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Four Resolves: Wisdom, Truth, Relinquishment, Peace

Hi everyone, and welcome.

This evening I want to talk about the topic of resolve. Maybe resolve is a burdensome concept, like you have to work at something. The ancient word for it is adhiṭṭhāna^[1]. One person translates it—one book translated it—as "the foundation." The word can literally mean something closer to the English words "to take a stand," "to stand in something," or "a special place to stand." So it's a place where we kind of come out of, take our stand on, or are supported by.

Part of the value of this resolve—some people translate it as a vow or aspiration—is that, to the degree to which Buddhist practice encourages us to let go deeply, or brings us to a place where the ordinary idea of self is not operating so much, or brings us to a place where we no longer can live with some of the values we've been living with before (some of the orientations or purposes of our life that we had before), it's easy to feel disoriented. It's easy to feel a certain kind of, "What's the purpose?" or "How do I orient myself now?"

The Buddha said once, "You know nothing whatsoever is worth clinging to." Well, if nothing is worth clinging to, and I've been clinging my whole life to something or other to be motivated, to know what to do, then what do I do when I don't cling? Do I just sit at home on the couch? What do I do?

So, in this context, Buddhism offers resolves, aspirations, and vows—a certain kind of orientation, a way to live in the world that can guide us and support us. It can be a place to stand, a standing place, an orientation, and a foundation for ourselves.

In our early Buddhist tradition, there are four resolves that are taught, and the teaching is to stay close to these. These can guide us. These can support us. So when in doubt, live with these resolves. I think of them as being so important, such a good foundation or place to come from, that if someone asks you, "What do you do?"—I think in modern English, basically they're asking you what your work is; it's almost synonymous. Sometimes in our modern society, career and work are kind of overrated. Sometimes people's sense of worth comes from the work they do, their status, or the appreciation that people think, "Oh, this person's special," because of the work they do.

If someone asks you, "What do you do?", one answer is you can say, "Oh, I do these four resolves. I stand in these four resolves." They are that important. For some people, they might actually be more important than a career or work; this would be the guiding principles of a life.

The Four Resolves

There are four resolves. The first is to be resolved on wisdom. The second is to be resolved on the truth. The third is to be resolved on letting go, giving up, or relinquishing. It's a wonderful word, the Pali word here, cāga^[2]—C-A-G-A—because the word can also mean giving or generosity. The fact that the word for letting go or relinquishing also means to give or be generous is a fascinating topic. And the fourth resolve is to resolve on peace.

Wisdom, truth, letting go, and peace: these are worthwhile places to take a stand or to be oriented. You can ask yourself in any situation you're in: "How do I relate to this wisely? What's true here? What's really the significant truth of the moment that I'm overlooking and not noticing because I'm involved in my desires, my fears, or my planning for the future? What is the truth of this moment?"

"What is it that is appropriate to relinquish here, to not hold on to anymore, to let go? And how is this letting go in the moment a generous thing to do, not a diminishment of self or of our life, and not impoverishing us, but something that is generous?" Generosity maybe comes from a feeling of inner wealth. We have an abundance of well-being, and of course, we are happy to let go so other people have space; we are not impoverished. And then, "Where's the peace here? Is there peace in this situation? Is there a place for peacefulness here?"

Now, this might seem like an artificial or strange orientation to have as we go through life. But when we think about what many people are actually resolved on—maybe sometimes unconsciously, they don't even know they're resolved on things—these are pretty good resolves to live by. Some people are resolved on greed. Some people are resolved on complaining, hostility, and blame. Some people are resolved on fear and anxiety. Some people are resolved on hanging on to the past, memories, and ideas. Some people are resolved on fantasies of the future, delusions of grandeur of some kind or other, or resolved on being safe.

I like the little quote, the cliché that says, "A boat is safe in a harbor, but that's not what a boat was built for." If we spend a lot of time trying to keep ourselves safe, we weren't actually built to always be safe. To be resolved on that, maybe we shortchange ourselves. Some people are resolved on money, wealth, status, and power. Some people are resolved on being loved and being respected. Some of these, of course, are not necessarily wrong to be oriented towards. But if they're the center of life, maybe we're missing out on something. Maybe we're diminished with those resolves if that's really what we're all about.

