The Path of Compassion: A Biography of Hor shul Khenpo Gelek Palsang Rinpoche — Practice — Chapter Two: The Three Supreme Methods (Khenpo Yeshe Phuntsok)

Chapter Two: The Three Supreme Methods

Taught by Khenpo Yeshe Phuntsok

Arousing bodhicitta has two parts: I. A supplementary explanation of the Three Supreme Methods; II. Classifications of motivation. Every virtuous action we perform must possess the Three Supreme Methods if it is to become an accumulation for attaining buddhahood.

I. A Supplementary Explanation of the Three Supreme Methods

Because the Three Supreme Methods are extremely important, the relevant Dharma principles will be explained here as a supplement. The Three Supreme Methods are three supreme ways of performing virtue. Whether one knows these methods and can apply them produces completely different results in virtuous conduct. If one masters the methods and puts them into practice, the power of their pith instructions can make every virtuous action yield an excellent result. Conversely, without mastering the methods, even performing a great deal of virtue will not necessarily be supreme. Brewing wine is an example. If one knows the secret formula, the wine will be exceptionally mellow and sweet; without the essential technique, no amount of brewing will produce the same quality. Method is therefore extremely important.

The lineage gurus summarized the way to perform virtue as the Three Supreme Methods and transmitted them to later generations. This pith instruction is indispensable if one wishes every action to become a supreme virtue of the Mahāyāna, so it should be practiced continually.

Although people hear the same teaching on the Three Supreme Methods, their capacities differ. Some can put it into practice and others cannot; some practice it for only three days after hearing it, while others follow it for a long time; some gain only slight benefit, while others gain boundless benefit; some treat it merely as knowledge, while others apply the Three Supreme Methods at all times and in all places, making every virtue supreme. Because the attitudes with which people seek the Dharma vary so widely, their results are also entirely different.

The Three Supreme Methods are the supreme preparation of arousing motivation, the supreme main practice free from reference points, and the supreme conclusion of dedication. Every virtuous Dharma has three stages: preparation, main practice, and conclusion. If one grasps the essential point at each stage, the action becomes a virtue of immeasurable merit.

What does “supreme” mean? From the perspective of the cause, this method makes one’s roots of virtue far superior to ordinary roots of virtue. From the perspective of the result, applying these essential points allows even a tiny virtuous action to yield a result surpassing that of ordinary virtuous karma. With these Three Supreme Methods, virtue becomes supreme; without them, it remains mediocre and inferior. Ordinary charcoal, sulfur, nitrates, and other substances, for example, can form a powerful explosive when mixed in certain proportions. If they are not combined in the correct proportions, they lack that powerful explosive force. In the same way, whether a virtuous action is embraced by the Three Supreme Methods produces a vast difference in its efficacy.

The supreme preparation means preparing properly before performing a virtue. To make the virtuous action supreme, one should strive to gather the factors for its success. At a basic level, the supreme main practice means remaining fully attentive while acting virtuously; at a profound level, it means resting free from reference points and performing every virtue without clinging to any characteristic. The Diamond Sūtra says to perform all virtues without a notion of self, person, being, or life span. The supreme conclusion means gathering together the roots of virtue one has created and making them vast and inexhaustible through dedication.

The Three Supreme Methods are a great pith instruction. No matter what kind of virtue one practices, applying them has the effect of turning iron into gold: even a speck of virtue can be transformed into an accumulation for attaining buddhahood.

What difference does it make whether the Three Supreme Methods embrace a virtuous action? Along the Sichuan–Tibet Highway, for example, one often sees Tibetans making full prostrations all the way to Lhasa to venerate the Jowo image at the Jokhang Temple. Undeterred by wind or rain, they travel thousands of miles on pilgrimage while prostrating. Most people consider this an immense virtue. Judged by physical conduct, there are indeed few virtuous actions in the world more exceptional. Yet witnessing such an ascetic scene often raises a question: are these pilgrims performing their prostrations with a powerful motivation? If the Three Supreme Methods do not embrace the action, it does not count as an exceptionally supreme virtue. The magnitude of virtue is established solely by the mind. If the pilgrims’ motivation is vast, that makes an excellent action better still. If their motivation is not vast, then although their hardship produces a substantial root of virtue, the action ultimately does not belong among the most supreme virtues.

Or consider offering just one cup of water before the Buddha. Anyone can perform this virtue, and it is generally regarded as minor. Yet if the person making the offering possesses the supreme preparation, main practice, and conclusion, dependent arising is unfailing and the act will certainly become an exceptionally supreme virtue.

