Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha

by Tara Brach

she just sat still, named what was happening and, instead of wishing they’d go away, just said, “This too.” “Suddenly it became clear that all my desires and thoughts and feelings are an endless, changing parade,” she told me. And then, with a look of surprise she added, “I’m not making it happen.”

might ask a person whose parents had been neglectful to pause and honestly sense what that experience had been like. Can they feel the enormous hunger for attention that might have developed in those circumstances? How they might still need to feed themselves even when others are asking to be fed? In bringing a clear and comprehensive awareness to our situation, we begin to accept our wanting self with compassion. This frees us to move forward, to break out of old patterns.

Merely recognizing, as she had in OA, that she was clinging to food as a substitute had not been enough to break the pattern. Forgiving and accepting the presence of the wanting self was the giant step in Sarah’s transformation. Although she had to continue consciously forgiving and letting go when craving arose, when she stopped blaming herself, her ability to be present was no longer compromised by overwhelming shame.

Guided Reflection: “Not Doing” When We Feel Driven by Wanting While grasping on to what we desire is part of our conditioning, it blinds us to our deeper longings and keeps us trapped in craving. Freedom begins when we pause and pay close attention to our experience. Reflect on an area of your life where you feel compelled by wanting mind. It might be food, cigarettes, alcohol, sex, voicing critical remarks, computer games, work or buying things. For one week let your intention be to practice pausing when you feel the urge to enact that behavior. When you pause, become physically still and pay close attention to the nature of wanting. What does your body feel like when wanting is strong? Where do you experience the sensations of wanting most fully? Do you feel them as butterflies in the stomach? As agitation in the chest? As aching in the arms? Do you feel as if you are leaning forward, tumbling into the future? Is your mind tight and speedy? Or sluggish and dull? Notice if your experience changes during the minute or so of pausing. You might ask yourself, “What is missing right now?” and listen with your heart. If, following the pause, you move into the behavior, do so slowly and mindfully. Do you feel tension or excitement, self-judgment or fear? Notice with a clear and compassionate attention the sensations, emotions and thoughts that may arise. While we might still pursue what we want after the pause, at least we do so aware of some of the tension and suffering that li...

Guided Reflection: Discovering Your Deepest Longing When we bring our myriad wants into the light of awareness, beneath them we find a deep and authentic wellspring of spiritual yearning. These core longings guide us on the path of awakening and freedom. Sit comfortably, in a way that allows you to be present and at ease. When you feel settled, ask yourself, “What does my heart long for?” Your initial answer might be that you want to be healthy, to lose weight, to make more money, to find a partner. Ask again and listen deeply, accepting whatever spontaneously arises. Continue in this way for several minutes, asking yourself the question, pausing and paying attention in an accepting and nonreactive way. Perhaps your answer will begin to deepen and simplify. Be patient and relaxed—with time, as you listen to your heart, your deepest longing will emerge. This longing might be expressed as the longing for love, presence, peace, communion, harmony, beauty, truth or freedom. When you recognize what you most deeply and truly long for in this moment, surrender to that longing wakefully. Say yes, allowing the energy of your deepest longing to fill your body, to suffuse your heart and awareness. What is your experience like when you fully inhabit your deepest longing? Continue to meditate, experiencing longing with an open and embodied presence. This beautiful reflection can also be explored between two people. Sit comfortably, facing each other. Decide who will first be in the rol...

The real cause of our fear is not always evident. When I feel anxious, the anxiety attaches itself to whatever is going on most immediately in my life. I might be stuck in a long line at the supermarket checkout counter, afraid I’m not going to get everything else done because I’m wasting precious time. I might have the early symptoms of a flu and worry that if it gets worse I’ll have to cancel clients or miss teaching my weekly meditation class. I might be helping my son with a school project due the next day and fear that if he doesn’t complete the assignment in a creative or thoughtful way his grade will go down and, with it, his options in choosing a college. Regardless of the external circumstances my mind grows tight. When I pause and ask what is really bothering me, I realize that in each situation I am anticipating loss—loss of something I think is essential to my life and happiness.