I propose that these four resolves are different. If we resolve on those, they don't necessarily prevent us from doing all other kinds of things. They don't replace the things that we might do in our life. But if we take our stand in these four resolves, that will radically change how we do all the things that we do. Maybe some of the ways in which we engage the world are not so healthy for ourselves and for others, and to engage in the world and do the things that we do from a different orientation can be powerful.

Wisdom

The first resolve is wisdom. This is to be wise about how we view our situation, to be wise in how we approach our situation, wise in what we do, and how we understand what we're doing. It is to just ask that question: "What's the wise thing to do here? What's the wise approach to this? What's the wise way of seeing the situation?"

Some of the ways that we view things are not particularly wise. If we look through the filter of our greed, ambition, hostility, blame, or anxiety, those aren't really wise ways. It doesn't help us see clearly. It doesn't help us see how to live usefully in a good way. So are there different ways of seeing, different ways of relating to the situation we're in?

Oddly enough, one of the wise ways that Buddhism emphasizes—what we look for, what we study—is to study where the stress is. It's wise to notice where there's tension, suffering, and pain, not so we can suffer more, but so that we can understand that it's happening, that it's there, so we can be with it in a different way. Part of wisdom is to be with what's challenging, with the stressful situation, in order to understand it better—to understand particularly our contributions to it. What are we doing that contributes to the way we feel uncomfortable, stressed, afraid, upset, or whatever it might be?

It's wise to study this, to look at this, and to understand it. If there are ways that we contribute to our own stress, then maybe we can let go of it if we know what it is. But if we ignore the suffering we have, the stress we have, and the tension we have, and we ignore our contribution to it, then there's no way of knowing what we can do personally to make the situation better.

One of the ways that's not wise is to spend a lot of time blaming others, being resentful, or complaining about others. I'm sure there are people who are definitely appropriate to blame for things that happen in the world, but if we're always resolved on blaming other people and never look at ourselves, we once again limit our lives. We narrow our lives. This movement of looking into ourselves wisely—looking at where our suffering is, where our tension, grasping, and clinging is, and letting go of it—is actually a movement that opens us up. It does the opposite of limiting ourselves; it creates a more unlimited way of being in the world. This is a core form of Buddhist wisdom: to be wise about our suffering.

Truth

The second resolve is to be wise about what's true—to know the truth, to ask, "What is true here?" Of course, there are many things you can say are true. If someone asks me what's true in the moment here, I could say, "Well, there's blue tape on the floor that's crooked." That's not the kind of truth that will set you free, unless you're a Zen master—they can say things like that, but it's not going to go that far for us.

If I'm sitting here, what's true might be that I appreciate sitting here with you. I value that you came here today, and I take your interest in the Dharma seriously. I feel like I would like to offer something to you that respects your interest in coming here. That's true. It has a different feeling to recognize that than to recognize that someone put the tape down crooked. (It's okay for me to say it because I was the one who did it!) [Laughter]

I suppose what's true as well is that I have a teeny bit of apprehension and nervousness about being back teaching in person again, and whether my offering is useful for you, helpful, and worth your time. I don't know how useful that truth is, but I recognize it's also here. So rather than having that concern eat at me, bother me, or inhibit me, I just recognize it's there. It's true. And knowing it's true, it's okay. It can accompany me. It's not going to interfere with what I do here; I'm not caught up in it and concerned.

I don't know if those are good examples, but the idea is to recognize what's really true here. What's true that has to do with our suffering? What's true about our freedom? What's true about our appreciation of things? The love of the moment? What's the truth that brings this moment into a kind of fullness, into a place where we can meet other people, be connected, feel grounded, and feel like it's wonderful to be alive? Is there a truth that would provide that for us? What if there is? Wouldn't it be kind of sad not to stop, notice it, and recognize it?

We want to discover what is true. Part of what the Buddhist tradition emphasizes is recognizing the truth of where we're grasping, what we're clinging to, and what we're resisting. If we recognize the truth of that, then there's hope to release it, to look through it to the other side. But if we don't see the truth of it, then we can't do that work.

