Awakening compassion with tonglen practice

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I love incorporating small healing acts in my life. We can’t always go on a 3-day meditation retreat, but we can take a few seconds or a few minutes to practice a tiny act of healing. This series will dive into small healing acts that can help you feel connected, loved, and seen. Please share your own in the comments, too.

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Tonglen practice, also known as ‘taking and sending,’ reverses our usual logic of avoiding suffering and seeking pleasure. In tonglen practice, we visualize taking in the pain of others with every in-breath and sending out whatever will benefit them on the out-breath. In the process, we become liberated from age- old patterns of selfishness. We begin to feel love for both ourselves and others; we begin to take care of ourselves and others. — Pema Chödrön

Though I’ve categorized tonglen as a small healing act, this is a life-changing practice.

I started practicing tonglen in my worst place. I had completely isolated myself. Wrapped myself so tightly in shame and self-hate that no one could get in.

I turned to Buddhism for forgiveness and compassion practices, feeling that if I could be a better person, that might at least give me some relief.

Tonglen is considered an essential practice for developing compassion, because as Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön writes, it reverses our usual habit of avoiding suffering.

To do tonglen, we breathe in another’s pain and we breathe out our own inner resources: our calm, happiness, groundedness, or whatever we can send out.

At first, I was afraid that I might send out too much: I needed that calm and happiness! After exhaling it, would I have any left for myself?

But I needed a practice for dealing with difficult daily life moments. Like when you hear sirens wail past your house, or when you read another terrible news story. You know something bad has happened, but with the onslaught of sirens and terrible news stories, you risk becoming numb. You feel guilty about this, but you can’t help it — you just can’t deal with all the suffering in the world. You close off, slowly.

Tonglen became my saving grace. I started small: every time a siren went by my house, I imagined what might be happening and breathed in those people’s suffering: their sadness, or fear, or loss. I breathed out what little I felt I had: a roof over my head, stable employment, and my own present calm, wishing for them to feel that too.

What happened was fairly miraculous. Instead of closing off to the pain that something was wrong, I felt closer to the people who needed help. I felt worried about them and hoped that my tiny prayer would give them a small amount of peace, somehow. I imagined myself in their shoes. I felt a small amount of what they might be feeling, in my body — not taking on so much that I felt overwhelmed, but whatever small amount that I could absorb and diffuse with my peace and positive intention.

I next started working with news stories, which is when something else miraculous happened.

I realized that tonglen, which I had begun to cultivate compassion for others, was actually helping me.

When we read about painful news stories, how many of us feel it in our bodies? A heavy heart, a knot in our stomachs, a desire to cry? Most, maybe all of us.

By breathing out peace towards those affected, we become agents: instead of getting overwhelmed, we take action to reduce suffering and send out what we can. And this is a great relief.

Obviously, I’m not suggesting that tonglen replace activism. “Thoughts and prayers” is so often a cop-out of real social tragedies.

Rather, tonglen becomes a component of our activism. A way of continuously putting ourselves in touch with the suffering of others — of gently chipping away at our self-enclosed cocoons.

It soothes us.

It connects us.

I’ve been practicing tonglen for two years now, and it’s become an automatic reaction. When I see other people’s emotional pain, I take a breath. Feeling into their pain, sending them out my peace.

Over time, the love I feel for others has grown.

Because as you practice tonglen,

you realize what connects us is this human suffering.

That you share it in common with every single other human on the planet.

That someone else’s present malady or grief could become yours.

That very little ever really separates us, at the core.

It is even advisable to practice tonglen towards your enemies, as you’re ready. Not to blast through your feelings, especially towards those who have hurt you,

but to gently, gently unfurl the separation between you and I.

So the next time you hear sirens go off,

or you read a difficult news article,

breathe first. Breathe to yourself.

Then as you’re able, breathe in the suffering behind the story.

And breathe out your love for those people.

For a full guide on how to practice traditional Buddhist tonglen, click here.

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash