Of all the teachings of Buddha, two of the most famous (at least to laypersons) are that desire is the cause of sorrow and one must follow the middle path and live a life of moderation.
The Bhagavad Gita, one of the most important texts of Hindu religion and philosophy, is famous for the shloka karmanyevaadhikaaraste maa pahelshu kadaachanan which translates to saying one only has right over one’s actions, not over the fruits of one’s actions. Do your duty, the Gita urges.
These sayings are so obviously correct and so obviously wrong, so much can be read into them, that it is difficult to understand what exactly to make of them.
At one level, it is so clearly obvious that desire is the cause of sorrow, and that wanting things deeply leads to pain. At another level, though, the message that these teachings seem to convey is that desiring is a weakness, that to desire is to make oneself vulnerable to sorrow, that to seek fruits from one’s action is to make oneself vulnerable to disappointment. Thus, a possible interpretation of these teachings is detachment. Detachment is different from renunciation. Renunciation means leaving the material world in spirit. Detachment means being there, but not quite being there.
Very obvious, very correct, and yet… very wrong.
Very wrong because it is so easy to mis-interpret, it is so easy to just disengage and shut out reality in the name of detachment, it is easy to block oneself from the world in the name of becoming free of it. And yet, this freedom only seeks to numb the effect of problems, it doesn’t solve them.
Very correct because the way the preachers meant it wasn’t so simplistic. What the Buddha meant when he said desire is the cause of sorrow was not: do not desire. The Buddha did not say it is wrong to dream, to strive, to give one’s heart to a cause. The Buddha himself gave his heart to a cause: the cause of spreading his words and ideas to spread his ideas to the masses. He invested a lot in them. He had a desire to bring about a change in the lives of people. He had a deep desire to enjoy his own life and to help others enjoy life.
What, then, was the Buddha’s message?
While I cannot talk authoritatively on what the Buddha intended to convey, here is the message that I get from reading what the Buddha did: he basically said, do not attach your self-worth, your sense of rightness of the universe, your sense of meaning in life, to the events around you. Be replete with self-confidence and with the confidence of your ideals and your values so much so that external events do not create a dent in your self-assessment. With that in your arsenal, go ahead and do what you want to do.
The serene smile on a monk’s face is not a smile achieved through detachment and disengagement, it is a smile attained through active engagement, through a deep heart-felt desire to do things, and a lot of self-love and a desire to maintain one’s equanimity and not let it get affected by events around one.
When the Buddha asked us to enjoy every grain we eat, he did not say that it is wrong to have excess and abundance. Rather, he urged us against mindless craving for things without actually enjoying them. The problem of craving is not a problem of abundance — it is a problem of perceived scarcity and insecurity. The Buddha did not urge us to follow a middle path because of an inherent virtue in having less, he taught us to think big even in moderate circumstances, to see the greatness in small things.
A person who sees the greatness in small things can enjoy the big things even better.
The Buddha did not ask us to shun material possessions, rather he taught us to enjoy them. The Buddha did not ask us to sacrifice our dreams, rather he taught us to live them.
Once, the Buddha and his followers went to a village, and a farmer there said: “We grow food and the food fills people’s stomachs, what purpose do you serve society?” The Buddha replied, “We create food for thought for you people to chew for, and in return we ask for your food”. The Buddha, when going around with his begging bowl, did not think of himself as a beggar; the grains of rice that were bestowed to him were a tribute to him, not alms.
Disengagement and detachment are easy, but incorrect, interpretations of the Buddhist philosophy. An even more dangerous version, though, is to be simply satisfied with following the letter of this philosophy. The Buddha taught us to enjoy breathing. Suppose you learn to enjoy breathing. What next? Is everything over? The Buddha taught us to enjoy every morsel of food. Suppose we start doing that. What next? have we attained nirvana?
