When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

Three techniques can be used when life becomes difficult. The first is called “no more struggle” (156). With this method, one accepts whatever confronts them. Instead of resisting, one welcomes the unpleasant as if it were an honored guest.

The second method is “using poison as medicine” (158). In tonglen, the student breathes in from others any of three poisons: “passion” (craving and addiction), “aggression,” and “ignorance” (denial and avoidance) (158). By doing this, the poisons become teachers that enhance the practitioner’s compassion. The tonglen student then breathes out a sense of space and freshness for all and the wish for their awakening. All trouble thus becomes the path to enlightenment.

The third method regards all happenings as “enlightened wisdom.” One moves toward, rather than away from, the things they consider negative, like pain and death. Self-doubt and shame cease to be wrong; they’re part of who one is, and a person can be friendly toward them.

The three methods teach that chaos and problems are part of the essence of life. They also help people to lighten up and regain a sense of humor about the vicissitudes of life.

People put things off, thinking there’s plenty of time, but time is short, and change must happen now. The Vajrayana school uses samaya, a pact between teacher and student that commits them to attaining enlightenment regardless of obstacles. Ironically, what appears to be a choice is actually something already achieved: Students search for what they already have. The life they’re leading is what they’re searching for. The search blinds them to their perfection. They’re already awake; their search is choiceless.

In looking and listening without judgment, people see the world as vivid and simple. Similarly, one’s thoughts, no longer tasked with solving everything, become focused and clear. When one desires to change things, they break samaya; when they notice the desire, samaya is repaired.

People make commitments but leave themselves an out. As a young woman, the author visited New Mexico sweat lodges, where she always sat near the door in case she panicked. Knowing she could leave, she never did, but the real test was to sit farther in, where she couldn’t escape. When a person can’t escape, they must face reality, and that’s when someone really sees. In samaya, one can’t escape because the teacher is always looking over their shoulder.

Marpa, a spiritual ancestor to Trungpa Rinpoche, took on Milarepa as a student. Milarepa killed many people and wished to repent; he entered samaya with Marpa, who for many years made Milarepa build towers and tear them down again. This also tore down Milarepa’s resistance; when he was “naked,” or had nothing more to lose, the transmission of the teachings began in earnest. Milarepa became a great Tibetan holy man.

Meditation is a miniature way of binding oneself to reality; with samaya, one must trust the teacher before they place themself in his keeping. Thinking one has a choice is like burnishing their ego; a spiritual warrior, though, ultimately takes the leap of trust.

During a crisis, one may feel that meditation or dharma study isn’t enough. Mental health counseling is a useful tool for some people, but the dharma itself, properly used, can transform anything. The dharma isn’t a tool to measure a person but a practice that one can come to trust even with nightmares.

The author once ran into severe money problems. She began to panic, but her training kicked in and she caught herself and decided not to try to fix everything, even if that meant disaster. She got through it.

Problems stem not from being bad, but from misunderstanding the world. It’s already okay the way it is; when a person relaxes into that knowledge, their actions become naturally appropriate. Problems cease being dramatic and instead are solvable. Even a moment of noticing this every few weeks will help a person to let go of all the baggage and “stepping into new territory” (184).

The purpose of study is to discover that the path one is on is the place one wants to be. This path makes itself up as it goes; thus, “the source of wisdom is whatever is going to happen to us today” (186). What a person does now creates the future: Cultivating anger and sadness leads to more later on, while feeling at home and kindly toward oneself and others leads to more of the same.

When a problem arises, rather than trying to solve it, a person can ask it what it wants to teach them. In that spirit, all problems become workable.

Twenty years after the book was first published, the author believes that the “Difficult Times” in its subtitle have gotten worse: “refugee crises, growing economic disparity, environmental upheavals, political gridlock, ISIS. Alienation, depression, and anxiety” (191). Electronic devices train people to distract themselves.

In 200, Hopi elders spoke of a river running very fast, with frightened people clinging to the shore for fear of being torn apart. Those who dive in, though, will find each other and “celebrate.” Many people have responded with increased altruism, taking action in the manner of bodhisattvas. The internet contains many courses on Buddhist meditation. People can let go of possessiveness and relax together amid the unpredictable. They can “Offer chaos a cup of tea” (192).

The author offers a benediction: “May the Buddha’s wisdom continue to spread and flourish for the benefit of all the beings in this unpredictable, heartbreaking, exhilarating world” (192).