1. NOT TO CONTRAVENE ANY COMMITMENTS WE HAVE ALREADY MADE IN OUR SPIRITUAL PRACTICE: If we are following the Buddhist path for spiritual growth, we make commitments as a consequence of taking refuge in the Buddha, the dharma, and the Sangha. Many of us have taken the five lay precepts, and possibly Bodhisattva and tantric precepts as well, if we have received tantric initiation. There are also the ten wholesome actions to be followed and ten unwholesome actions to be avoided. The author here emphasizes that, even if the Mind Training becomes the central core of our practice, it does not substitute for other commitments that we have taken upon ourselves, or allow us to ignore them.

Essentially this concerns ethics and morality, which are said to be the basis on which all spiritual practice is founded. Without a morally wholesome way of life, nothing we do can lead to awakening - not yoga, or pranayama, or samadhi, or high tantric practice. Let's not try to build a house on sand. Whatever commitments we make, let us keep them for our own sake and for that of others.

2. NOT TO ALLOW OUR MIND TRAINING TO BECOME OSTENTATIOUS: As we develop greater courage in this practice and become skilled at transforming unfavorable circumstances, we may as a result become overconfident, ostentatiously seeking out dangerous situations. Is it the power of our compassion that leads us to risk contagious disease in order to be of service, for example, or is it the desire to show off the superiority of our attainment? Avoid this false sense of invulnerability.

3. NOT TO LET THE MIND TRAINING BECOME LOPSIDED: Imagine a very strong dharma practitioner who, when strangers insult her, cheat her, or harm her in any way, practices the essence of the Mind Training very well. She easily transforms these unfavorable circumstances by cultivating patience, loving kindness, and compassion. On the other hand, she has less inclination to practice dharma with those with whom she comes into frequent contact. For her husband, children, and immediate relatives, she has less tolerance, feeling, "I am in charge here and I won't take any nonsense." Alternatively, one may practice very well within a supportive environment, surrounded by dharma friends or a spouse who is also a practitioner, but fall apart in the company of others who have no interest in dharma.

Some of us may find it easy to train our minds with regard to harm from non-human sources, but more difficult where people are concerned. If lightning strikes, if a tile comes through the roof, if you stumble and sprain an ankle, there is no culprit to point a finger at. We may be able to integrate a thunderstorm calmly into our practice as we meditate on mental stabilization, but a truck goes rumbling by and we think, "This is terrible! What a lousy retreat facility!" If the wind whistles through the house, there is no problem; but if a person walks by whistling, the thought arises, "Doesn't this guy know that I'm meditating? This is private property. Why can't he be more sensitive when I'm trying to develop bodhicitta?" Our conceptual conditioning is at work here.

Others may have patience for the harm brought on by human beings, but not for animals. We can handle a child's noise, for instance, but a mouse gnawing on tin foil makes us really uptight. An insect bites a person: slap! One sentient being has been mashed. We may feel certain we would never kill a deer or a cat, or even kick a dog. But if there is a rat in the house, out comes the trap.

Or we may draw boundaries arbitrarily in terms of basic ethics. Though we avoid harming human beings physically, we might be less scrupulous about harming them verbally. We might feel quite free to slander people behind their backs, in ways that would seem terrible to their faces. These actions are no less harmful.

These are only a few of the many ways that our practice can be unbalanced. And practice that is lopsided with bias or prejudice does not form a suitable foundation for deep spiritual growth.

Excerpted from: A Passage from Solitude, by B. Alan Wallace. 1992 by Snow Lion Publications, Ithaca, New York 14851.