Pay Attention, for Goodness' Sake: The Buddhist Path of Kindness - Softcover

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Sylvia Boorstein is a cofounding teacher at Spirit Rock Meditation Center in Woodacre and a senior teacher at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts. She has a Ph.D. in psychology and teaches and lectures widely. She is the author of It’s Easier Than You Think; Don’t Just Do Something, Sit There; and That’s Funny You Don’t Look Buddhist. She and her husband, Seymour, live in Sonoma county, California.

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According to the Buddha, the path of kindness is the path of happiness. Now Sylvia Boorstein, nationally bestselling author of "It's Easier Than You Think, has taken the 2500-year-old practice of developing the qualities of a compassionate heart--the core of the Buddha's own practice--and made it accessible to all. "Pay Attention for Goodness' Sake is the first book ever to guide Western readers on the path of the Buddha's Ten Paramitas, the Perfections of the Heart. Boorstein combines traditional Buddhist teachings and parables with stories from her own life, as well as easy-to-follow meditations, to show how the practice of Mindfulness--paying attention in everyday life--can lead to these perfections that all of us strive for, including Generosity, Morality, Wisdom, Energy, Patience, Determination, and Equanimity.
When we take on this practice, Boorstein notes, "our vision becomes transformed. We see, with increasing clarity, the confusion in our own minds and the suffering in our own hearts. . . . And we also see the extraordinariness of life, how amazing it is that life exists." Boorstein's lively and practical lessons about everyday generosity, morality, making and mending mistakes, the bliss of blamelessness, and other human concerns and frailties, help to clarify our distractions and connect us with our own goodness, "the part of ourselves that wishes it had done differently."
For Buddhist and non-Buddhist alike, "Pay Attention for Goodness' Sake is a cheerful, inspiring book that offers the possibility of a transformed life.

"From the Hardcover edition.

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Generosity

Generosity brings happiness at every stage of its expression.

We experience joy in forming the intention to be generous.

We experience joy in the actual act of giving something.

And we experience joy in remembering the fact that we have given.

--The Buddha

GENEROSITY

I say this chart to myself this way: If I intend to perfect my capacity for Generosity, I need to be alert for every opportunity that presents itself in which I can share. The sharing itself, the generous act, will become the habit by means of which I can experience directly the joy of not feeling needy, the ease of a peaceful mind. And I'll be inspired to cultivate that habit of sharing by recognizing that my life (and everyone else's too) is challenged, and that comforting and being comforted are pleasures. When I feel I have enough, I am content.

GENEROSITY MEDITATION

I have a framed Nicole Hollander Sylvia cartoon on the wall in my kitchen. Sylvia is typing a list of "responses you hope to have the occasion to say." Everyone always laughs at "Yes, it is unusual to have won an Olympic medal and the Nobel peace prize and could you bring me leather pants in a size two?" They laugh at Sylvia's answer to the question "Ma, do you want anything from the store?" "Just get me two of everything." And they chuckle, as I always do, when they read the response that tops Sylvia's typed list: "No, thanks. I have everything I need."

The best thing about generosity is enjoying the feeling of not-needing. It's a great freedom. So stop. You don't need to go on right now. The whole book will wait. Smile. Take a long breath in and out. In whatever position you are--sitting up or lying down--make yourself comfortable. In a minute, when you finish reading the instructions, you'll close your eyes. But now, as you read, notice that you can feel your body, especially now that I've directed your attention to it, even as you read. You'll notice that your body, in a regular pattern, fills with breath as air comes into it and then eases back down as the breath goes out. No one needs to do anything. Breathing happens all by itself, and awareness happens all by itself. In the next several minutes, after you've closed your eyes, you will be able to let your awareness rest just in this sensation. Think of it as a gift to yourself, a sabbatical. To support your gift, give away any thought that arises in your mind that might captivate or distract your attention. Even if it seems important, you don't need it. If it's important, it will come back later. Let it go. Open your hands, whether they are on your lap or alongside you, into a relaxed shape, a shape that shows you have enough. Now close your eyes, relax, and practice this Generosity meditation for as long as you like.

