“Samsara” is a Sanskrit word meaning the cycle of birth, death and rebirth. Samsara is closely associated with the human predilection for attachment to all the pleasures and pains of the world. In turn, the dualistic nature of pleasure and pain, two threads coiled together as inextricably as the two spiraling strands in a molecule of DNA, is captured by another Sanskrit word, “maya,” meaning cosmic delusion or illusion. Hindus and Buddhists believe that human beings are slaves to samsara, because our desire for physicality and bodily pleasure, working together with the laws of karma, leads us inexorably into each new incarnation. The key to enlightenment is to find a way to step out of the bonds of samsara, which is another way of saying that the goal of life is to step out of the endless cycle of birth and death, known as the great ‘wheel of life.’ Out of our intense attachment to the physical world, we must somehow find a way to be detached, while still continuing to live our daily lives.
If we are challenged to renounce samsara, does this mean that we are enjoined to live a monastic life, renouncing every form of pleasure that comes our way? The great holy men of India, the gurus and saints so vividly described in Yogananda’s “Autobiography,” appear to have lived a life of ritual, discipline and restraint, if not the pure monastic path that Gautauma followed before he became the Buddha. Still, in all of my readings to date, I have not yet come across a text that says we should retreat from life by resisting all the worldly pulls of pleasure and pain. Indeed, the whole point is to stop resisting, as Pema Chodron so eloquently relates in “Renunciation,” chapter 11 of her book, “The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Loving-Kindness.” This seems like a Rubik’s cube of a puzzle: how do you stop seeking pleasure and avoiding pain, without resisting your natural tendency to do both? The first part of the answer is that the formula or self-directive we all follow, “seek pleasure and avoid pain,” is actually resistance to life.
The other part of the answer is that you can embrace pleasure and pain without giving yourself over entirely to either one. Naturally, we already embrace and seek out pleasure, but we invariably do so without stepping outside the pleasure while we’re engaged in it. Therefore, the injunction is to transcend samsara by rising above both the pleasure and the pain. For example, at the point of orgasm, or as you take an exotic and tasty morsel of food into your mouth, or as you thrill to the wide-open freedom of speed on a ski slope, you might say to yourself, “this is pleasure and it is transitory. I rejoice in it, but it is not my whole life and it is not who I am.” At the same time, when pain appears on the horizon, instead of turning to flee, what if you stepped into the pain willingly, like the yogis who walk calmly over a bed of hot coals? This is the opposite of resistance, and obviously it takes a lot of courage. Still, when the pain is most intense, you may be soothed simply by saying to yourself, “this is pain and it is transitory. I abhore it, but it is not my whole life and it is not who I am.” In this way, we may become detached while still remaining fully engaged with life.
In my own life, if I can find the courage to step into pain when it comes toward me like a freight train, and if I can smile at myself in the middle of experiencing a great pleasure and say to myself, “this is the part of samsara that I like,” then maybe I will begin following the path toward transcendence. In her book, Pema Chodron writes about the importance of embracing life, grabbing it by the horns even as we fidget with our habitual resistance. In Chapter 12, “Sending and Taking,” she speaks of the value of practicing and advanced meditation technique called “tonglen.” In tonglen, the practitioner deliberately breathes in the pain and suffering of life and breathes out the pleasure and joy, as if effectively he or she chooses to take in the sufferings of others and give away his or her joy to them. If you can manage it, this is a true expression of compassion, the highest value in the Hindu and especially the Buddhist view of life.
But why at the most fundamental level is it so important to step outside of samsara? I keep coming back to that wonderful assertion, “I am in this world but not of it.” This statement, which I believe is endorsed across the religious spectrum, hits the nail on the head. If we are slaves to pleasure, then by our avoidance we are certainly also slaves to pain. If pain and pleasure are all we experience, then our natures are hardly more than animal nature. Naturally, we aspire to climb above our animal nature to embrace the divine principle in ourselves. God (if you believe in Him, or otherwise Buddha nature) does not seek pleasure; He radiates joy. God does not impose pain; He eases suffering.
Most significantly, though, it is important to step outside of samsara because if we don’t, we hurt ourselves by remaining in ignorance. Perhaps the truest definition of ignorance is a life in which we tie ourselves to the ground with psychic knots by embroiling ourselves in a constant, turbulent drama of emotions brought on by our attachment to raging and untamed desires, including the desire for self-protection. How many lawsuits, divorces, suicides, illnesses, car crashes or house fires could be avoided if we simply found a way to step out of samsara without resisting life? To transcend samsara, you have to step out of it by embracing it when you don’t like the way it looks and by laughing at it when you do. You don’t step into a fire; you step through it.
Bird of Spirit 