In order to find motivation for diligent practice, it can help to identify and connect with what you love more than anything else in the whole world. What love makes your life worth living? Love for your children, grandchildren, animals, nature, music, beauty, justice, knowledge? What or who arouses an unconditional sense of affinity and inspiration in the core of your being? Then practice for the subject of your love, because practice makes you better able to access, express, and manifest your love.
Quicklinks to Article Content:
The Problem of Motivation
Traditional Buddhist Ways of Strengthening Motivation
Being Motivated by Love (What Kind of Love?)
Identifying the Subject of our Deepest Love
Even As a Mother Protects Her Only Child
The Problem of Motivation
It can be challenging to find motivation for any kind of healthy behavior, whether it’s exercise, study, healthy eating, or refraining from harmful stuff – anything that requires effort. Our Dharma practice is no different. We may have lots of motivation at certain times, but then find our interest and willingness flagging. We may find ourselves meditating less and less, and missing more and more Sangha events. We may stop studying, or give up trying to practice mindfulness in our daily lives. Past aspirations to cultivate greater peace of mind, wisdom, compassion, and skillfulness may recede as we find ourselves caught up in other things.
In Soto Zen practice in particular it can be very difficult to motivate ourselves to bring energy and focus to our zazen, which is shikantaza, or just sitting. We’re told this isn’t even meditation practice, and that we’re trying cultivate “no gaining idea.” Teachings like “zazen is returning home and sitting in peace” (from Zen master Keizan), meant to be inspirational, can end up leading us to complacency and dullness. If we don’t feel peace, perhaps we’re motivated to sit and find it. But especially when we gain some measure of peace in our lives, what then? We’re very likely to get complacent and think, “Here I am, sitting in peace. This is enough.”
Ideally, however, our zazen – and the rest of our practice – is extremely lively and full of energy. We pay attention as closely as if we were going to die this very day. We take every opportunity in this precious, short, and rare human life to learn, grow, and clean up our karma.
This kind of energy and attention isn’t easy at all. We’re wired by natural selection to pay attention to immediate threats or opportunities. When there’s not much going on – and our zazen is basically as boring as it gets – our body-mind just turns off. We go into idling mode, existing at only the most basic level, living through the time we’re sitting.
This is okay – there’s nothing morally wrong with this situation. We are technically still “just sitting.” Zazen still has an effect on us. But while falling down, walking, and dancing are all in harmony with gravity, there is a difference between these manifestations. Don’t we at least want to walk, if not dance?
Ironically, most of us have worked quite hard to let go of gaining ideas and agendas for self-improvement. Our zazen and our practice in general do not have levels. There are no definable or tangible goals to strive for, as there are in many other meditation traditions. How do we motivate ourselves to learn to walk or dance without getting stuck in old habits of striving, and without creating dualistic notions about spiritual goals?
In Zen, it comes down to willingness instead of willpower. We aim to develop in our practice without resorting to willpower, because willpower creates duality – a “self” who is calling the shots and cracking the whip, versus aspects of us which need to be disciplined and brought into line. In ordinary activities this approach might work (For example, “making” ourselves exercise and thereby causing our muscles to become stronger), but in our spiritual practice this approach creates an obstacle. What we’re trying to wake up to, in part, is that there is no inherently existing, enduring “self” to call the shots!
So, we instead cultivate willingness. Without dividing ourselves against ourselves, we become more and more familiar and intimate with all aspects of ourselves. We make friends with it all, even the bad, weak, selfish, pathetic, or scary parts. We invite all parts of ourselves to the meditation cushion. And whatever integration and acceptance we manage in our zazen has profound effects on the rest of our life; zazen is a microcosm of our life. How we sit is how we do everything.