RESOUNDING GENEROSITY

My friend and teaching colleague James Baraz tells the story of how he still experiences the pleasure that he felt thirty years ago sharing a piece of cake with three of his friends. I think I've heard the story at least two dozen times, and I still love hearing it. He tells it at retreats, as part of a Dharma talk (a lecture on what the Buddha taught), and seldom varies a single word of it. I know all the details--how, while he was a meditator at a silent retreat washing pots as his afternoon work assignment, one of the cooks offered him a piece of cheesecake, a rare treat that had not been part of the lunch for the retreatants. He describes his delight. Then he explains that in those days people washed their own dishes and cups and set them on shelves along the wall to await the next meal. James knew which dishes belonged to his friends. He describes cutting his cake into four pieces, eating one piece himself, and putting the three other pieces on his friends' dishes. By the time James arrives at the point in the story where he tells about the looks of pleasure and surprise on his friends' faces as they arrived for the evening meal and found the cake in their dishes, and how he felt seeing them, he is clearly reliving the happiness of that moment. I feel it sitting next to him. I hear it in his voice. I think everyone else in the room does too. The echo of that piece of cheesecake is still reverberating.

The particulars of Generosity stories vary, of course, but certain elements are present in all of them. Formal translations of traditional Buddhist texts say, "The proximal cause for the arising of generosity is realizing that something can be relinquished." This means that acts of Generosity are preceded by the awareness "I have this, and I can give it away. I don't need to keep it." What also has to be present is the awareness of having something that might be useful, pleasant, or comforting to other people, as well as a sense of other people's needs.

Louise M. Davies was the principal donor for the building of the very beautiful symphony hall in San Francisco. It's named for her. A newspaper story, just after the building was inaugurated, quoted her response to an interviewer's question: "Why did you give this gift of six million dollars?"

She was said to have replied, "Because I had it."

I thought her answer was wonderful. It was so uncomplicated. It was stating the obvious. Of course she had it. Otherwise she couldn't have given it. And although she could have offered an opinion ("San Francisco needs a symphony hall with modern acoustics") or a personal reflection ("I've always loved music. It's important to me"), she didn't do that either. She just said, "I had it." So simple.

Sitting in Davies Hall enjoying a performance, I've often thought, "She could have had it and not given it." Not feeling needy is what allows generosity to happen, but it doesn't obligate it to happen. The impulse to do something has to be present. Recognizing the possibility of creating delight or of alleviating suffering are both sources of that impulse. Both are responses to people other than ourselves. Both provide pleasure.

In 1990 James and I traveled to India with some of our friends to visit the venerable Advaita teacher Sri H. W. L. Poonja in Lucknow. Every day for three weeks we traveled (in three-wheel taxis, then by pedal rickshaw, then on foot) to arrive in time for morning darshan (teachings) at his home. We sat with perhaps twenty other students from all over the world, squeezed in close to each other on the floor of the small living room. Poonja-ji (the -ji is an affectionate honorific title for a teacher) sat on a raised platform in the front of the room. For three hours he told stories, laughed, and included each of us, one by one, in dialogue. We all loved it. On the last day he agreed to see James and me in a private interview.

"What do you teach?" he asked.

"We teach Mindfulness and Lovingkindness meditation," James replied, "and we especially emphasize Generosity."

"There is no such thing as Generosity," Poonja-ji said. James and I exchanged glances that said, "Uh-oh! Have we just started this interview and already done it wrong?"

"No such thing at all," Poonja-ji repeated. "There is only the awareness of need and the natural impulse of the heart to address it. If you are hungry and your hand puts food in your mouth, you don't think of the hand as generous, do you? If people in front of you are hungry and you feed them, it's the same, isn't it?"

James and I talked afterward. "Maybe he's right," I said. "Let's think this through. If in the spring, as I am putting away my winter clothes, I think, 'I didn't wear this at all. I'll give it to the Salvation Army,' maybe that isn't Generosity. Maybe it's just closet cleaning. Maybe Generosity is...