Sometimes it's the opposite. We can see the truth of our freedom, the truth of our vitality and connectedness to ourselves, to others, and to the world that comes when we're not caught in the grip of clinging, resistance, or preoccupation. We recognize that truth, live it, connect to people, and be present.

Relinquishment

Then there is this truth of relinquishment, letting go. If I use the phrase "giving up," it might be kind of depressing; there are all kinds of relationship connotations. But it has the word "giving" in it. The Pali word for relinquishment, cāga, also means generosity or giving. In the Buddhist language, you find all these words that have this double meaning: generosity or giving, and letting go.

In English, the phrase "giving up" apparently was originally related to the expression of offering something up on the altar, like some sacred thing. I don't know if that's true, but that's what I've read. Now, we also have the expression "giving in." You give in to someone, and it's a little bit depressing, but it has the word "giving" in it. So maybe there's a deeper, wonderful way of giving in.

On the freeway sometimes, I like to give way to people. Someone wants to merge into my lane, and I probably have the right to be there. It looks safe, and it took a long time to get into that lane. When someone gets in front of me, I could just insist that I get my way and let them deal with the shoulder of the road. But what I like to do is give way: "Here, you can have it, please." Sort of give way, give in, give up.

So what can we relinquish here that is a healthy, wonderful place to take a stand? Where do we relinquish, not so that we're diminished, but so we become bigger, more alive, or more present? Where life feels more worth living than being closed in, held down, and holding onto something?

What are we holding onto? What are we clinging to when we feel socially awkward with other people? It's a remarkable, and sometimes offensive, Buddhist idea—other people might say it too—that while there's certainly a lot of attachment in the conceit of being special, there can be just as much conceit in being shy. It might seem like shy people don't have much of a self, but there's still a deep concern with the self there. Where is it appropriate to let go of self-concern? Self-concern limits us. Shyness can be limiting, but so can conceits of grandeur. Even if people agree with you and it feels pretty good, it limits us a lot. It becomes a small world to live in. To let go of conceit—wow, what a great thing.

How can we take a stand on relinquishment and let it be a kind of generosity? What would it look like if a form of wealth or happiness comes from relinquishing out of a place of abundance? To tap into a sense of inner abundance that's not dependent on material goods or status. That's one of the great possibilities of meditation practice: to discover or awaken a feeling of inner abundance that comes with the freedom and fullness of no longer limiting ourselves with fear. Relinquishment becomes an offering of that abundance outwards. It's not giving something up; it's a gain.

I'm fond of the idea that when some people think of letting go, they think it means we're going to drop something. As far as my reading has been, the Buddha rarely, if ever, talks about letting go of things; he talks about letting go of the clinging. If you hold something and you let go of the clinging to it, you might still be holding it. If you respect everything, you don't drop things. You just hold it with a gesture of generosity, like a hand held open, palm upwards. We can use our wisdom to know whether it should be given to someone or put down. But letting go with the palm facing upwards is holding whatever's there, rather than dropping it.

To take a stand in relinquishment is generous. It releases a certain generosity that comes from abundance and provides a sense of abundance.

Peace

The fourth resolve is the resolve of peace.

There is an excellent time to be resolved on peace. There's a particular circumstance where it's a really good thing to do. The best time to resolve on peace is when it's better than the alternative! [Laughter] And how often do you think that occurs? If you have a better thing going on than peace, by all means, forget about peace. But if the alternative isn't as good, you might want to consider it.

I like the word ease rather than peace. Somehow the word peace is nice, but ease has a more embodied feeling for me. It's how I act, how I live, what kind of processes are going on inside. There's an ease to what happens, whereas peace, in my vocabulary, feels a little static. My ease is more dynamic.

To take a stand on peace means noticing when the alternative is to take a stand on war, conflict, or being in opposition with reality. When reality is not cooperating—the weather is not good, it's raining, and it doesn't really understand that today was not the day to rain because I had important things to do—to be resolved on peace means one wouldn't be angry at the clouds. Where is the peace in this circumstance? Where do I find ease with whatever is going on?

