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COVID-19 Era as the Era of Care

Greetings from Redwood City. I appreciate very much the chance to share with all of you the Dharma, or at least my best understanding of the Dharma, the practice, and how it expresses itself in the world. In particular, how it expresses itself in the world through caring for the welfare and happiness of others. This Dharma practice, Buddhism, is integrally connected—part and parcel of our capacity and our motivation to care for all beings, including ourselves.

For some time now, I have been saying in my conversations with people that we are living in the COVID-19 era. Maybe other people are saying this as well; it just came out, or maybe I learned it from someone else. I hope that in the future, when people think back to this time, it will not be known as the COVID-19 era. I hope it is not named after a disease, but rather it will be known as the "Era of Care"—the era in which people cared for each other. I hope it will be known as a time when there was a clear call in all of humanity to care for everyone on this planet, and in particular for the poor, the sick, the oppressed, and the people who were already most challenged before COVID-19 spread around the globe, but are now even more challenged, pushed to the breaking point around the world.

We know that many more people have been mobilized and engaged in caring for others who have COVID-19 than there are people who have the disease or people who have died from it. I suspect that for every person who has died of the disease, there has been a team of caregivers around them. Maybe not everyone—some people have died alone—but in the news every day, we see stories in hospitals of medical teams actively involved, working day and night to care for people, to save people's lives. We have family, friends, and neighbors who are caring for people who are sick. The circle of care that goes outwards is in fact greater than the number of people who have the illness. This is not to diminish our care for the people who are sick, but rather to remember the goodness, to remember how much compassion, kindness, and support people are offering. There are motivated people, and this is the bright light of the world, I think—these people who are supporting and helping so much.

I suspect, and I hope, that a majority of the people on this earth have done some act of expressing care for others, showing compassion and support for people who are impacted or could be impacted by the pandemic. What I mean by this is that even people who are not sick are sheltering in place, washing their hands, and doing the kinds of things that will reduce the spread of the disease, caring for those who might get it if we spread it.

I think it is highly symbolic that with this virus, the same behavior that involves caring for oneself—protecting oneself from the disease—is the behavior that protects others from the disease. If we shelter ourselves in place and stay home, we certainly protect ourselves so we don't get sick, but simultaneously that act is protecting others from how we might be the vector spreading the disease. We know that many people have the disease without even knowing it, or they have it for several weeks or days without knowing it, and are therefore vectors. It gets carried out into the world, and once one person places it on a doorknob or in some place, it can spread from there and multiply. So the fact that we shelter in place protects ourselves and it protects others. I find this deeply symbolic: that caring for ourselves is a way of caring for others, and caring for others is a way of caring for ourselves.

Maybe this applies to many more things in life than just the virus. I think there is something very significant in realizing that we're all in it together in this world. If we care for each other in all kinds of different ways, the sum total of benefits for everyone is much greater than if we have many individuals only taking care of themselves, only thinking about themselves. In fact, those people who are mostly concerned with themselves—if they only knew that if they could open up their hearts, their activities, and their concern to a much wider field, it would come back to them in phenomenal, wonderful ways.

Another symbolic thing about this time of the coronavirus is the phenomenal way we're experiencing how interrelated we are. We're interrelated in ways that we can spread the virus, but we're also interrelated in the way that we can care for each other and benefit each other all over the globe through what we do. It was a time, not so long ago, when people didn't know people beyond their valley, beyond their little community or neighborhood. I grew up in Norway, and there they had many different dialects of Norwegian. I was surprised when I met someone who spoke Norwegian and I couldn't understand them because they came from far up in the north. It used to be that people didn't travel. There were no roads in the country, and there are all these different fjords that were semi-isolated, so people developed different kinds of Norwegian because they only knew the people there.

But now we know people all over the world. The more we know about the world now, the more we understand that we are medically connected through things like the virus. We've known for some time that viruses and flus spread around the world. We are economically connected, politically connected, and connected in so many different ways that were unimaginable a long time ago. So again, this is a call to care, recognizing that all the networks of interrelatedness are also potential networks for how the spread of our care can go in all directions.

To really come out in the best possible way from this COVID-19 illness, the more we can care for each other, be careful, and be supportive in the right ways, the more we can manage to get along. At the same time, we must consider how we care for people working in the economy. We must care for the people who are not becoming sick, but who are going to be in tremendous economic distress because of what's happening. There are predictions that more people might die from the recession and economic collapse than from the illness itself. I don't know if that's true, or how that's going to play out, but there are certainly all kinds of problems in the wake of this illness. Some of the weakest links in our human chain of connectivity are going to suffer the most.

Consider the millions of people in refugee camps. They are barely eking out an existence in places like Darfur, Bangladesh, and among refugees from Syria. It just goes on and on around the world. They are barely surviving in dense camps, and even if the virus doesn't actively come into them, food chains are disrupted, and the non-profits who support them are challenged financially in getting the work done. So who cares for them? How do we care for the rest of the world?

I hope that we in the United States will have as much dedication to caring for each other at this time—to find our way through in a healthy, beneficial way for all beings—as this country dedicated itself to World War II. It's touching to me that the generation of World War II was called the "Greatest Generation." What are they going to call this generation? What about the people here now who step forward and really try to come out of this in a way that goes down in history books as a generation that cared? Could it be the "Caring Generation"? Could it be the "Greatest Caring Generation"? What will be known about this time?

What a lesson, what an inspiration, what a kind of ambrosia for the heart, the soul, and the psyche it is to experience and know care in all kinds of ways. It is nourishment for us. I think it is because it's deeply embedded in our human system and human nature to care and to be cared for. It touches something profound within us.

To call forth an example of how central caring for each other is for our well-being, consider the amount of care that goes into child-raising. A baby is born and can't care for itself at all. The amazing amount of care it takes to bring a baby into toddlerhood, childhood, adolescence, and adulthood is phenomenal. The baby needs to feel that care and safety; they need to take it in. This is the world they live in. Otherwise, they don't grow up into the fullest human beings they can be—where they feel they can trust this world and our presence in a safe way, and can offer the world something in return.

We also care for our elders and our parents when they get older and need help. It's kind of natural to do this, to offer care, and it feeds something inside of us. To expand those circles of care—not only for our friends, families, or particular community, but to have that sense of care go outwards into all directions for the whole world—is part and parcel of Buddhist practice. It is the freeing up of the heart. It is freeing our capacity to care, to have compassion, and to have love. It is freeing ourselves from whatever barriers prevent us from being present in a full, embodied, and complete way to meet this world as it is.

Using this word care repeatedly here is my translation of a Buddhist term that the Buddha used, called anukampā^[1]. It goes back to the time of the Buddha, where there's a very clear usage of this word that lends itself not only to compassion, but to something broader. It implies a capacity for care, and caring for others in more ways than just caring for their suffering. Anukampā also means caring for people's welfare and happiness. Even for people who are well-off, comfortable, safe, have enough food, and aren't suffering in a deep or obvious way, we can care for them with our generosity. We can care for their well-being and happiness. As much as compassion is one of the most profound things a person can feel, it's not really suited for all situations. If we only have compassion for our friends, they might start feeling uncomfortable around us! But if we care for them, there is infinite room to care for their well-being and happiness.

It is a broader sensibility, but it also seems like a natural sensitivity that we all have. At least, that's the impression I get from reading the teachings of the Buddha. The Buddha never talks about cultivating or developing this capacity for care; he just assumes it's there. He assumes that the more we let go of hatred, ill-will, and the things that block its existence, the more it emerges. Perhaps when people become spiritually mature, liberated, and awake, one of the things they awaken to is their capacity to care.

I like the word care a lot because it is a humble word. It is a word that hasn't been used very much in the translations of Buddhist texts into English. There have been grand terms like compassion and loving-kindness used, but I think care is part and parcel of what the Buddha was teaching. It is a humble word because it's a natural part of human life. We probably use it all the time in our language, but it doesn't get elevated as high as compassion does in the world of religion or Buddhism. I'd like to elevate it a little bit. I'd like to point out that it's here as a natural part of us.

I am touched when I start thinking about where the word care is used in our society. It's used in healthcare—the intensive care unit, palliative care, and it goes on and on. Spiritual care is a department of chaplaincy. It is used for childcare; people who work in nursery schools and kindergartens, or babysitters, are called childcare providers. Many people are caregivers. Many people who are caregivers don't get paid for it. There are caregivers who are paid, and then there are family members who act as caregivers when someone is sick or dying. We talk about the family caregivers, their needs, and how to support them as well. The word care is used over and over again in English.

