Four sublime states of mind have been
taught by the Buddha:
In Pali, the language of the Buddhist
scriptures, these four are known under the name of
Brahma-vihara. This term may be rendered by: excellent,
lofty or sublime states of mind; or alternatively, by:
Brahma-like, god-like or divine abodes.
These four attitudes are said to be
excellent or sublime because they are the right
or ideal way of conduct towards living beings (sattesu
samma patipatti). They provide, in fact, the answer to
all situations arising from social contact. They are the
great removers of tension, the great peace-makers in social
conflict, and the great healers of wounds suffered in the
struggle of existence. They level social barriers, build
harmonious communities, awaken slumbering magnanimity long
forgotten, revive joy and hope long abandoned, and promote
human brotherhood against the forces of egotism.
The Brahma-viharas are incompatible with
a hating state of mind, and in that they are akin to Brahma,
the divine but transient ruler of the higher heavens in the
traditional Buddhist picture of the universe. In contrast to
many other conceptions of deities, East and West, who by
their own devotees are said to show anger, wrath, jealousy
and "righteous indignation," Brahma is free from hate; and
one who assiduously develops these four sublime states, by
conduct and meditation, is said to become an equal of Brahma
(brahma-samo). If they become the dominant influence
in his mind, he will be reborn in congenial worlds, the
realms of Brahma. Therefore, these states of mind are called
God-like, Brahma-like.
They are called abodes (vihara)
because they should become the mind's constant
dwelling-places where we feel "at home"; they should not
remain merely places of rare and short visits, soon
forgotten. In other words, our minds should become
thoroughly saturated by them. They should become our
inseparable companions, and we should be mindful of them in
all our common activities. As the Metta Sutta, the Song of
Loving-kindness, says:
When standing, walking, sitting, lying
down, Whenever he feels free of tiredness Let him
establish well this mindfulness — This, it is said, is the
Divine Abode.
These four — love, compassion,
sympathetic joy and equanimity — are also known as the
boundless states (appamañña), because, in their
perfection and their true nature, they should not be
narrowed by any limitation as to the range of beings towards
whom they are extended. They should be non-exclusive and
impartial, not bound by selective preferences or prejudices.
A mind that has attained to that boundlessness of the
Brahma-viharas will not harbor any national, racial,
religious or class hatred.
But unless rooted in a strong natural
affinity with such a mental attitude, it will certainly not
be easy for us to effect that boundless application by a
deliberate effort of will and to avoid consistently any kind
or degree of partiality. To achieve that, in most cases, we
shall have to use these four qualities not only as
principles of conduct and objects of reflection, but also as
subjects of methodical meditation. That meditation is called
Brahma-vihara-bhavana, the meditative development of
the sublime states. The practical aim is to achieve, with
the help of these sublime states, those high stages of
mental concentration called jhana, "meditative
absorption." The meditations on love, compassion and
sympathetic joy may each produce the attainment of the first
three absorptions, while the meditation on equanimity will
lead to the fourth jhana only, in which equanimity is the
most significant factor.
Generally speaking, persistent meditative
practice will have two crowning effects: first, it will make
these four qualities sink deep into the heart so that they
become spontaneous attitudes not easily overthrown; second,
it will bring out and secure their boundless
extension, the unfolding of their all-embracing range. In
fact, the detailed instructions given in the Buddhist
scriptures for the practice of these four meditations are
clearly intended to unfold gradually the boundlessness of
the sublime states. They systematically break down all
barriers restricting their application to particular
individuals or places.
In the meditative exercises, the
selection of people to whom the thought of love, compassion
or sympathetic joy is directed, proceeds from the easier to
the more difficult. For instance, when meditating on
loving-kindness, one starts with an aspiration for one's own
well-being, using it as a point of reference for gradual
extension: "Just as I wish to be happy and free from
suffering, so may that being, may all beings
be happy and free from suffering!" Then one extends the
thought of loving-kindness to a person for whom one has a
loving respect, as, for instance, a teacher; then to dearly
beloved people, to indifferent ones, and finally to enemies,
if any, or those disliked. Since this meditation is
concerned with the welfare of the living, one should not
choose people who have died; one should also avoid choosing
people towards whom one may have feelings of sexual
attraction.
After one has been able to cope with the
hardest task, to direct one's thoughts of loving-kindness to
disagreeable people, one should now "break down the barriers"(sima-sambheda).
Without making any discrimination between those four types
of people, one should extend one's loving-kindness to them
equally. At that point of the practice one will have come to
the higher stages of concentration: with the appearance of
the mental reflex-image (patibhaganimitta), "access
concentration" (upacara samadhi) will have been
reached, and further progress will lead to the full
concentration (appana) of the first jhana, then the
higher jhanas.
For spatial expansion, the practice
starts with those in one's immediate environment such as
one's family, then extends to the neighboring houses, to the
whole street, the town, country, other countries and the
entire world. In "pervasion of the directions," one's
thought of loving-kindness is directed first to the east,
then to the west, north, south, the intermediate directions,
the zenith and nadir.
The same principles of practice apply to
the meditative development of compassion, sympathetic joy
and equanimity, with due variations in the selection of
people. Details of the practice will be found in the texts
(see Visuddhimagga, Chapter IX).
The ultimate aim of attaining these
Brahma-vihara-jhanas is to produce a state of mind that can
serve as a firm basis for the liberating insight into the
true nature of all phenomena, as being impermanent, liable
to suffering and unsubstantial. A mind that has achieved
meditative absorption induced by the sublime states will be
pure, tranquil, firm, collected and free of coarse
selfishness. It will thus be well prepared for the final
work of deliverance which can be completed only by insight.
The preceding remarks show that there are
two ways of developing the sublime states: first by
practical conduct and an appropriate direction of thought;
and second by methodical meditation aiming at the
absorptions. Each will prove helpful to the other.
Methodical meditative practice will help love, compassion,
joy and equanimity to become spontaneous. It will help make
the mind firmer and calmer in withstanding the numerous
irritations in life that challenge us to maintain these four
qualities in thoughts, words and deeds.
On the other hand, if one's practical
conduct is increasingly governed by these sublime states,
the mind will harbor less resentment, tension and
irritability, the reverberations of which often subtly
intrude into the hours of meditation, forming there the
"hindrance of restlessness." Our everyday life and thought
has a strong influence on the meditative mind; only if the
gap between them is persistently narrowed will there be a
chance for steady meditative progress and for achieving the
highest aim of our practice.
Meditative development of the sublime
states will be aided by repeated reflection upon their
qualities, the benefits they bestow and the dangers from
their opposites. As the Buddha says, "What a person
considers and reflects upon for a long time, to that his
mind will bend and incline."
The
Basic Passage on the Four Sublime States
from the Discourses of the Buddha 
I. Here, monks, a disciple
dwells pervading one direction with his heart filled with
loving-kindness, likewise the second, the third, and the
fourth direction; so above, below and around; he dwells
pervading the entire world everywhere and equally with his
heart filled with loving-kindness, abundant, grown great,
measureless, free from enmity and free from distress.
II. Here, monks, a disciple
dwells pervading one direction with his heart filled with
compassion, likewise the second, the third and the fourth
direction; so above, below and around; he dwells pervading
the entire world everywhere and equally with his heart
filled with compassion, abundant, grown great,
measureless, free from enmity and free from distress.
III. Here, monks, a disciple
dwells pervading one direction with his heart filled with
sympathetic joy, likewise the second, the third and the
fourth direction; so above, below and around; he dwells
pervading the entire world everywhere and equally with his
heart filled with sympathetic joy, abundant, grown great,
measureless, free from enmity and free from distress.
IV. Here, monks, a disciple
dwells pervading one direction with his heart filled with
equanimity, likewise the second, the third and the fourth
direction; so above, below and around; he dwells pervading
the entire world everywhere and equally with his heart
filled with equanimity, abundant, grown great,
measureless, free from enmity and free from distress.
