Two days ago, on June 26, I turned 35—the age at which the historical Buddha reached the state of full awakening. Sometimes it feels I couldn’t be farther away from that goal—and yet I feel an unflinching sense of positivity, stemming from the fact that every mindstream (including, strangely enough, mine) is pervaded by the immensely wonderful nature of wakefulness. One just has to tap into that underlying stream and keep reconnecting to it until the state of recognition becomes constant. Of course, easier said than done!
Having reached this age, I am acutely aware of being in a bardo – a transitory state between two events. Although the bardo states are traditionally presented as 6 very specific “in-betweens”—as the transitory states of (1) living, (2) dreaming, (3) meditating, (4) dying, (5) abiding in post-mortem luminosity, and, finally, (6) becoming a new entity, each one of them also contains many sub-bardos. We are constantly moving between life and death (or death and then next rebirth), between jobs, between relationships, between houses, between one event and the other. Charles Dickens summarised the nature of our in-betweenish lives in The Old Curiosity Shop: “We are all going to the play, or coming from it”.
My transitory state, at the moment, means that I am temporarily travelling (to Mexico), but even outside of travels I do not currently have a “home” per se: I am merely a guest, in more ways than one. Strongly reliant on the kindness of others, I therefore want to make sure my life is somewhat meaningful. One of the fiction books from the Star Warslegendarium—a book I quite eagerly consumed in my teenage years—was suggesting one’s birthdays are an opportunity to reflect: has the previous year been spent in meaningful way? This idea stayed with me and has since informed my every birthday (even the ones that were, in my subjective assessment, less then ideal in terms of what transpired on them).
Such contemplation would, of course, raise further questions. What is a meaningful life, for example? There can be multiple answers, and the Mahāyāna Buddhist tradition certainly has its own interpretation. However, on a more universal level—transcending specific traditions or, perhaps, not requiring any specific affiliation at all—I quite like the recipe that, according to Dr. Robert Svoboda, was at the heart of his mentor Vimalananda’s nightly check in with himself:
Have I lived?
Have I loved?
Have I laughed?
(See a brief video explanation of these 3 questions here)
In providing my own definition on what to consider a meaningful way to live my life, I have to add certain components related to the unique nature of my service and my spiritual practice. One of these components is this: although there ideally should be no attachment to the results of one’s attempts to help, positive feedback related to our work is still quite encouraging. It is powerful to know that you’ve made someone’s life easier, than you’ve offered some peace or some hope, and that you are not simply shouting into the void, ore merely talking to yourself (with the best intentions).
However, that feedback is of secondary importance, and the “primary witness” (as it is described in the mind-training tradition of lojong practice) is our own heart, hopefully aware of its wishes and motivations. This is where the powerful conative practices of the Mahāyāna tradition—especially those related to generating bodhicitta, the enlightened compassionate attitude to wake up fully for the benefit of all—become particularly pertinent.
My own practice of bodhicitta, however basic at this stage, has been strongly supported by a powerful aspiration prayer, extracted from the words of the late Lama Zopa Rinpoche and lightly edited by his student Venerable Thubten Chodron. Called “Dedication for a meaningful life”, it has been my heart practice for many years something I recite again and again to supercharge my conative field and to affect all that I might do in the future. Somewhat facetiously, I even say that if people wanted a practice that would truly transform them, earnestly reciting this formula 100 000 (or even 10 000) times would certainly do the trick; could one embody these words and not be a saint? As I’m starting a new cycle (which can always turn out to be one of many—or my very last!), I am coming back to these words and humbly inviting you to contemplate them as well:
Whatever actions I do—eating, walking, sitting, sleeping, working, and so forth—and whatever I experience in life—up or down, happiness or pain, healthy or sick, harmony or discord, success or failure, wealth or poverty, praise or criticism—whether I am living or dying, or even born in a horrible rebirth; whether I live long or not—may my life be beneficial for all sentient beings. The main purpose of my life is not simply to be rich, respected, famous, healthy, and happy. The meaning of my life is to benefit all sentient beings. Therefore, from now on, may whatever actions I do be beneficial for all beings. May whatever I experience in life—happiness or suffering—be dedicated to actualizing the path to awakening. May whatever I do, say, or think benefit all sentient beings and help them to attain full awakening quickly.