Intention Is the Practice
On the Buddhist path, says Zen teacher Norman Fischer, our intention deepens into commitment and then into vow. At that point, our intentions and our life become one.
When you practice meditation, you are assured of success. But by “success” I don’t mean that things will go as you hope they will.
When you meditate, you soon forget about whether things go as you hope they will. You are happy to be surprised by what happens, knowing you can make use of anything for your practice. In that way, your meditation is always successful, no matter what arises. All you have to do is do it.
But here’s the problem: it is difficult to sustain a meditation practice. We are so easily sidetracked, distracted, and discouraged. Events of our lives throw us off almost every day. Our intention to practice wobbles and wavers.
Intention is everything. If your mind is always aligned with your intention to practice, you are always practicing. Practice is the spirit of practice, more than any specific activity. The mind of practice is practice. And that’s intention.
What is intention? Probably we can’t completely define it. Like all inner states, it’s hard to grasp. Intention has to do with purpose. Its Old English/French/Latin root intendere implies “to stretch.” So intention is to grow, to develop, toward something purposeful.
Intention is closely connected to two other important inner activities that are foundational for Buddhist practice: commitment and vow. Let’s see how the three work together.
Intention: Somehow the events of my life and the feelings I have about those events bring me to want to think, feel, and act in a particular way.
Commitment: Affirming my intention, I commit to staying with it. I confirm it in my heart.
Vow: I identify with my commitment as myself. No matter what happens—lifetime after lifetime (that is, in a scope wider than I can ever know or experience)—I vow to go on with my commitment.
In the practice of vowing there is no sense that I will ever fully accomplish what I intend. My vow is beyond that—it is to keep on going with my practice forever. In Zen we call this the bodhisattva vow, to practice forever for the sake of all sentient beings. Dogen calls it continuous practice. In Zen, “practice” always means practice for and with others. There is no other kind of practice.
Recently I interviewed the poet Alice Notley about her relationship with Philip Whalen, the late great Buddhist Beat poet. Philip was a Zen priest and one of my dearest teachers. I asked Alice if Philip had ever talked to her about Buddhism. She said, “We had one conversation once, right after my husband died. I told him I needed to take a vow so I could go on. He said there was only one vow in Zen—the bodhisattva vow. He told me what it was, and I took that vow in my head.”
This is an example of someone who, without any other formal practice, has built a life on intention and vow.
Zen, following the sweeping teachings of Mahayana Buddhism, proposes that “all beings have buddhanature,” or, as Dogen purposely misreads it, “all beings are buddhanature.” That is, our basic human nature is awakening, goodness, compassion, connection, and love.
In the practice of vowing there is no sense that I will ever fully accomplish what I intend.
But if this is true, why is life so hard? Why is sustaining the intention to spiritual practice, committing to it, and vowing to go on so difficult? Why is the human world so full of violence, unfairness, and selfishness if we are all buddhanature?
In a short short sutra in the Pali canon, the Buddha says, “This mind, O monks, is luminous. Only it is covered by adventitious defilements from without.”
In other words, the mind, consciousness, is basically buddha (“luminous”). However, the luminousness of the mind has been covered over by bad conditions and the accumulation of our bad responses to those conditions over time. So it is hard for us to see.
When conditions of our life bring us to the intention to see our own luminous beauty, we are going to be okay. We don’t know exactly what will happen but we have confidence in our practice. The path is clear—even when sometimes it may seem not to be. All the activity of Buddhist practice is for the purpose of developing our intention until it becomes our vow, and our intention and our life are one.
Four Reflections That Strengthen Your Intention to Practice
Every time we sit in meditation, every time we turn the mind toward positive thought and action to benefit others, we are strengthening our intention, our commitment, and our vow to practice continuously—moment after moment forever.
The “four great reflections” is a traditional contemplation for developing intention. It is the first of the fifty-nine mind training (lojong) slogans of Indo–Tibetan Buddhism. It is called “Resolve to Begin,” for if you contemplate these four great truths of life you will strengthen your intention to practice.
1. THE RARITY AND PRECIOUSNESS OF A HUMAN LIFE.
Think about it: you have been born into this colorful world with others. You have everything you need. You have been lovingly cared for and nurtured. You can see, hear, taste, touch, smell, and think. You can love and be loved. Your soul can know beauty. This is an incomparable gift.
Stop and take a few breaths to contemplate the gift of human life you have received…
2. DEATH IS INEVITABLE AND UNPREDICTABLE.
No one can escape death and no one knows when it will come. It comes in the night, in the morning, in the afternoon, or evening. It comes at home or while away. You can die this evening, one week from today, one month, one year, one decade.
Life is brief. No one knows how long it will last. Children die, young people die, old people die. Every day, millions of people depart this life. One day, you don’t know when, it will be your turn.
Stop and take a few breaths to contemplate this…
3. SUFFERING IS INEVITABLE.
No one escapes pain—physical pain, loss, dishonor, disrespect, loneliness, anxiety, panic, stress, fear. Not even the most fortunate among us escapes. These days we divide the world into those who are privileged and those who are not. But in Buddhism we recognize that all beings born into this world suffer. This is our basic condition.
Stop and take a few breaths to contemplate this….
4. THE INDELIBLE POWER OF ALL OUR ACTIONS.
Throughout our lives and at the time of death, the only thing we really have is the power of our thoughts, words, and deeds. These can be allies and protectors, or they can make our lives miserable.
Everything depends on how we conduct ourselves. In the end we can’t depend on our bodies, our wealth, or our intelligence—not even our relationships. No one can accompany us on our final journey. But the words, thoughts, and deeds of a lifetime will shape the path we walk.
Stop and take a few minutes to contemplate this…