— Digha Nikaya 13
I. Love (Metta)
Love, without desire to possess,
knowing well that in the ultimate sense there is no
possession and no possessor: this is the highest love.
Love, without speaking and
thinking of "I," knowing well that this so-called "I" is a
mere delusion.
Love, without selecting and
excluding, knowing well that to do so means to create love's
own contrasts: dislike, aversion and hatred.
Love, embracing all beings: small
and great, far and near, be it on earth, in the water or in
the air.
Love, embracing impartially all
sentient beings, and not only those who are useful, pleasing
or amusing to us.
Love, embracing all beings, be
they noble-minded or low-minded, good or evil. The noble and
the good are embraced because love is flowing to them
spontaneously. The low-minded and evil-minded are included
because they are those who are most in need of love.
In many of them the seed of goodness may have died merely
because warmth was lacking for its growth, because it
perished from cold in a loveless world.
Love, embracing all beings,
knowing well that we all are fellow wayfarers through this
round of existence — that we all are overcome by the same
law of suffering.
Love, but not the sensuous fire
that burns, scorches and tortures, that inflicts more wounds
than it cures — flaring up now, at the next moment being
extinguished, leaving behind more coldness and loneliness
than was felt before.
Rather, love that lies like a soft
but firm hand on the ailing beings, ever unchanged in its
sympathy, without wavering, unconcerned with any response it
meets. Love that is comforting coolness to those who
burn with the fire of suffering and passion; that is
life-giving warmth to those abandoned in the cold desert of
loneliness, to those who are shivering in the frost of a
loveless world; to those whose hearts have become as if
empty and dry by the repeated calls for help, by deepest
despair.
Love, that is a sublime nobility
of heart and intellect which knows, understands and is ready
to help.
Love, that is strength and
gives strength: this is the highest love.
Love, which by the Enlightened One
was named "the liberation of the heart," "the most sublime
beauty": this is the highest love.
And what is the highest manifestation of
love?
To show to the world the path leading to
the end of suffering, the path pointed out, trodden, and
realized to perfection by Him, the Exalted One, the Buddha.
II. Compassion (Karuna)
The world suffers. But most men have
their eyes and ears closed. They do not see the unbroken
stream of tears flowing through life; they do not hear the
cry of distress continually pervading the world. Their own
little grief or joy bars their sight, deafens their ears.
Bound by selfishness, their hearts turn stiff and narrow.
Being stiff and narrow, how should they be able to strive
for any higher goal, to realize that only release from
selfish craving will effect their own freedom from
suffering?
It is compassion that removes the
heavy bar, opens the door to freedom, makes the narrow heart
as wide as the world. Compassion takes away from the
heart the inert weight, the paralyzing heaviness; it gives
wings to those who cling to the lowlands of self.
Through compassion the fact of
suffering remains vividly present to our mind, even at times
when we personally are free from it. It gives us the rich
experience of suffering, thus strengthening us to meet it
prepared, when it does befall us.
Compassion reconciles us to our
own destiny by showing us the life of others, often much
harder than ours.
Behold the endless caravan of beings, men
and beasts, burdened with sorrow and pain! The burden of
every one of them, we also have carried in bygone times
during the unfathomable sequence of repeated births. Behold
this, and open your heart to compassion!
And this misery may well be our own
destiny again! He who is without compassion now, will
one day cry for it. If sympathy with others is lacking, it
will have to be acquired through one's own long and painful
experience. This is the great law of life. Knowing this,
keep guard over yourself!
Beings, sunk in ignorance, lost in
delusion, hasten from one state of suffering to another, not
knowing the real cause, not knowing the escape from it. This
insight into the general law of suffering is the real
foundation of our compassion, not any isolated fact
of suffering.
Hence our compassion will also
include those who at the moment may be happy, but act with
an evil and deluded mind. In their present deeds we shall
foresee their future state of distress, and compassion
will arise.