Thus a virtuous action that appears immense may not actually be immense. Donating a large sum to the Saṅgha, building a temple, relieving poverty, or releasing animals, for example, becomes better still when embraced by the Three Supreme Methods. Without them, however, its merit may not be great.

The magnitude of virtue is not judged by external appearance, because all phenomena are mind-only, not appearance-only. A sūtra says, “Phenomena depend upon dependent arising and abide upon intention.” When an apparently minor virtue is performed with a vast virtuous mind, its root of virtue becomes vast. When an apparently immense virtue is performed with a meager virtuous mind, its root of virtue is likewise meager. Thus whether virtue is embraced by the Three Supreme Methods produces this enormous difference in the result.

The meaning of the supreme preparation will now be explained in detail.

Preparation means what is done before performing a virtuous action; every activity has a preparation. When cooking a dish, for example, washing and cutting the vegetables belong to the preparation. Once these are done, one can smoothly enter the main task of cooking. In fact, whether the main practice is supreme and effective depends upon the preceding preparation.

What kind of preparation is meant here? It is a preparation of the mind. When offering flowers before the Buddha, buying the flowers and pouring water are also preparatory activities, but the most important preparation is to adjust one’s intention. One should make the mind of offering to the Buddha as virtuous, vast, and pure as possible. If one’s intention is wrong and one makes the offering with a distracted, narrow mind mixed with craving and anger, the act will not only fail to produce great merit but may even create wrongdoing.

When performing virtue, some people often act like madmen, jumping up and doing it with no preparation in their minds. This lacks the preparation. We should undertake every virtue calmly and steadily, first calling forth a virtuous mind. If the mind is not virtuous, how could there be virtuous action? Inner preparation at the outset is therefore more important than anything else.

II. Classifications of Motivation. This has three parts: 1. Nonvirtuous motivation; 2. Neutral motivation; 3. Virtuous motivation. Motivation can be virtuous, nonvirtuous, or neutral.

I. Nonvirtuous Motivation

If the motive for performing virtue is to seek the perfections of this life, it is nonvirtuous. If, for example, one makes offerings to the Saṅgha solely to seek protection for one’s family, prosperity in business, and so forth, the motivation is nonvirtuous.

Someone may wonder, “How can a virtuous action have a nonvirtuous motivation?”

Answer: There is a particular intent behind classifying it as nonvirtuous:

First, the karmic result of the virtue is extremely small, so it is called nonvirtuous because of its smallness.

Every virtue follows the mind’s intention, not the external appearance; the magnitude of the virtue also depends upon the magnitude of the intention.

Suppose, for example, that someone offers thirty thousand yuan to the Saṅgha while thinking only that a certain business venture should succeed. Let us examine the scope of that person’s mind. In terms of the object, he seeks good fortune only for himself, excluding every being other than “me.” In terms of time, he thinks only of the very short period until the business succeeds. If the venture lasts one month from beginning to end, he seeks only the benefit of that one month and never considers a more distant future. In terms of what he seeks, he wishes only for the venture to succeed and gives no thought whatsoever to higher rebirth in future lives, liberation, buddhahood, freeing beings, rebirth in the Western Pure Land of Sukhāvatī, or anything else. The mind is like a skillful painter: whatever it depicts is what appears. Since the scope of this mind is so narrow that it focuses only on one “self,” only on one month of this year in this life, and only on the success of one business venture, the result produced by such a mind naturally cannot be vast.

Although the person offers tens of thousands of yuan to the Saṅgha and the monastics dedicate the merit properly, how could so narrow a motivation ripen into other results? Dependent arising is unfailing. Sowing only on the eastern mountain cannot produce sprouts on the western mountain. Since the mind seeks only a small, immediate benefit in this life and excludes everything else, it can ripen only a small virtuous result.

Second, seeking only the perfections of this life can easily create causes and conditions for the lower realms after those perfections are attained, and is therefore called “nonvirtuous.”

Suppose that to dispel an obstacle to longevity, someone asks for a divination and, as instructed, invites the Saṅgha to recite a ritual properly. The result does extend that person’s life. But is a longer life necessarily good? It has some temporary significance, but over the long term its fortune or misfortune is uncertain. If, during ten added years, the person commits many misdeeds—killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying, slandering the sacred Dharma, and so forth—then prolonging the life does more harm than good; dying ten years earlier would have been better. Thus performing virtue solely for this life often becomes, when viewed over the long term, a cause for falling into the lower realms.

Does this mean that reciting a longevity ritual caused the person to fall into the lower realms? The motive for reciting the longevity ritual was to extend the life, and through the blessing of the supreme ritual and the Saṅgha, a virtuous result did indeed ripen; the ritual did not plant a cause for the lower realms. After the life was extended, however, afflictions arose and the person created misdeeds. These conditions caused the fall. A good result is of course also possible: if the person abandons wrongdoing and practices virtue during those ten years, the extension has meaning.

For ordinary beings, however, seeking only health, longevity, and the like in this life can easily become a condition for committing nonvirtue and falling into the lower realms. Someone may, for example, recite a wealth-deity ritual and mantra solely to become rich in this life. Without sufficient merit, the wish may not be fulfilled. Even if it is, the person may create many misdeeds while accumulating or after acquiring the wealth, often resulting in a later fall. Viewed in terms of the long-term result, performing virtue to seek the perfections of this life has many faults and is therefore called nonvirtuous.

Someone may think, “While living in the world, we inevitably wish for health, longevity, wealth, safety, success, and favorable circumstances in this life. If we should not seek them through virtue, how should we seek them?” To wish for longevity, wealth, and so forth, one should indeed pray to the Three Jewels and perform virtue. The point here is not to prohibit this, but to question the inferior motivation that seeks only this life. If one can instead arouse the great resolve to attain buddhahood for the benefit of beings, everything is included within it and nothing further need be sought, for this motivation alone already encompasses immediate health, longevity, and the like.

If one seeks only this life, then no matter how diligently one acts, the virtue remains small. A faucet opened wide produces a large flow of water; opened only slightly, it produces a small flow. In the same way, when a virtuous action is performed with a vast motivation, its root of virtue is vast; when the motivation is narrow, the virtue is narrow. No matter how many virtues one performs solely for peace in the family during this life or a single year, they remain only small roots of virtue. Once wise people understand how to transform roots of virtue, they should apply the method skillfully. At the very least, virtue should be performed with future lives as its aim.

II. Neutral Motivation

A mind that is neither virtuous nor nonvirtuous is neutral. This means performing virtue with no aim in mind: neither seeking health and longevity in this life nor freedom from suffering and happiness in future lives, but merely joining the crowd, following others, and performing virtue only with body and speech. This is a virtuous action performed with a neutral mind.

One may, for example, eat tsampa, talk, and turn a prayer wheel all at once. There is merit in this, but when the action is embraced by a neutral mind, its root of virtue is indeed not great. Adjusting one’s motivation is therefore the first priority. (Of course, in ordinary mantra recitation, one should still try to hold a mālā in the left hand and turn a prayer wheel with the right.)

Most ordinary householders lack the merit to practice virtue continually. Even when they perform some, it generally falls into one of two kinds: either they seek only the eight worldly concerns of this life, or they act merely to go through the motions. Their virtuous actions are already few; if their motivation is also narrow and seeks only this life, or if they act with a neutral mind, the situation is more pitiable still. We should therefore transform nonvirtuous and neutral minds into virtuous minds as much as possible. Whether karma is virtuous or nonvirtuous depends upon one’s resolve. If the mind forms no intention and performs virtue in a neutral state, the action cannot become a great virtue, though it is not entirely without merit. Ordinary people often perform virtue in a neutral state, merely going through the motions or acting distractedly and carelessly. When committing wrongdoing, however, their motivation is exceptionally forceful, and they easily create severe negative karma. We must therefore pay particular attention in daily life.

III. Virtuous Motivation. This has three parts: 1. Lesser virtuous motivation; 2. Middling virtuous motivation; 3. Greater virtuous motivation. Just as the ten fingers differ in thickness, virtuous motivations are of greater, middling, and lesser kinds. 1. Lesser Virtuous Motivation

A lesser virtuous motivation is the intention to perform virtue in pursuit of favorable conditions in future lives. If one’s aim is to avoid the lower realms in the next life and be reborn as a human or deva, then regardless of the kind or amount of virtue performed, one is practicing only lesser virtue.

On the one hand, because cause and effect are unfailing, lesser virtue will also ripen as the result of a higher rebirth. Yet its sole aim is rebirth as a human or deva, without even a thought of seeking liberation or buddhahood. Since the mind is lesser, its result cannot be called supreme. During the intermediate state, one may inevitably and urgently seek a human or celestial birthplace and find it difficult not to do so. But while alive now, seeking only the result of a human or celestial rebirth makes one’s motivation far too narrow. In the long term, seeking only the small result of rebirth as a human or deva is shortsighted. Consider this: if one performs virtue solely to attain a higher rebirth, even immense virtue might bring a hundred human lives. If one could perform ordinary virtues in those lives, that would at least be acceptable. But suppose one merely commits wrongdoing—working as a butcher and killing hundreds of beings each day, for example—or ordinarily performs no virtue, has no compassion, harms beings, and disregards others’ welfare for personal gain. Obtaining a human life so undisciplined would be meaningless.

If saṃsāra ended after one obtained a hundred human lives, there would be no cause for concern. Saṃsāra, however, will not cease without reason. If one spends those hundred lives performing no virtue and only committing wrongdoing, when the virtuous result sustaining them is exhausted, one will not have ended saṃsāra but will instead fall into even more miserable hells.

Examined this way, is there benefit in obtaining a hundred human lives? It would be better to spend a hundred lives as grazing animals such as cattle or horses. Apart from inadvertently eating small insects in the grass, such animals do not kill or slander the Three Jewels. Moreover, this is the final stage in which the painful result of their past karma is nearing exhaustion, and the day when they leave that suffering behind is gradually approaching.

Although cattle, horses, and other animals suffer greatly when slaughtered, they have not committed severe wrongdoing during that life. At death, if past virtuous karma ripens, they can rise to a higher realm. But a person who has committed such severe wrongdoing throughout a hundred lives will, when the merit sustaining those lives is exhausted, experience terrible painful results. Thus without obtaining a precious human life endowed with freedoms and advantages, an ordinary human life still makes it very difficult to practice supreme virtue.

Can we, then, obtain a temporarily precious human life endowed with freedoms and advantages in our next life? This can be assessed through the concordant effect: what one delights in doing now is what one will do in the next life. If one presently considers only oneself in every situation and never others, that habit will certainly prevent one from obtaining such a precious human life. If, for example, a person loves weapons, harbors intense anger, and has a violent temper, he will become a fierce animal such as a tiger or wolf in the next life and will have no chance of obtaining a precious human life.

Karmic cause and effect are extremely subtle and unfailing. If one diligently practices virtue in this life, there is hope of obtaining a precious human life. But without practicing supreme virtue, even obtaining a human body will not make it a beneficial one.

What about obtaining the body of a deva? Devas generally have very long lives, live pleasantly, and enjoy many objects of the five senses. Unlike beings in the lower realms, they do not experience intense suffering. Yet apart from the time of death, while intoxicated by sensory pleasures they do not feel that their lives are long; time seems to pass in an instant, and they perform not the slightest virtue. Because they have not accumulated the provisions of virtuous karma, devas experience extraordinarily intense suffering of falling when death comes.

Viewed over the long term, therefore, obtaining a human life without performing virtue makes that life meaningless. Saying that rebirth as a human or deva is good is only a temporary statement; over the long term, it does not end well.

Ordinary people of good character also perform virtues. Although they do not act with a neutral or nonvirtuous mind, regrettably most of what they do remains lesser virtue, so we should correct our motivation. If at the outset we do not understand what constitutes vast and supreme virtue, we will often fall into this state when performing virtue. Even after many years of virtuous conduct, we may never have performed a genuinely supreme, pure, and vast virtue. What we consider virtuous may not actually be virtuous, and what we consider supreme and vast may not be so. All this results from not understanding the method of performing virtue.

In the future, therefore, we must not measure the magnitude of virtue only by its external appearance. We should know that its magnitude is established primarily in dependence upon the breadth of our motivation. Even a minute virtue can immediately become great when motivated by a vast intention, while a seemingly immense virtue can remain small when motivated by a narrow one.

Thus whether performing virtue ourselves or conducting rites for the deceased, we should not think only of obtaining a higher human or celestial rebirth in the next life. We must not motivate, act, and dedicate so narrowly. When performing virtue, we should hold a far-reaching aim in mind and make the action a great virtue. It is extremely important to strive in this way.

II. Middling Virtuous Motivation

One may think: “Performing virtue merely to seek the perfections of this life, or falling into a neutral state, brings no great benefit. Even if I attain the perfections of a higher human or celestial rebirth in the next life, I will gain only a little happiness for one or two lives and, in the long term, will remain subject to the sufferings of birth, aging, illness, and death. Nothing within saṃsāra is by nature happiness. I should be liberated from the continuity of taking rebirth and become completely free from all the sufferings of birth and death.” The mind that performs virtue after reflecting in this way is called a middling virtuous motivation. Recognizing that saṃsāra is by nature suffering enables such a virtuous mind to arise.

Someone may ask, “Wholeheartedly seeking only liberation, without pursuing either this life or future lives, should be a greater virtuous motivation. Why is it classified as middling?”

Because it is merely the thought of seeking liberation for oneself. It does not consider one’s own parents, family, and friends in this life, much less think of helping the beings of the three realms attain liberation. The motivation is therefore not vast, but only middling.

Someone may think, “Whatever else may be said, aspiring to liberation from beginningless eons of birth and death is already exceedingly rare.”

The following analogy explains the point:

Suppose that during a famine, when an entire family is starving and close to death, the man of the household is invited to a meal and allowed to eat whatever he wishes. He concerns himself only with eating and drinking his fill and never thinks that his parents, wife, and children at home are near death and tormented by hunger. He does not even have the kind thought of taking them a single bowl of rice. Not only would his family never forgive such conduct; people in the world would not accept it either.

“The parents, wife, and children suffering from hunger” represents beings in the three lower realms tormented by suffering without the slightest happiness. “Arriving at a home where every wish can be fulfilled” represents obtaining the jewel of a precious human life endowed with freedoms and advantages, which provides the conditions for accomplishing both temporary and ultimate benefit for others. “Thinking nothing of one’s parents, wife, and children after arriving there and caring only for one’s own enjoyment” represents possessing no altruistic mind, but only the Lesser Vehicle attitude that says, “I alone must be liberated from birth and death.”

This analogy fully demonstrates that a virtuous mind which ignores beings and seeks only one’s own liberation is not noble.

Does performing virtue with this mind, then, bring no result? That is not the case. Practicing with the motivation of seeking only one’s own liberation can bring the arhat’s fruition of individual liberation. Merely arousing the motivation without practicing diligently, however, may not bring the fruition of an ārya.

Among the attitudes described above, some should be abandoned and others adjusted and transformed into a nobler motivation.

When preparing to act, therefore, the main point is not physical or verbal preparation. We should principally examine our present motivation: are we performing virtue for this life, for a future life, or solely for our own liberation? As soon as we discover that our motivation is extremely narrow, we should adjust it into a vast motivation.

We might also think: “My ability is limited. I can only offer a lamp before the Buddha and make a few prostrations. If I do not also make my motivation vast, I fear I will be unable to create great roots of virtue in this life.” Whenever we perform even the smallest virtue, we should encourage ourselves in this way and earnestly arouse a vast mind.

III. Greater Virtuous Motivation

Someone may ask, “Some of the attitudes above should be abandoned and others adjusted. What, then, is the virtuous mind we should genuinely arouse?”

The virtuous mind that we must arouse intentionally should possess the following characteristic: once it arises or becomes involved, the root of virtue definitely becomes vast and supreme, genuinely touching the essential point for accomplishing the exceptional benefits of self and others. Regardless of the practitioner’s gender, appearance, or status, in terms of the nature of the karma, that person is in fact practicing an inconceivable virtue. Viewed roughly, the vast motivation for the two benefits may not appear complicated. Yet close examination of its root of virtue reveals that it is not simple at all. For beginners who have not yet practiced motivation systematically, if it is initially difficult to arouse a genuine greater virtuous motivation from the heart, they may temporarily arouse a contrived approximation of it.

What is the true defining character of a greater motivation? A genuine, fully qualified motivation must possess two components.

I. The First Component of the Defining Character of a Greater Motivation:

Every virtue, down to the offering of a single lamp, can become either a great or a small virtue.

Where a rider goes, for example, generally depends upon the direction in which the reins are pulled. Pull the reins to the left and the horse runs left; pull them to the right and the horse runs right; pull in neither direction and the horse does not change course.

Similarly, whether one recites mantras or makes prostrations, one may inwardly seek only human or celestial fortune in this life or the next, seek only one’s own liberation, or seek buddhahood in order to benefit others. Whatever the thought, that is the result that will ripen. A motivation that seeks only recovery from one’s own illness, for example, can indeed bring that result. Wholeheartedly seeking to benefit beings, by contrast, makes the act an accumulation for buddhahood. A virtuous action cannot therefore be categorically assigned to the greater, middling, or lesser type; it must be judged according to the intention of the virtuous mind.

The first characteristic of a greater virtuous mind, therefore, is that the action is performed purely for the benefit of limitless beings.

Fundamentally, then, the magnitude of a virtue is not judged chiefly by external appearances such as the number of prostrations or the quality of the offering vessel. One should not think that offering to the Buddha in a gold vessel plants a root of virtue for buddhahood, offering in a silver vessel plants a root of virtue for arhatship, and offering in an earthen vessel can bring only human or celestial happiness. No such categorical judgment can be made.

With a narrow motivation, even offering an oil lamp that burns for a hundred years can become only a condition for temporarily attaining the happiness of a higher realm. With a vast motivation, even offering a lamp in a worthless earthen vessel becomes a supreme root of virtue that surpasses the Lesser Vehicle and accomplishes the benefits of self and others. Does this mean that offering in a gold vessel and offering in an earthen vessel are no different?

When embraced by a vast motivation, an offering made in a gold vessel makes an excellent act better still, and its merit is then greater than that of an offering made in a silver or earthen vessel. The Buddha, of course, does not cling to offering vessels as superior or inferior. Ordinary beings, however, distinguish a gold vessel as excellent and an earthen vessel as poor. When the intention behind the offering, the object offered, and the other conditions come together, differences in the quality of the causes and conditions produce corresponding differences in the result. We should understand that the emphasis here is on making the motivation pure, supreme, and vast, not on saying that one need not make offerings in gold vessels.

Thus even when offering a single lamp, one should hold the thought of benefiting every being. One must possess the first component of the defining character of motivation and not think narrowly, “This is only for me, only for my family and friends, or only for the people of my area.” The mind should encompass the entire dharmadhātu and take all beings as its objects. Only then can immeasurable merit arise.

Someone may think, “I cannot benefit those who harm me. I am unable to benefit every being.”

One must not form such an intention. Dharma practice cannot be mixed with worldly judgments, favors, and grudges; otherwise there is no way to accomplish pure and vast roots of virtue. A practitioner has no reason to divide into friends and enemies those beings who have all equally been one’s mother. The moment one arouses motivation is the crucial time for genuinely wishing to bring the most extensive benefit and happiness to every being. One should therefore not allow a biased mind to obstruct impartial and vast virtue.

II. The Second Component of the Defining Character of a Greater Motivation:

Does benefiting beings mean providing them with clothing, food, housing, and transportation? Even animals can obtain these benefits, and accomplishing them is not difficult; beings do not necessarily need our help, since they can gain them through their own efforts. What benefit do beings neither understand nor practice and cannot accomplish through their own power, thus requiring our help? It is the benefit of complete liberation from long eons of birth and death. Not only insects, birds, and animals, but even those considered wise and benevolent among humans cannot imagine this benefit: that every being attain buddhahood. We should arouse the motivation to accomplish this benefit.

Someone may think, “An ordinary being like me, burdened by severe karmic obscurations, certainly cannot attain buddhahood.”

There is no need to think this way. Suppose someone plays a demon in the morning and appears in the form of a demon, then changes into the costume of a deva in the afternoon; the earlier demon has become a deva. Similarly, although in this life we have taken inferior bodies as ordinary beings, we will certainly die after some decades and have to relinquish these bodies. Our identity can therefore change. The key is to establish a great aspiration and be certain that we can attain buddhahood. We need not take another inferior body in the next life. The more supreme the virtuous mind we arouse, the more it can become the basis for a supreme identity. We should know that an ordinary being can attain the fruition of perfect abandonment and realization just like Buddha Śākyamuni. Śākyamuni Buddha was once an ordinary being and had even been an inferior hell being. Since the Buddha could attain buddhahood from the state of an ordinary being, why can I not?

When performing virtue, therefore, we should think, “I will certainly bring all beings and myself to buddhahood together.” The sūtras call this motivation like that of a boatman; in modern terms, it is like the motivation of a driver. A driver, for example, takes ten passengers toward a destination. They travel in the same vehicle, depart at the same time, and finally arrive together. Likewise, we do not seek to attain buddhahood before other beings. We perform every virtue solely so that we and all other beings may attain buddhahood together.

Generally speaking, arousing this motivation may not be very difficult. But when examined deeply and carefully, only the heartfelt arising of a vast and impartial virtuous mind constitutes the genuine supreme preparation of motivation.

Someone may doubt: “What result can this motivation ripen? It is said to be for the benefit of every being, but if neither others nor oneself benefits, both aims will have been lost. It would be safer to attend only to one’s own welfare.”

In fact, a self-interested motivation is incorrect. The merit of performing virtue for three people is greater than that of performing it for one; the merit of performing virtue for ten people is twice that of doing so for five; and the merit of performing virtue for twenty people is four times that of doing so for five. By extension, the vaster the motivation and the higher the aim, the greater the virtue’s merit. Both aims will never be lost. From the very beginning, therefore, we should arouse the motivation to benefit beings as limitless as the reaches of space.

Our habit of selfishness, accumulated since beginningless time, is extremely strong. Every thought centers on self-interest, and in everything we do, we feel secure only after including “myself,” fearing that if “I” am omitted, everything will be lost. In truth, the motivation to attain buddhahood for the benefit of beings is the safest of all, and a motivation unmixed with self-interest is the most supreme.

There is no need to doubt this, because the omniscient Buddha personally realized it. From the first arising of bodhicitta until buddhahood, the Buddha never thought, “How can I gain my own benefit?” He thought only, “Even if I must go to hell, I will benefit beings.” His sole concern was how to bring genuine benefit to every being.

For example, when Śākyamuni Buddha was reborn in hell during his causal training, he and his companion Gama Reba were harnessed to pull a cart. Because they were too weak to move it, the hell guard beat them with a blazing weapon, causing tremendous suffering.

He then thought, “Rather than both of us suffering, let me bear it alone so that Gama Reba may have some relief.” He said to the hell guard, “Please fasten my companion’s rope around my neck and let me pull the cart alone.”

The hell guard angrily replied, “Every being must experience the result of his own karma. Who could possibly change it?” He then struck the bodhisattva’s head with an iron hammer. Through the power of the virtuous mind that had just arisen, the bodhisattva was immediately freed from hell and reborn in a celestial realm. The sūtras say that this marked the beginning of the Blessed One’s altruism.

From that time onward, the Blessed One never entertained a self-interested thought for even an instant. We, by contrast, have pursued only our own welfare from the time we first understood anything until now. We have not aroused a virtuous, altruistic mind. We even scramble for seats when boarding a vehicle, push to the front of a line when shopping, and ask in everything, “How much benefit will I get?” Our thoughts are entirely selfish. By attending single-mindedly to ourselves in this way, what qualities have we accomplished to date? Have we really brought ourselves ultimate benefit? In fact, not only have we failed to accomplish the transcendent quality of liberation, we have not even secured the benefit of avoiding hell and obtaining a human or celestial rebirth in the next life.

Compare ourselves with the Buddha, the most reliable example. During his causal training, the Buddha was single-mindedly altruistic and long ago manifested the buddhahood of great bliss. We have been single-mindedly self-interested and remain afflicted to this day. Śāntideva says in the Bodhicaryāvatāra: “All the happiness found in the world arises from benefiting others; all the suffering found in the world arises from self-interest. What need is there to say more? The foolish seek their own welfare; the Sage seeks only the welfare of others—just look at the difference between the two.” We should therefore not believe that thinking only of our own benefit will yield a better result.

Motivation thus has a defining character with two components:

I. I perform this virtue to benefit every being;

II. I perform this virtue so that all beings and I may attain buddhahood together, with none before or after.

An even more supreme motivation will now be explained.

Set yourself entirely aside. Without concern for whether you attain buddhahood or fall into hell, think single-mindedly only of how to bring beings to buddhahood. This is the unsurpassed motivation. Far from causing a fall into the lower realms, it brings the swiftest attainment of buddhahood. If one cannot arouse this motivation, one should still practice according to the motivation described above.

When embraced by such a motivation, even offering a single lamp or making a single prostration is transformed into an exceptionally supreme root of virtue because its accompanying motivation is so vast.

Consider the example of the old woman’s lamp offering. The old woman was poor. When she saw King Ajātaśatru offering lamps to the Buddha all the way from the palace gate to Jetavana Grove, she was deeply moved and wished very much to make an offering to the Buddha. With the only two coins she had obtained through begging, she went to an oil merchant to buy oil for a lamp. The merchant said, “You can hardly sustain yourself. Why not buy some food?” She replied, “The Buddha as a field of merit is difficult to encounter. I wish to plant merit for future lives.”