Feelings and stories of unworthiness and shame are perhaps the most binding element in the trance of fear. When we believe something is wrong with us, we are convinced we are in danger. Our shame fuels ongoing fear, and our fear fuels more shame.

Because we are responding to an accumulation of past pain, our reactions are out of proportion to what is happening in the moment. When someone criticizes us or disapproves of us, we get thrown back in time and have no access to our adult understanding. We feel as if we were a child who is powerless, alone and terrified. We lose our wallet, for instance, or are late for an appointment, and we feel as if the world is ending. Our overreaction is a further humiliation. The last thing we want is for others to know how much our life is overrun by the dogs from the cellar. If others see we are afraid, we fear we will be unappealing in their eyes—someone they pity but don’t respect or want to befriend. Yet as we pretend to be okay, we sink even more deeply into feeling separate, alone and threatened.

Taking refuge in the Buddha may be approached on various levels, and we can choose the way most meaningful to our particular temperament. We might take refuge in the historical Buddha, the human being who attained enlightenment under the bodhi tree twenty-five hundred years ago. When the Buddha encountered Mara, he felt fear—the same painfully constricted throat, chest and belly, the same racing heart that we each experience when fear strikes our heart. By willingly meeting fear with his full attention, the Buddha discovered fearlessness—the open, clear awareness that recognizes the arising and passing of fear without contracting or identifying with it. Taking refuge in the truth of his awakening can inspire us on our own path toward fearlessness. Those who are devotional by nature might seek safety and refuge in the living spirit of the Buddha’s awakened heart and mind. Much like praying to Christ or the Divine Mother, we can take refuge in a being or presence that cares about our suffering.

In the most fundamental way, taking refuge in the Buddha means taking refuge in our own potential for liberation. In order to embark on a spiritual path we need faith that our own heart and mind have the potential to awaken. The true power of Buddha’s story, the power that has kept it alive for all these centuries, rests in the fact that it demonstrates what is possible for each of us.

The second refuge, the dharma, is also richly layered in significance. A Sanskrit word,dharma means the truth, the way of things, the law of nature. Taking refuge in the dharma is taking refuge in the truth that everything within and around us is subject to change; the truth that if we try to hold on to or resist the stream of experience, we deepen the trance of fear. Dharma also refers to the body of teachings and practices that reveal the truth.

Because dharma is the law of nature, communing with the natural world is also a way of taking refuge in the dharma. When I sit by the Potomac River and watch the swirling currents, when I lean against a great sycamore tree and sense how its life will continue beyond my own, I intuitively grasp how my existence is vivid, changing, empty of any solid self. As we feel our belonging to the natural rhythms of life, the illusion of being separate and threatened begins to dissolve.

The third refuge is sangha. During the Buddha’s lifetime he taught that the sangha—the community of monks and nuns—was an essential support on the path of spiritual awakening. Traditionally, sangha has meant all those walking the path of dharma, the path of spiritual freedom. They too woke up in the middle of the night feeling frightened and alone. They too felt the quaking fear of loss and the terrifying certainty of death.

The Buddha, the dharma and the sangha are interconnected—they are mutually supportive and each naturally involves and unfolds into the others.

The Buddha taught that our fear is great, but greater still is the truth of our connectedness.

Taking refuge transforms our relationship with fear. When we feel the safety of belonging, we can begin to meet fear with Radical Acceptance.

Guided Meditation: Meeting Fear with an Open and Engaged Presence You will benefit from cultivating an open and engaged presence as described in this exercise during those times when you are not experiencing feelings and sensations linked to trauma. If your fear is related to trauma or feels overwhelming, the practice of being with fear may lead to emotional flooding and be inappropriate. In these cases, rather than facing fear on your own, it is important that you seek support from trusted friends, guidance from a meditation teacher or skillful help from a therapist. Find a comfortable place to sit where the view is not distracting or confined. You might look out a window or at a blank wall or an uncluttered space in your house. With your eyes open, rest your gaze on a point slightly above your line of sight. Soften your eyes so that they are unfocused and you are also receiving the images on the periphery of your vision. Relax the flesh around your eyes, letting your eyeballs float gently in their sockets. Take a few moments to do a quick scan through your body, releasing any tension, especially in the shoulders, hands and belly. Now with a receptive awareness, begin noticing the arising and disappearing of sounds in the space around you. Spend a minute or two simply listening. Be aware of nearby sounds, noticing their beginnings and endings. Notice the spaces between sounds. Become aware of more far-off sounds, then open to the most distant sounds you can detect. Relax ...

