stay in their little rooms, and couldn’t go outside to collect their post, for example – there is one main place where the post was. She always used to go and get their letters, and go bring them to the door, and visit them, speak with them a couple of minutes a day because nobody else ever came to them, nobody would help them. And she was quite happy. She certainly wasn’t a bodhisattva the difference between “I don’t want to deal with anybody that’s suffering” or somebody who goes and actually tries to help people who are suffering – this is quite a difference.

So, the verse was:

We spend our whole life in the search for enjoyment, yet tremble with fear at the mere thought of pain; thus, since we are cowards, we are miserable still. But the brave bodhisattvas accept suffering gladly and gain from their courage a true lasting joy.

“Accept suffering gladly” – again, we’re talking about the tonglen practice of taking it on and giving others happiness. But we’ll get into that soon.

Let’s end here with the dedication. We think whatever understanding we’ve gained, may it go deeper and deeper and act as a course for reaching enlightenment for the benefit of all.