The compassion of the wise man
does not render him a victim of suffering. His thoughts,
words and deeds are full of pity. But his heart does not
waver; unchanged it remains, serene and calm. How else
should he be able to help?
May such compassion arise in our
hearts! Compassion that is sublime nobility of heart
and intellect which knows, understands and is ready to help.
Compassion that is strength
and gives strength: this is highest compassion.
And what is the highest manifestation of
compassion?
To show to the world the path leading to
the end of suffering, the path pointed out, trodden and
realized to perfection by Him, the Exalted One, the Buddha.
III. Sympathetic Joy (Mudita)
Not only to compassion, but also to
joy with others open your heart!
Small, indeed, is the share of happiness
and joy allotted to beings! Whenever a little happiness
comes to them, then you may rejoice that at least one ray of
joy has pierced through the darkness of their lives, and
dispelled the gray and gloomy mist that enwraps their
hearts.
Your life will gain in joy by sharing the
happiness of others as if it were yours. Did you never
observe how in moments of happiness men's features change
and become bright with joy? Did you never notice how joy
rouses men to noble aspirations and deeds, exceeding their
normal capacity? Did not such experience fill your own heart
with joyful bliss? It is in your power to increase such
experience of sympathetic joy, by producing happiness
in others, by bringing them joy and solace.
Let us teach real joy to men! Many have
unlearned it. Life, though full of woe, holds also sources
of happiness and joy, unknown to most. Let us teach people
to seek and to find real joy within themselves and to
rejoice with the joy of others! Let us teach them to unfold
their joy to ever sublimer heights!
Noble and sublime joy is not foreign to
the Teaching of the Enlightened One. Wrongly the Buddha's
Teaching is sometimes considered to be a doctrine diffusing
melancholy. Far from it: the Dhamma leads step by step to an
ever purer and loftier happiness.
Noble and sublime joy is a helper on the
path to the extinction of suffering. Not he who is depressed
by grief, but one possessed of joy finds that serene
calmness leading to a contemplative state of mind. And only
a mind serene and collected is able to gain the liberating
wisdom.
The more sublime and noble the joy of
others is, the more justified will be our own sympathetic
joy. A cause for our joy with others is their
noble life securing them happiness here and in lives
hereafter. A still nobler cause for our joy with others
is their faith in the Dhamma, their understanding of the
Dhamma, their following the Dhamma. Let us give them the
help of the Dhamma! Let us strive to become more and
more able ourselves to render such help!
Sympathetic joy means a sublime
nobility of heart and intellect which knows, understands and
is ready to help.
Sympathetic joy that is
strength and gives strength: this is the highest joy.
And what is the highest manifestation of
sympathetic joy?
To show to the world the path leading to
the end of suffering, the path pointed out, trodden, and
realized to perfection by Him, the Exalted One, the Buddha.
IV. Equanimity (Upekkha)
Equanimity is a perfect,
unshakable balance of mind, rooted in insight.
Looking at the world around us, and
looking into our own heart, we see clearly how difficult it
is to attain and maintain balance of mind.
Looking into life we notice how it
continually moves between contrasts: rise and fall, success
and failure, loss and gain, honor and blame. We feel how our
heart responds to all this with happiness and sorrow,
delight and despair, disappointment and satisfaction, hope
and fear. These waves of emotion carry us up and fling us
down; and no sooner do we find rest, than we are in the
power of a new wave again. How can we expect to get a
footing on the crest of the waves? How can we erect the
building of our lives in the midst of this ever restless
ocean of existence, if not on the Island of Equanimity.
A world where that little share of
happiness allotted to beings is mostly secured after many
disappointments, failures and defeats;
a world where only the courage to start
anew, again and again, promises success;
a world where scanty joy grows amidst
sickness, separation and death;
a world where beings who were a short
while ago connected with us by sympathetic joy, are
at the next moment in want of our compassion — such a
world needs equanimity.