Guided Meditation: Becoming the Holder of Suffering Compassion begins with the capacity to hold your own life with a loving heart. Whenever you’re aware that you are suffering, if you offer yourself care—through attention, words and touch—compassion will naturally awaken. This meditation is especially useful when you are feeling emotional pain. Even if you do not immediately feel compassion for yourself, your willingness alone can reconnect you to your loving heart. Because compassion is intrinsic to your nature, it inevitably flowers. Find a comfortable position and take a few moments to breathe naturally and relax. Turn your attention to the hurt or grief, shame or fear you may be feeling. You might use your breath to deepen your attention to this suffering—breathing in and directly touching the feelings of vulnerability; breathing out and sensing the space of awareness that holds your experience. Invite the painful feelings to express their fullness, allowing them to swell and intensify through your body and mind. Begin offering words of care to the place within you that feels most vulnerable. You might silently say, “May I be free from suffering,” or as Thich Nhat Hanh suggests, say to yourself, “Darling, I care about this suffering.” Your prayer might be more specific: “May I be free from fear,” or, “May I feel safe and at peace.” As you continue to offer your caring prayers you might also place your hand on your cheek or your heart, letting the tenderness of your tou...

Guided Meditation: Invoking the Presence of the Beloved There are times we feel alone and afraid and wish we could curl up in the lap of the Buddha or some other manifestation of love and wisdom. When you long to be held in this way, allow yourself to reconnect with your own awakened heart by first reaching out to whatever you experience as the Beloved, the embodiment of compassion. Sitting comfortably and quietly, take a few full breaths. With a gentle and open attention, notice the fear or vulnerability you are feeling in your body and mind. Connect with your longing to be held in unconditional love. Bring to mind the image or sense of a person, a spiritual figure or a deity you associate with compassion. You may see the face of your grandmother or your dearest friend. You may see an image of the Buddha, Kwan Yin or Christ, or you may call to mind an all-merciful God. With a silent prayer, ask this being to be present with you. You may experience the being gazing at you with unconditional love. Look into the eyes that regard you with understanding and complete acceptance. Placing your attention on your heart and aware of your longing, experience this compassionate being as absolutely present and available, as wanting to be here with you. Now imagine this being’s presence as a radiant and boundless field of light. Visualize and feel that you are surrounded by this warm luminosity, held in this being’s loving embrace. See how fully you can surrender, letting your hurt and ...

By paying attention we let ourselves be touched by life, and our hearts naturally become more open and engaged.

When we look at our own lives and at the history of humanity, we realize that hatred, anger and all forms of dislike are a pervasive and natural part of being alive. Aversion arises because we are so deeply conditioned to feel separate and different from others. As Gandhi found, only by dedicating ourselves to some form of intentional training can we dissolve this tendency and embrace all beings with Radical Acceptance.

Compassion for ourselves naturally leads to compassion for others. While love describes our basic feeling of relatedness, compassion for others is the flavor of love that arises when we see this truth of our shared suffering.

we can train ourselves to include everyone in our heart.

This practice of intentionally reflecting on suffering—our own and that of others—is the basic form of Buddhist compassion meditations. We include the suffering of those we cherish, those we barely know, those we find difficult and those we have never met, out to the widest circle.

when we reflect on the suffering of others, we realize we are not alone in our pain.

as the wise man reminded him, spiritual awakening is inextricably involved with others. As Theophane focused on the needs of those he had been given to serve, he would recognize their vulnerability and longing for love—and realize that their needs were no different from his own. The question the wise man suggested was wonderfully crafted for awakening in Theophane the true spiritual depth that comes from paying close attention to other human beings.