When she went before the Buddha to light the lamp, she considered that there was so little oil that it would not burn for even half the night. She made this vow: “If in a future life I can attain a fruition like that of Buddha Śākyamuni (for the sake of all beings), may this oil lamp remain alight throughout the night.” After making the vow, the old woman prostrated and left. That night, some of the lamps offered by King Ajātaśatru went out after their oil was exhausted. The old woman’s lamp, however, shone more brightly than all the others; its oil was not depleted, and its flame remained alight throughout the night.

At dawn the next day, Venerable Maudgalyāyana followed the Buddha’s instruction and extinguished the lamps one by one. Every other lamp went out, but the old woman’s lamp remained alight after three attempts to extinguish it. Maudgalyāyana raised his monastic robe and fanned it, but the flame grew even brighter. Through miraculous power he then summoned a violent gale to blow it out, yet the flame blazed more strongly. Its light shone upward to the Brahmā realm and illuminated the entire trichiliocosm, so that the lamp’s light was visible everywhere.

Why could even Great Maudgalyāyana, foremost in miraculous power, not extinguish one small oil lamp despite using all his ability? In the Tibetan Buddhist canon, the Buddha gives this reason: the śrāvaka mind is self-interested and cannot equal the vast motivation of the old woman, so it could not extinguish her lamp.

An ordinary person might think, “Compared with the king’s vast lamp offering, the old woman offered only one lamp. This does not seem like a greater offering.” In terms of the external material object alone, her offering was indeed very small. Yet she was motivated by the welfare of every being, and the merit of this motivation exceeded the former offering by many thousands upon thousands of times. We should therefore perform virtue not merely with words, but by bringing forth from the depths of the heart an unfeigned and vast virtuous mind. If we truly cannot do so, it is still extremely important to arouse a contrived approximation of that motivation.

What does it mean to arouse motivation from the depths of the heart, and what is a contrived approximation? Suppose a person has traveled a long distance and is ravenously hungry when someone invites him to eat. He sincerely longs for food, and his conduct is heartfelt and spontaneous. This illustrates motivation arising from the depths of the heart. Another person has already eaten his fill when a family invites him to a meal. He goes along with them, but he eats with difficulty and does not truly desire the food from the depths of his heart. This illustrates a contrived approximation of motivation.

Corresponding to these analogies, motivation is also of two kinds: I. A powerful motivation arising from the depths of the heart:

I. Upon hearing that the benefits of motivation are immense, one may think, “Since its merit is so great, I too will arouse it!” Even a contrived approximation of such a mind brings great benefit. Through the power of this contrived motivation, an unfeigned motivation will arise in the next life. That motivation will then possess great power—power equivalent to enabling all beings of Jambudvīpa to be reborn in Sukhāvatī and even establishing them in buddhahood.

A contrived approximation of motivation is therefore not difficult to understand. It can arise through only slight mental effort, and once arisen, it has great significance.

Whether a virtue becomes great or small depends crucially upon motivation. Consider a mālā strung with one hundred beads: counted as one strand, it is one; counted in groups of ten beads, it is ten; counted bead by bead, it is one hundred. Likewise, offering one lamp or making one prostration with a narrow motivation produces only a small root of virtue; with a middling motivation, a middling root of virtue; and with a vast motivation, a vast root of virtue.

When even an offering of a single lamp is made for this life and the next, it becomes a cause for accomplishing the benefits of this and future lives. When made to liberate oneself from birth and death and transcend saṃsāra, it becomes a cause for one’s own liberation. If the motivation is vast, supreme, and complete, it becomes a great root of virtue that can help not only the beings of the six realms but even śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha arhats attain buddhahood.

It is extremely important to do everything in our power to follow the requirements of a greater virtuous motivation and genuinely train in it, at least through a contrived approximation. Many buddhas, bodhisattvas, lineage masters, and great adepts have composed stages of contemplation for training in the greater virtuous mind. Before an ordinary person has practiced a systematic stage of bodhicitta training, it is acceptable to practice according to the motivation explained above.

Practitioners who have a foundation should select one of the following methods for actual practice: I. the method for cultivating bodhicitta in The Words of My Perfect Teacher; II. the sevenfold cause-and-effect method in the Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path; or III. the method of exchanging self and others in the Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path. This is called training in “the supreme preparation of motivation.”

Although actions of body and speech and arrangements involving external objects are also preparations, they are not the most important preparation. The crucial point is one’s own motivation.