But the kind of equanimity required has
to be based on vigilant presence of mind, not on indifferent
dullness. It has to be the result of hard, deliberate
training, not the casual outcome of a passing mood. But
equanimity would not deserve its name if it had to be
produced by exertion again and again. In such a case it
would surely be weakened and finally defeated by the
vicissitudes of life. True equanimity, however, should be
able to meet all these severe tests and to regenerate its
strength from sources within. It will possess this power of
resistance and self-renewal only if it is rooted in insight.
What, now, is the nature of that insight?
It is the clear understanding of how all these vicissitudes
of life originate, and of our own true nature. We have to
understand that the various experiences we undergo result
from our kamma — our actions in thought, word and deed —
performed in this life and in earlier lives. Kamma is the
womb from which we spring (kamma-yoni), and whether
we like it or not, we are the inalienable "owners" of our
deeds (kamma-ssaka). But as soon as we have performed
any action, our control over it is lost: it forever remains
with us and inevitably returns to us as our due heritage
(kamma-dayada). Nothing that happens to us comes from an
"outer" hostile world foreign to ourselves; everything is
the outcome of our own mind and deeds. Because this
knowledge frees us from fear, it is the first basis of
equanimity. When, in everything that befalls us we only meet
ourselves, why should we fear?
If, however, fear or uncertainty should
arise, we know the refuge where it can be allayed: our good
deeds (kamma-patisarana). By taking this refuge,
confidence and courage will grow within us — confidence in
the protecting power of our good deeds done in the past;
courage to perform more good deeds right now, despite the
discouraging hardships of our present life. For we know that
noble and selfless deeds provide the best defense against
the hard blows of destiny, that it is never too late but
always the right time for good actions. If that refuge, in
doing good and avoiding evil, becomes firmly established
within us, one day we shall feel assured: "More and more
ceases the misery and evil rooted in the past. And this
present life — I try to make it spotless and pure. What else
can the future bring than increase of the good?" And from
that certainty our minds will become serene, and we shall
gain the strength of patience and equanimity to bear with
all our present adversities. Then our deeds will be our
friends (kamma-bandhu).
Likewise, all the various events of our
lives, being the result of our deeds, will also be our
friends, even if they bring us sorrow and pain. Our deeds
return to us in a guise that often makes them
unrecognizable. Sometimes our actions return to us in the
way that others treat us, sometimes as a thorough upheaval
in our lives; often the results are against our expectations
or contrary to our wills. Such experiences point out to us
consequences of our deeds we did not foresee; they render
visible half-conscious motives of our former actions which
we tried to hide even from ourselves, covering them up with
various pretexts. If we learn to see things from this angle,
and to read the message conveyed by our own experience, then
suffering, too, will be our friend. It will be a stern
friend, but a truthful and well-meaning one who teaches us
the most difficult subject, knowledge about ourselves, and
warns us against abysses towards which we are moving
blindly. By looking at suffering as our teacher and friend,
we shall better succeed in enduring it with equanimity.
Consequently, the teaching of kamma will give us a powerful
impulse for freeing ourselves from kamma, from those deeds
which again and again throw us into the suffering of
repeated births. Disgust will arise at our own craving, at
our own delusion, at our own propensity to create situations
which try our strength, our resistance and our equanimity.
The second insight on which equanimity
should be based is the Buddha's teaching of no-self (anatta).
This doctrine shows that in the ultimate sense deeds are not
performed by any self, nor do their results affect any self.
Further, it shows that if there is no self, we cannot speak
of "my own." It is the delusion of a self that creates
suffering and hinders or disturbs equanimity. If this or
that quality of ours is blamed, one thinks: "I am
blamed" and equanimity is shaken. If this or that work does
not succeed, one thinks: "My work has failed" and
equanimity is shaken. If wealth or loved ones are lost, one
thinks: "What is mine has gone" and equanimity is
shaken.