Traditional Buddhist Ways of Strengthening Motivation
Fortunately, there are many ways to cultivate willingness or generate motivation in our practice. Sometimes you can just jump right in without thinking first, and the simplicity and refuge of following the breath or sitting still or practicing mindfulness is such a relief or pleasure that these activities provide their own motivation. This is like when we just do it and exercise, and then gradually build the habit because it actually feels good. This is the best kind of motivation because it’s so simple!
We may also be motivated by pain – emotional, mental, and/or physical. Zazen and other aspects of our practice often provide us with considerable relief, solace, and strength. At times, we practice diligently in order to remain sane, or even to survive.
Even in Soto Zen we might be motivated by spiritual ambition – wanting to achieve some level of stillness or insight or behavior. We may want to become more like some spiritual master we have encountered, or to embody some ideal we cherish. Eventually this kind of ambition will become an obstacle, or a source of disappointment which then actually deflates your motivation, but in the short term it’s not all that bad. If you have this kind of motivation, I say go for it. Better this than complacency, and eventually you will probably gain some insights which change the nature of your motivation. My Dharma grandmother Roshi Kennett called this “the positive use of greed.”
In needing motivation, we are no different than our Dharma ancestors, so there are plenty of Buddhist teachings about how to light a fire under your practice. The main traditional teachings I know of about motivation are of three kinds:
- Contemplating how the world is full of misery, and how practice can liberate us from rebirth. (This one isn’t usually used in Ch’an or Zen and I don’t recommend it, but in many Buddhist traditions, hardcore practitioners motivate themselves this way.)
- Encouraging spiritual ambition, particularly calling to mind the Buddhas and ancestors and their attainments, and striving toward them as a way to express gratitude for the opportunity to practice the Dharma.
- Reminding yourself of the impermanence and brevity of human life by contemplating death and impermanence, either directly (e.g. by meditating in a charnel ground, where bodies are burned) or by reciting a verse like the five remembrances: “I am subject to aging. There is no way to avoid aging; I am subject to ill health. There is no way to avoid illness; I am going to die. There is no way to avoid death; Everyone and everything that I love will change, and I will be separated from them; My only true possessions are my actions, and I cannot escape their consequences.”[i]
Traditional teachings, then, recognize the need for motivation for practice. If any of these work for you, go ahead and use them!
Being Motivated by Love (What Kind of Love?)
If we need motivation for practice, I think one of the purest and most effective ways is to practice for love. Love has the potential to be a source of powerful, sincere, positive, and unconditional energy for practice without encouraging dualistic thinking, striving, or a subtle rejection of the world.
Before I explore what it means to let your practice be motivated by love, I think it’s worth saying a few words about why this approach isn’t part of the traditional Buddhist teachings. I suspect plenty of our Dharma ancestors were actually motivated by love the way I’m talking about it, but Buddhism has always been wary of being motivated by feelings or emotions. This is because our basic feelings – attraction, aversion, indifference – and many of our emotions – anger, longing, envy, jealousy – are self-centered. Even “positive” emotions like romantic love or feeling pride about accomplishments may be quite self-centered. As long we we’re motivated by self-centered emotions, we keep acting out our karma and reinforcing our attachment to self.
Self-centered or self-involved love is not, ultimately, the kind of love I’m talking about as being a powerful and unconditional basis for our practice motivation. (Even our love for children or spouse or family members is sometimes far from selfless and unconditional!) On the other hand, of course, you might indeed be able to motivate yourself to practice based on love that isn’t entirely selfless! Heck, if it works, go for it.
The kind of love I’m talking about as an unconditional motivation for practice is deep and wordless. It arises in you when you encounter some aspect of life, independent of thoughts, judgments, or circumstances. The mere encounter brings joy and appreciation. Energy rises out of your belly, courses through your chest, and radiates out from your heart. It may bring tears to your eyes.
