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by Thanissaro Bhikkhu
Karma is one of those words we don't translate. Its basic
meaning is simple enough — action — but because of the weight
the Buddha's teachings give to the role of action, the Sanskrit
word karma packs in so many implications that the English
word action can't carry all its luggage. This is why we've
simply airlifted the original word into our vocabulary.
But when we try unpacking the connotations the word carries now
that it has arrived in everyday usage, we find that most of its
luggage has gotten mixed up in transit. In the eyes of most Americans,
karma functions like fate — bad fate, at that: an inexplicable,
unchangeable force coming out of our past, for which we are somehow
vaguely responsible and powerless to fight. "I guess it's just my
karma," I've heard people sigh when bad fortune strikes with such
force that they see no alternative to resigned acceptance. The fatalism
implicit in this statement is one reason why so many of us are repelled
by the concept of karma, for it sounds like the kind of callous
myth-making that can justify almost any kind of suffering or injustice
in the status quo: "If he's poor, it's because of his karma." "If
she's been raped, it's because of her karma." From this it seems
a short step to saying that he or she deserves to suffer,
and so doesn't deserve our help.
This misperception comes from the fact that the Buddhist concept
of karma came to the West at the same time as non-Buddhist concepts,
and so ended up with some of their luggage. Although many Asian
concepts of karma are fatalistic, the early Buddhist concept was
not fatalistic at all. In fact, if we look closely at early Buddhist
ideas of karma, we'll find that they give even less importance to
myths about the past than most modern Americans do.
For the early Buddhists, karma was non-linear. Other Indian schools
believed that karma operated in a straight line, with actions from
the past influencing the present, and present actions influencing
the future. As a result, they saw little room for free will. Buddhists,
however, saw that karma acts in feedback loops, with the present
moment being shaped both by past and by present actions; present
actions shape not only the future but also the present. This constant
opening for present input into the causal process makes free will
possible. This freedom is symbolized in the imagery the Buddhists
used to explain the process: flowing water. Sometimes the flow from
the past is so strong that little can be done except to stand fast,
but there are also times when the flow is gentle enough to be diverted
in almost any direction.
So, instead of promoting resigned powerlessness, the early Buddhist
notion of karma focused on the liberating potential of what the
mind is doing with every moment. Who you are — what you come from
— is not anywhere near as important as the mind's motives for what
it is doing right now. Even though the past may account for many
of the inequalities we see in life, our measure as human beings
is not the hand we've been dealt, for that hand can change at any
moment. We take our own measure by how well we play the hand we've
got. If you're suffering, you try not to continue the unskillful
mental habits that would keep that particular karmic feedback going.
If you see that other people are suffering, and you're in a position
to help, you focus not on their karmic past but your karmic opportunity
in the present: Someday you may find yourself in the same predicament
that they're in now, so here's your opportunity to act in the way
you'd like them to act toward you when that day comes.
This belief that one's dignity is measured, not by one's past,
but by one's present actions, flew right in the face of the Indian
traditions of caste-based hierarchies, and explains why early Buddhists
had such a field day poking fun at the pretensions and mythology
of the brahmans. As the Buddha pointed out, a brahman could be a
superior person not because he came out of a brahman womb, but only
if he acted with truly skillful intentions.
We read the early Buddhist attacks on the caste system, and aside
from their anti-racist implications, they often strike us as quaint.
What we fail to realize is that they strike right at the heart of
our myths about our own past: our obsession with defining who we
are in terms of where we come from — our race, ethnic heritage,
gender, socio-economic background, sexual preference — our modern
tribes. We put inordinate amounts of energy into creating and maintaining
the mythology of our tribe so that we can take vicarious pride in
our tribe's good name. Even when we become Buddhists, the tribe
comes first. We demand a Buddhism that honors our myths.
From the standpoint of karma, though, where we come from is old
karma, over which we have no control. What we "are" is a nebulous
concept at best — and pernicious at worst, when we use it to find
excuses for acting on unskillful motives. The worth of a tribe lies
only in the skillful actions of its individual members. Even when
those good people belong to our tribe, their good karma is theirs,
not ours. And, of course, every tribe has its bad members, which
means that the mythology of the tribe is a fragile thing. To hang
onto anything fragile requires a large investment of passion, aversion,
and delusion, leading inevitably to more unskillful actions on into
the future.
So the Buddhist teachings on karma, far from being a quaint relic
from the past, are a direct challenge to a basic thrust — and basic
flaw — in our culture. Only when we abandon our obsession with finding
vicarious pride in our tribal past, and can take actual pride in
the motives that underlie our present actions, can we say that the
word karma, in its Buddhist sense, has recovered its luggage.
And when we open the luggage, we'll find that it's brought us a
gift: the gift we give ourselves and one another when we drop our
myths about who we are, and can instead be honest about what we're
doing with each moment — at the same time making the effort to do
it right.
Suggested Further Reading
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Source: Copyright © 2000 Thanissaro Bhikkhu.
Reproduced and reformatted from Access to Insight edition
© 2000 For free distribution. This work may be republished,
reformatted, reprinted, and redistributed in any medium.
It is the author's wish, however, that any such republication
and redistribution be made available to the public on a
free and unrestricted basis and that translations and other
derivative works be clearly marked as such. |
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