kshanti paramita: the perfection of patience

Of all the Bodhisattva practices it is patience that is held in the highest regard. Patience, like many of the concepts we talk about in our practice, has many levels or layers. There is patiently waiting in line or for someone to get ready. There is tolerating a family member or friend who rambles on about their problems. Or even patience as our society works through racism, division and a pandemic. All of these imply a kind of quietism or passivity.

To practice kshanti paramita is to patiently and tolerantly bear witness to hardships and difficulties—but not passively. The perfection of patience is transformative. It transforms difficult circumstances from misfortunes or disasters into spiritual benefit. For this reason it is a particularly powerful practice and a person who develops it has strength of character, vision, courage, dignity, and depth. She or he understands something profound about human beings and how to love them. Patience can be fierce; it sees the light in others when they cannot, it sits with a dying friend, it makes eye contact with the homeless, it holds, with an open heart, the transgressions of those around us and it asks us to turn towards the difficulty, the pain and use it like rocket fuel for awakening.

When we’re patient with our suffering rather than broadcasting it to each person we meet, we see that suffering is expansive, connecting us warmly to the world. When suffering is “ours” instead of “mine,” it’s not suffering. My sorrow, grief, or fear is painful, yet it’s also sweet, because I share it with all mankind. This is how bodhisattvas understand the third noble truth of the Buddha: “the end of suffering.” To them, the end of suffering doesn’t mean the end of physical pain, failure, loss, alienation, fear, and other forms of suffering but rather the transformation of suffering into awareness, solidarity and love.

May all beings be well.

Victor

The leaves do what we can't.

They wait their whole lives.

At first they dream of air

and wait to slip from wood.

Then they dream of openness

and wait to stretch in light.

Then they dream of thirst

and wait to soften in the rain.

At last they dream of nothing

and simply unfurl.

The mystery of waiting is what

turns light into food.

To wait beyond what we think

we can bear, is how things

within turn sweet.

-Mark Nepo