To establish equanimity as an unshakable
state of mind, one has to give up all possessive thoughts
of "mine," beginning with little things from which it is
easy to detach oneself, and gradually working up to
possessions and aims to which one's whole heart clings. One
also has to give up the counterpart to such thoughts, all
egoistic thoughts of "self," beginning with a small
section of one's personality, with qualities of minor
importance, with small weaknesses one clearly sees, and
gradually working up to those emotions and aversions which
one regards as the center of one's being. Thus detachment
should be practiced.
To the degree we forsake thoughts of
"mine" or "self" equanimity will enter our hearts. For how
can anything we realize to be foreign and void of a self
cause us agitation due to lust, hatred or grief? Thus the
teaching of no-self will be our guide on the path to
deliverance, to perfect equanimity.
Equanimity is the crown and culmination
of the four sublime states. But this should not be
understood to mean that equanimity is the negation of love,
compassion and sympathetic joy, or that it leaves them
behind as inferior. Far from that, equanimity includes and
pervades them fully, just as they fully pervade perfect
equanimity.
The
Inter-relations of the Four Sublime
States 
How, then, do these four sublime states
pervade and suffuse each other?
Unbounded love guards
compassion against turning into partiality, prevents it
from making discriminations by selecting and excluding and
thus protects it from falling into partiality or aversion
against the excluded side.
Love imparts to equanimity
its selflessness, its boundless nature and even its fervor.
For fervor, too, transformed and controlled, is part of
perfect equanimity, strengthening its power of keen
penetration and wise restraint.
Compassion prevents love
and sympathetic joy from forgetting that, while both
are enjoying or giving temporary and limited happiness,
there still exist at that time most dreadful states of
suffering in the world. It reminds them that their happiness
coexists with measureless misery, perhaps at the next
doorstep. It is a reminder to love and sympathetic
joy that there is more suffering in the world than they
are able to mitigate; that, after the effect of such
mitigation has vanished, sorrow and pain are sure to arise
anew until suffering is uprooted entirely at the attainment
of Nibbana. Compassion does not allow that love
and sympathetic joy shut themselves up against the
wide world by confining themselves to a narrow sector of it.
Compassion prevents love and sympathetic
joy from turning into states of self-satisfied
complacency within a jealously-guarded petty happiness.
Compassion stirs and urges love to widen its
sphere; it stirs and urges sympathetic joy to search
for fresh nourishment. Thus it helps both of them to grow
into truly boundless states (appamañña).
Compassion guards equanimity
from falling into a cold indifference, and keeps it from
indolent or selfish isolation. Until equanimity has
reached perfection, compassion urges it to enter
again and again the battle of the world, in order to be able
to stand the test, by hardening and strengthening itself.
Sympathetic joy holds
compassion back from becoming overwhelmed by the sight
of the world's suffering, from being absorbed by it to the
exclusion of everything else. Sympathetic joy
relieves the tension of mind, soothes the painful burning of
the compassionate heart. It keeps compassion away
from melancholic brooding without purpose, from a futile
sentimentality that merely weakens and consumes the strength
of mind and heart. Sympathetic joy develops
compassion into active sympathy.
Sympathetic joy gives to
equanimity the mild serenity that softens its stern
appearance. It is the divine smile on the face of the
Enlightened One, a smile that persists in spite of his deep
knowledge of the world's suffering, a smile that gives
solace and hope, fearlessness and confidence: "Wide open are
the doors to deliverance," thus it speaks.
Equanimity rooted in insight is
the guiding and restraining power for the other three
sublime states. It points out to them the direction they
have to take, and sees to it that this direction is
followed. Equanimity guards love and
compassion from being dissipated in vain quests and from
going astray in the labyrinths of uncontrolled emotion.
Equanimity, being a vigilant self-control for the sake
of the final goal, does not allow sympathetic joy to
rest content with humble results, forgetting the real aims
we have to strive for.
Equanimity, which means
"even-mindedness," gives to love an even, unchanging
firmness and loyalty. It endows it with the great virtue of
patience. Equanimity furnishes compassion with
an even, unwavering courage and fearlessness, enabling it to
face the awesome abyss of misery and despair which confront
boundless compassion again and again. To the active
side of compassion, equanimity is the calm and
firm hand led by wisdom — indispensable to those who want to
practice the difficult art of helping others. And here again
equanimity means patience, the patient devotion to
the work of compassion.