It's not a passive acceptance of the situation. It's not condoning situations. It is operating from a place of being peaceful, being at ease, being calm, perhaps with a certain tranquility in engaging and doing the things we have to do.

There were times in my life when I was younger where I was quick to be alarmed by situations. "Ah, we got to do something!" I called 9-1-1 a few times, thinking, "Oh, there's something terrible going on, we have to call 9-1-1!" And then a few minutes later, after I calmed down, I looked at the situation and said, "There's not a problem here." I hope that never happens to any of you. But the ability to be peaceful or calm lets us see the situation clearly.

I have a lot of friends who have had dangerous things happen to them, and because they stayed calm, some creative thinking arose for them in the moment to take care of the situation. One person I know was being held up in San Francisco by some teenagers. It looked like a dangerous situation, and the person suddenly found himself saying, "You're no Christian! What would your mother think?" That kind of stressed and stunned them a little bit, and then they ran away. He had a little moment there that somehow caught them off guard. I don't recommend that strategy particularly, but something inside of him knew to do that. This creativity, intuition, or understanding of a situation happens well when we're peaceful. It doesn't happen when we're anxious.

Coming from the Four Resolves

Someone might ask you, "Where do you come from?" Conventionally, they might say where you were born, where you grew up, where you lived last, or where you live now. But if you want to say where you're most coming from, you could say, "I come from the resolve on wisdom, truth, relinquishment, and peace."

They might even ask you, "Who are you?" You might truthfully say something that seems more true than anything else: "I'm the resolve on wisdom, truth, relinquishment, and peace." These things can be that central to your life. But chances are if you answered that way, you'd annoy some people, so you probably shouldn't do it that easily. [Laughter]

But there might be some people who would appreciate it. They might be inspired, because it's unusual in this life to have people who root their lives in beautiful, inspiring values. And I think that's what Buddhism is recommending and pointing to. It's not just a life of meditation, stress reduction, or being calm. It's a life that is really rooted or centered on inspiring values and possibilities.

When you have these experiences where the self seems to dissolve, or where meaning is not found anywhere, or you feel disoriented from having let go really deeply, these resolves provide a foundation to hold you. They provide a place to stand. You know it's okay, because you are committed to wisdom, truth, letting go, generosity, and peace.

What a great place to come from. What a great place to base one's life on, especially if you can understand how healthy they are, and how they bring forth a delightful spiritual health to ourselves and the world around us.

If you have better resolves, great. But if these four resolves are the better alternative for you, you might want to consider them until you find something better. They're pretty good. You're not going to go wrong with them.

Thank you. Those are my thoughts. We have a little bit of time, five minutes or so, if any of you want to ask a question, comment, or just say something about any of this. It's lovely to hear your voices; it feels very special to be together.

Q&A

Ryan: Hello, Ryan is my name. I think what resonated for me most was what you're talking about with truth. I thought it was an interesting contrast that you said this objective truth—like that there's a blue piece of tape on the floor—wasn't as meaningful a truth as the subjective aspect of your experience, like feeling apprehensive about what you're saying. That's not objectively verifiable truth; it's almost like an opinion from our standard way of looking at things. So calling attention to the fact that there's this aspect of our inner experience, our feeling tone or the way we're relating, that's like the most fundamental truth... I thought that was really interesting. So thanks for saying that.

Gil Fronsdal: Yeah, I think the distinction you made between facts and truth is very important. I like to think of truths as being aspects of the heart. For example, lying about something is an aspect of the heart; it's a kind of illness of the heart. Some people lie a lot, and you might state that in a way that's factual. But if someone recognizes, "Oh, I really spent my life lying; I lived a lie. Boy, I wish I knew that truth before"—it's not just a fact then, it changes them in some deep way.

In India, the Mahatma [Gandhi developed the concept of Satyagraha]^[3]. Some people have translated it as the "power of truth," and some people say it's like "adhering to the truth."

So anyway, that's beautiful. Thank you. Anybody else?

Well, thank you for being here, and I hope to see you again sometime.