When we are caught in our own self-centered drama, everyone else becomes “other” to us, different and unreal.

Because involvement with our personal desires and concerns prevents us from paying close attention to anyone else, those around us—even family and friends—can become unreal, two-dimensional cardboard figures, not humans with wants and fears and throbbing hearts.

The more different someone seems from us, the more unreal they may feel to us. We can too easily ignore or dismiss people when they are of a different race or religion, when they come from a different socioeconomic “class.” Assessing them as either superior or inferior, better or worse, important or unimportant, we distance ourselves.

Once someone is an unreal other, we lose sight of how they hurt.

The poet Longfellow writes, “If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.”

When our hearts harden in defense, it does not mean we are failing as bodhisattvas. It just lets us know that we need to befriend what is happening inside us before compassion for others can naturally arise.

Thoreau writes, “Is there a greater miracle than to see through another’s eyes, even for an instant?”

Guided Meditation: Tonglen— Awakening the Heart of Compassion The Tibetan practice of tonglen cultivates the all-embracing heart of compassion. Tonglen means “taking in and sending out.” Linked to the flow of the breath, this practice trains you to open directly to suffering—your own and that of all beings—and offer relief and care. The following meditation is a version of tonglen that can help you awaken compassion in the face of suffering. There are times when tonglen may be inappropriate. If you are struggling with the terror of having been abused, with unrelenting depression or severe emotional imbalance, tonglen may cause emotional flooding, or a deepened feeling of being stuck. In these situations, rather than practicing tonglen, seek guidance from a therapist, a teacher familiar with this practice, or a trusted spiritual guide. Sit in a way that allows you to be relaxed and alert. Feeling the natural rhythm of your breath, let your body and mind settle. The traditional practice of tonglen begins with a flash of remembrance, recognizing the awakened heart and mind. With your eyes open, take a brief moment to sense the immensity of space and the natural openness and emptiness of awareness. Now bring to mind an experience of suffering. It might be your own pain or the suffering of someone close to you—a friend or family member, a pet or other living being. Let yourself feel this suffering in an immediate, vivid, close-in way. Let it be real to you—the loss, hurt or fea...

Whenever you become aware of suffering, you can practice tonglen. You might see on the TV news a family who has just lost their home in a flood or fire. You might be traveling on the freeway and see a car accident. You might be at an AA meeting, listening as someone describes his or her struggle with alcoholism. Right on the spot you can breathe in, letting yourself feel the immediacy and sharpness of that hurt and fear. Exhaling, release the pain into the openness of awareness, with a prayer for relief. After spending some minutes in this way, enlarge the field of compassion, breathing for all beings who are suffering from loss or trauma or addiction.

When we have been betrayed, one of our first reactions is to lash out in blame. We create a story of good and bad and aim our anger at the one who has caused us pain. With deep resentment, we build a case against them, often with enough evidence to prove we should eliminate them from our life altogether. The word resentment means “to feel again.” Each time we repeat to ourselves a story of how we’ve been wronged, we feel again in our body and mind the anger at being violated. But often enough our resentment of others reflects our resentment of ourselves. When someone rejects us, he or she might be reinforcing a view we already hold—that we’re not good enough, not kind enough, not lovable enough.

To recognize this basic goodness in everyone takes courage.

the essence of human bravery is “refusing to give up on anyone or anything.” This can be especially hard when we’re trying to see the goodness in a murderer, the CEO of a corporation that pollutes the planet, a child molester. Basic goodness can be buried under an ugly tangle of fear, greed and hostility, and seeing it doesn’t mean overlooking harmful behavior in ourselves or others. To radically accept life depends upon clearly seeing the full truth of it.

“There is only one heroism in the world: to see the world as it ...

Whether our anger and resentment is directed at another or at ourselves, the result is the same—it removes us from the deeper pain of our hurt and shame. As long as we avoid these feelings, we remain trapped in our armor, locked away from love for ourselves and others.

Whether we are angry with ourselves or others, we forgive by letting go of blame and opening to the pain we have tried to push away.

