Conceptual bodhicitta has another drawback: it leaves us feeling deeply conflicted and miserable. Although we have generated bodhicitta only at the conceptual level, our minds remain fundamentally self-centered. As a result, when we try to benefit others, our hearts are actually unwilling to do so, and this inner resistance gives rise to suffering.
For example, when we encounter a beggar on the street, our conceptual bodhicitta tells us, "A bodhisattva should give alms." Otherwise, we feel we are not acting like a bodhisattva. Yet our real thoughts are: "Is this person a scammer?" or "If I give them my money, what about me?" The mind immediately becomes torn.
Likewise, in our spiritual practice, we know conceptually that we ought to practice for the sake of sentient beings. Yet when we honestly examine ourselves, we find that we are still practicing mainly for our own benefit. We then become conflicted again, feeling disappointed in ourselves and overwhelmed with discouragement.
All this suffering arises because our minds are not aligned with our conceptual understanding. We have failed to bring knowledge and conduct into harmony. Conceptually, we all know that we should benefit sentient beings. We can even recite by heart His Holiness's teaching: "If you wish to benefit yourself in the long run, the essential instruction is to benefit others in the short term." Yet when it actually requires sacrificing our own interests for the sake of others, self-grasping immediately refuses to cooperate.
Genuine bodhicitta is entirely different. One truly rejoices in another person's happiness, and benefiting others no longer feels burdensome. Imagine two people who both need a sum of money. A self-centered person finds happiness only in obtaining the money personally; another person's gain or loss has nothing to do with them. Someone who has genuinely generated bodhicitta, however, discovers that seeing another person receive the money brings even greater joy than receiving it oneself. This is what it means for understanding and conduct to become one—for the concept of bodhicitta to be fully aligned with the mind itself.
For someone who possesses only conceptual bodhicitta, happiness still lies in obtaining the money personally, while the concept tells them they ought to give it away. When the money goes to someone else, it feels as though a piece of their heart has been torn out. Carrying out virtuous actions with such mixed motivations makes those virtues impure, and may even undermine much of the merit accumulated through our wholesome deeds. If we observe ourselves carefully, isn't this often exactly what happens when we release animals, engage in practice, or perform many other virtuous actions?
Nowadays, many practitioners are preoccupied with being able to sit in meditation for long periods or with attaining lofty meditative states. Their attention is constantly fixed on achieving something within their own mental continuum. But if you examine yourself carefully, do these aspirations truly accord with our fundamental vow: "For the benefit of all sentient beings, I aspire to attain Buddhahood"? Perhaps they do—or perhaps that aspiration disappears the moment we finish reciting the verse. If so, practice inevitably becomes difficult.
The Bodhicaryāvatāra (The Way of the Bodhisattva) teaches that the merit of bodhicitta is immeasurable. Yet if these benefits never seem to manifest, is the text deceiving us, or are we deceiving ourselves? The answer is that we are deceiving ourselves. We do not truly know what our own minds are doing. Consequently, our practice generates little real merit—certainly not the merit of the Mahāyāna—and our progress remains painfully slow. We often complain that our mental continuum is immature or that our faculties are poor, but the greatest deficiency is actually our self-deception regarding our motivation.
Sometimes, as Buddhists, we are actually less consistent than ordinary worldly people. Worldly people seek wealth, power, and enjoyment, and they pursue these aims wholeheartedly, creating karma without hesitation and with complete conviction. We, on the other hand, proclaim bodhicitta and speak of benefiting others, while inwardly striving with all our might to benefit ourselves.
The result is constant inner conflict and suffering, leaving many practitioners looking perpetually burdened. Life is already difficult enough, yet after studying Buddhism we become even more miserable. The reason is simple: we have not truly practiced what the teachings instruct, nor have we genuinely transformed our mental continuum accordingly.
The principle itself is simple, yet we find it extraordinarily difficult to put into practice. Powerful selfishness and self-grasping dominate the mind so completely that, without any deliberate thought, countless attachments surge forth, and we immediately begin worrying about ourselves. Even if we are moved to tears while cultivating bodhicitta during meditation, the moment real situations arise, we revert to our old habits and instead hope that others will generate bodhicitta toward us. This is, more often than not, exactly how things unfold.
As a result, our practice never truly takes hold. In reality, we are harming no one but ourselves. We have encountered such precious Buddhadharma and such an excellent spiritual teacher. We have invested so much time and energy, yet fail to take the teachings seriously. If this continues, we may ultimately bring about our own downfall, even to the point of falling into the hell realms, where there will no longer be any opportunity for regret.
—Excerpted and adapted from Genuine Bodhicitta and Conceptual Bodhicitta.
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
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