Deep love is a resonance between your being and something outside of your being, and yet that resonance is a sign of connectedness that proves you are not ultimately separate from whatever it is. Along with this deep love comes gratitude for the existence of that which you love, regardless of any kind of recognition or special consideration of you on the part of the subject of your love. In this context, you don’t matter at all. The subject of your love is precious, beautiful, and worth celebrating unto itself. It is eminently worthy of your devotion. To serve it, to care for it, simply to appreciate it brings your life meaning and joy. Naturally, we are motived to practice in order to become better able to serve, care for, and appreciate the subject of our deep love.
Motivation based in this unconditional love is stable and boundless, because as long as the subject of our love is present in the world in any way, even if someday it is reduced to the smallest possible manifestation in some far-off corner of the world, even if someday it is reduced merely to the potential for re-emergence, our love is undiminished.
Identifying the Subject of our Deepest Love
How do we identify and connect with the subject of our deepest love, so we can tap into this boundless and unconditional motivation? This may sound rather abstract, so let’s explore this.
Think of times in your life when you have felt something of what I described earlier – that arising of energy, of inexplicable and powerful resonance. This is how we start – with the feeling itself, the experience itself, not by considering of list of things you are aware of caring about.
What were you encountering at such a moment? Or, alternatively, is there something you can call to mind right now which causes this love to arise in you?
The subject of your love may or may not have an easily graspable form or name, and actually this is a good thing. The unconditional love I’m talking about isn’t dependent on the existence of any particular person, or any particular natural setting, or any particular manifestation of skill, beauty, or truth. What we love most deeply is something that shines through particular manifestations, something that is embodied by particular manifestations.
Perhaps profound love arises when you are contemplating your child or grandchild’s face as they are laughing. Perhaps it happens when you are listening to a piece of music, or standing on a precipice looking over a vast river valley, or watching the bravery and resilience of indigenous people protecting their land. Perhaps you experience it when witnessing acts of compassion, or being near a horse, dog, or bird, or sitting zazen in a powerfully silent zendo with 70 other people.
Ask yourself, what unconditional thing is shining through at that moment? In a way, it is limiting even to put words to it. Ultimately, perhaps we can just say it life shining though. Or the Ineffable.
But each of us is an individual. For better or worse we have our own resonances, affinities, and preferences.
For me, when I go through this process of exploration and examination of my deepest love, I notice how I am profoundly and explicably moved by what I can best describe as beauty. This beauty manifests in infinitely many ways: A complex, self-balancing, self-sustaining ecosystem… a tiny songbird outside my window, hopping from branch to branch, absolutely perfect in every detail from its perceptive eyes to its layers of feathers like a cloak of jewels to its tiny feet… a progression of chords in a piece of traditional, melancholic folk music handed down through the centuries, reflecting the determination and resilience of human beings facing terrible loss and difficulty… the miracle of human manifestation in my partner, who lives as my companion although we can never actually see into one another’s minds and hearts, and who surprises me in part by not being me…
When I notice beauty, there is a change in my whole being: An opening and relaxation in the area of my heart, a deeper breath, an expansion of my awareness beyond my small self.
As a contemplate the subject of my deepest love, motivation arises. In particular, for me, a vow takes form to “protect beauty from mindless destruction.” This can inspire, energize, and focus my practice and zazen. It’s not enough to be motivated for myself. It’s not enough to be motivated to achieve some arbitrary goal. But to be motivated by love… how wonderful!
Even As a Mother Protects Her Only Child
On reflection, I realized that motivation based in love is reflected in traditional Buddhist teachings after all – in the ideal of the bodhisattva, who cherishes and cares for all beings “as a mother protects her only child.”[ii]
The bodhisattva ideal, of course, is an advanced spiritual being who is utterly without judgment of others, and who feels goodwill, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity toward all beings equally. In other words, a bodhisattva becomes so selfless she ends up loving all beings.
In the tradition of metta practice, though, we can enter this practice from the other end: Tapping into the love first – the love we naturally feel. Then, through practice, expanding it to include all beings and things, and ultimately tapping into love itself.
Endnotes
[i] https://www.learnreligions.com/the-five-remembrances-449551
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