We are so used to replaying the story of what is wrong with ourselves and others that living with a resentful, tight heart can become our most familiar way of being.

If we’re caught up in considering ourselves bad, we contract and hide. In contrast, if we trust our goodness, we open up to others, we feel inspired to help others, we move forward on our spiritual path with dedication and joy.

There are several practices that are traditionally offered as ways to remember our goodness. We might begin by simply reflecting on certain qualities or behaviors that we appreciate in ourselves. For instance, when I recall instances of being kind to someone, I can taste the sweetness of being caring and generous. I might remember a time when I put aside my own agenda to stop and listen deeply to someone, or spontaneously gave a friend a book she might like. When I feel moved by the music of Mozart or awed by a starry night sky, I feel part of the goodness and beauty of life. When life strikes me as funny, I feel real and human and basically good. Sometimes though, the idea of appreciating myself can feel awkward or self-serving. When this is the case, it feels more honest to acknowledge my basic desire to be happy, to recognize that I, like all human beings, long to be loved, yearn to feel my goodness. When I pay attention to the depth of these longings, I reconnect to a genuine feeling of warmth toward myself.

We can’t will ourselves to forgive—forgiving is a product not of effort but of openness. This is why the intention to forgive is such a key element in the process.

Even when it’s hard to appreciate goodness in someone, we can send lovingkindness anyway. At first we might feel fake or irritated; our good wishes may feel hollow or flat. But if we can regard those feelings with kindness and continue the practice, a surprising thing happens. By simply offering care, our care begins to wake up. Each morning after meditating, Matt would sit for a few minutes to practice lovingkindness. Remembering good things about himself did begin to ease his heart a bit. Sending wishes for happiness to his friends and neutral people was easy and felt good. When he got to his mother, at first the practice felt rote, but he said the phrases anyway: “Mother, may you be happy. May you feel peaceful. May you feel filled with lovingkindness.” Some days he’d just repeat over and over, “May you accept yourself just as you are.”

As he gazed at her pale and emaciated face and listened to her labored breath, he saw, not the needy person trying to get something from him, not the frightened person demanding constant reassurance, but simply a being who wanted to be loved. She had been a widow for fifteen years. Who had really hugged her all this time? Who had held her, let her be vulnerable, let her feel embraced and loved? Now, outside all the roles and identities by which he had defined his mother, Matt saw the truth that all she had ever really wanted was to love and be loved.

Guided Meditation: Cultivating a Forgiving Heart While softening and opening our hearts cannot be willed, the following meditations nourish a willingness that makes forgiveness possible. They are based on the traditional Buddhist practices in which we first ask forgiveness from others, then offer forgiveness to ourselves and, finally, to those who have caused us injury. Asking for Forgiveness Sitting comfortably, close your eyes and allow yourself to become present and still. Rest your attention on the breath for a few moments, relaxing as you breathe in and relaxing as you breathe out. Bring to mind a situation in which you have caused harm to another person. You might have intentionally hurt someone with insulting words or by hanging up the phone in a fit of anger. Or you might have caused pain unintentionally in the way you ended a romantic relationship, or by being preoccupied and not realizing your child needed some special attention. Maybe you feel you have been causing harm to someone over and over again through the years, violating him or her with your flare-ups of temper or lack of care. Take some moments to remember the circumstances that highlight how you have caused harm to another, and sense the feelings of hurt, disappointment or betrayal that person might have felt. Now, holding this person in your awareness, begin asking for forgiveness. Mentally whisper his or her name and say, “I understand the hurt you have felt and I ask your forgiveness now. Please for...

Stay together, friends. Don’t scatter and sleep. Our friendship is made Of being awake. Rumi

In his book Touching Peace, Thich Nhat Hanh draws upon the Buddha’s teachings to offer ways to handle situations when we’ve hurt others. The key elements are: taking responsibility for causing pain to another, listening deeply to understand the person’s suffering, sincerely apologizing and renewing our resolve to act with compassion toward this person and all beings. Much like making amends in twelve-step programs, these simple yet powerful ways of paying attention and relating wisely with others open and free our heart.