The problem with Buddhism is not that it teaches anything wrong but that it is only one half of the journey forward — it teaches us to enjoy the things in life, to banish the fears and insecurities inherent in each one of us, to sport a smile from the heart and the mind. But there is a crucial second part which it does not focus so much attention on. That’s the part where one uses the personal freedom and personal inner wealth obtained to fulfil one’s dreams. To pursue ambitions, to relentlessly set goals and achieve them, that in a past era would have been a source of stress, discomfort and anxiety.
Buddhist philosophies are thus, in reality, a vaccination against many of the perils that lay ahead in the pursuit of one’s dreams. They are a means, not the ultimate goal. Unfortunately, this aspect of these philosophies is not brought out so strongly. A probably reason for this is that a large number of people struggle even to achieve the stage where they have completely imbibed the philosophies strongly enough.
Buddhist philosophy does not encourage mediocrity or a desireless state, it asks one to get rid of the blocks that prevent one from fearlessly desiring.
Actually, most so-called followers of the “middle path” are people who have experienced some kind of hurt or disillusionment following the “extreme” path. Disillusionment could be with a loved one, with a career opportunity, with a cherished goal, or with anything one held dear. A person them learns from such disillusionment that moderation and limitation are the routes to success.
What the person fails to realize is that, with an increased self-confidence and a greater understanding of oneself, he or she can revive the dreams, the passions and the relentless pursuit of goals.
Let’s now look at the Bhagavad Gita, and Krishna’s famous injunction to Arjuna: You only have a right over one’s actions, not over the fruits of those actions. Let’s recall the context in which this injunction was made. A frightened and depressed Arjuna, faltering on the battle lines, afraid of killing his own relatives and kinsmen, sought moral guidance from his charioteer, friend and guide, Krishna. Krishna at that time, had to offer Arjuna a package that would address both his immediate and his long-term confusions and needs. Since at the tiem it was the result of his actions that perturned Arjuna the most, Krishna asked Arjuna to disengage himself from the results and perform the actions he was duty-bound to do.
The question: is this the philosophy that one should follow throughout life? Is this the philosophy to follow when pursuing one’s dreams, when one’s actions are taken precisely because of the results one seeks for them, when one has to constantly seek and change course depending on the outcomes of one’s actions? Is this the philosophy that one can afford to follow when one has a deep personal and emotional investment in the outcomes?
The Gita is written for a world where people worked to serve society, where the actions of individuals were governed by the “role” they fulfilled in society. To interpret it in the modern context wher eeach individual is asked to pursue an individual destiny, we need to reshape its teachings to a modern context where we don’t want to be bound by “roles”.
The basic message of the Gita, then, is to not attach one’s self-worth to the outcomes of one’s actions. To take an example, performance in a critical ceritificate examination or competitive examination, while critical in determining one’s future options, should not be viewed as a way of measuring one’s own self-worth. A single careless mistake in such an examination should not undermine one’s confidence in oneself. The rank should not be a determinant of where one places oneself. Nonetheless, it is important to prepare for such examinations, to give one’s best, and use the results of such examinations for an analysis of where one’s flaws lie. It is also completely natural and acceptable to feel glad or disappointed based on the outcomes of such examinations.
The Gita is important, thus, for goals that have been thrust externally upon one. When it comes to goals one sets internally for oneself, the picture changes. Here, one is deeply involved with the results, the way things shape, and one may use them as crucial determinants of one’s feeling of confidence in oneself. For pursuing these dreams, thus, it is important to have such a store of goodwill with oneself and confidence in oneself that one can handle such setbacks without lowering one’s self-esteem. Which is where the ideals of Buddhism come in.
In short, then, Buddhism and the Gita are not valid reasons to stop dreaming, to give up the pursuit of one’s goals, to stop pursuing excellence. They are not injunctions to follow the middle path. Rather, they help to provide shock-absorbers that make erstwhile difficult terrain easier to negotiate, by eliminating the sorrows fears and insecurities that often come in the way of realizing our dreams.