In these and other ways equanimity may be
said to be the crown and culmination of the other three
sublime states. The first three, if unconnected with
equanimity and insight, may dwindle away due to the lack of
a stabilizing factor. Isolated virtues, if unsupported by
other qualities which give them either the needed firmness
or pliancy, often deteriorate into their own characteristic
defects. For instance, loving-kindness, without energy and
insight, may easily decline to a mere sentimental goodness
of weak and unreliable nature. Moreover, such isolated
virtues may often carry us in a direction contrary to our
original aims and contrary to the welfare of others, too. It
is the firm and balanced character of a person that knits
isolated virtues into an organic and harmonious whole,
within which the single qualities exhibit their best
manifestations and avoid the pitfalls of their respective
weaknesses. And this is the very function of equanimity, the
way it contributes to an ideal relationship between all four
sublime states.
Equanimity is a perfect, unshakable
balance of mind, rooted in insight. But in its perfection
and unshakable nature equanimity is not dull, heartless and
frigid. Its perfection is not due to an emotional
"emptiness," but to a "fullness" of understanding, to its
being complete in itself. Its unshakable nature is not the
immovability of a dead, cold stone, but the manifestation of
the highest strength.
In what way, now, is equanimity
perfect and unshakable?
Whatever causes stagnation is here
destroyed, what dams up is removed, what obstructs is
destroyed. Vanished are the whirls of emotion and the
meanderings of intellect. Unhindered goes the calm and
majestic stream of consciousness, pure and radiant. Watchful
mindfulness (sati) has harmonized the warmth of faith
(saddha) with the penetrative keenness of wisdom (pañña);
it has balanced strength of will (viriya) with
calmness of mind (samadhi); and these five inner
faculties (indriya) have grown into inner forces (bala)
that cannot be lost again. They cannot be lost because they
do not lose themselves any more in the labyrinths of the
world (samsara), in the endless diffuseness of life
(papañca). These inner forces emanate from the mind
and act upon the world, but being guarded by mindfulness,
they nowhere bind themselves, and they return unchanged.
Love, compassion and sympathetic joy continue to emanate
from the mind and act upon the world, but being guarded by
equanimity, they cling nowhere, and return unweakened
and unsullied.
Thus within the arahant, the Liberated
One, nothing is lessened by giving, and he does not become
poorer by bestowing upon others the riches of his heart and
mind. The arahant is like the clear, well-cut crystal which,
being without stains, fully absorbs all the rays of light
and sends them out again, intensified by its concentrative
power. The rays cannot stain the crystal with their various
colors. They cannot pierce its hardness, nor disturb its
harmonious structure. In its genuine purity and strength,
the crystal remains unchanged. "Just as all the streams of
the world enter the great ocean, and all the waters of the
sky rain into it, but no increase or decrease of the great
ocean is to be seen" — even so is the nature of holy
equanimity.
Holy equanimity, or — as we may likewise
express it — the arahant endowed with holy equanimity, is
the inner center of the world. But this inner center should
be well distinguished from the numberless apparent centers
of limited spheres; that is, their so-called
"personalities," governing laws, and so on. All of these are
only apparent centers, because they cease to be centers
whenever their spheres, obeying the laws of impermanence,
undergo a total change of their structure; and consequently
the center of their gravity, material or mental, will shift.
But the inner center of the arahant's equanimity is
unshakable, because it is immutable. It is immutable because
it clings to nothing.
Says the Master:
For one who clings, motion exists; but
for one who clings not, there is no motion. Where no
motion is, there is stillness. Where stillness is, there
is no craving. Where no craving is, there is neither
coming nor going. Where no coming nor going is, there is
neither arising nor passing away. Where neither arising
nor passing away is, there is neither this world nor a
world beyond, nor a state between. This, verily, is the
end of suffering.
— Udana 8:3
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