It is a wonderful word because it has two meanings. To care for something can mean to value it, to be interested in it, to attend to it in some way. This is not necessarily because it is suffering, but because it is something we want to care for and help function well. For example, we care for our car. I don't think our car usually suffers, but we care for it by getting the oil changed to help it function well. Then there is giving care—being a caregiver. This has to do with actually supporting people, helping them have a better life, and bringing benefit to them. So there are two aspects: valuing people, combined with the idea of supporting them and doing things that are compassionate.

These two meanings of care come together fascinatingly, because we take care of what we care about. When we care about other people, we take care of other people. How do we enter into this kind of mutuality? If we value other people, we take care of them. And how can we not value other people if we're deeply rooted and centered in ourselves? As practice deepens, and we open up and become freer of the forces of contraction, attachment, and clinging, it's natural to see others, to feel others, and to be sensitive to others in a deep way. From that deep place inside, care is a natural function of who we are. There is no need to evoke care, create care, or remind ourselves to care. If we are centered in ourselves, that inner sensitivity and empathy will be there.

The word anukampā, which I'm translating as care, literally means to shake or tremble toward. Kampā means to shake or tremble, and anu means toward, in relationship to something. It means for the heart to tremble, to shake, to resonate towards what's happening in the world and to other people. It is for our inner life to have the sensitivity, to be mindful and awake enough to feel the natural sensitivity that we don't feel if we wear armor. We don't feel it if we're closed off, or caught up in anger, greed, ambition, or conceit.

This beautiful and profound spiritual task involves settling and letting go of conceit, greed, and ambition. It means letting go in very touching and profound ways of the things we are afraid or scared to let go of—all the difficult ways we hold hatred or ill-will. In that letting go, we feel the sensitivity of our inner life. We pick up and feel empathy for other people, drop the barriers, and drop the armor.

This mutuality—how we care for others and care for ourselves—has a reverse principle. If we are self-absorbed and only practice self-care for "me, myself, and mine," we paradoxically harm ourselves. It might feel like we're freer if we have unfettered expression of our hatred, thinking, "I'm free and I'm expressing it," or if we have the unrestrained ability to follow our desires and do whatever we want. But it becomes an alienation—a disconnection from something that is deeper than desires, deeper than greed, hatred, delusion, or conceit. In fact, we harm ourselves when we act from greed, hate, and delusion.

So there is this paradox: the more we act only for ourselves, the more we harm ourselves. The more we free ourselves from greed, hate, and delusion—not out of obligation, but naturally—the more we become someone who benefits ourselves. We free ourselves and touch into what is most beautiful within ourselves. It turns out that if we do that work, one of the beautiful things we find inside is our natural capacity for anukampā, an actual capacity for care.

In this COVID-19 era—what I hope will become the Era of Care—what do you care about? At what point does the welfare and well-being of others become not only something you care about conceptually, but something your care is motivated by through your actions and how you are in the world? How can you not wait for someone else to do the caring, but find a way for your care to be expressed?

I think our hearts need to know that we're doing something, anything, that makes a difference. Some people are living in good circumstances. Imagine people who are living comfortably, sheltered at home, who are actually spending less money than they normally would. Please use some of that money. Don't just sit and let your savings get bigger; make donations to the places where people really need it. There are people who are hungry in the United States and around the world. Let's make sure that people have enough food. Invest that money in someplace that makes a difference for our society and brings benefit. Don't just sit on the money.

For those of you who don't have money to share and are struggling financially, allow yourself to be helped. Go out and try to find help. Let people know that you're in need, because unless we know, people won't be able to help. And if you are being helped by others, there are still others you can help as well. See what you can do, even if it's just a smile, a phone call, or a friendly conversation with someone you meet. There are an infinite number of ways that our capacity for anukampā, our capacity for care, can be expressed.

To begin expressing it more and more is also the path of freeing ourselves from all the forces of attachment and clinging. Care enough to act on your care, and you will begin stretching into the limits, into the edges, into the places of attachment and clinging. Then you bring your practice there and begin to dissolve it, stretch it thin, and eventually let it go. We practice letting go of attachments and clinging so that we can care better, and we care so that we can meet those attachments and clinging and let them go. This is the mutuality of practice and care in Buddhism.

May we contribute to a wonderful potential that is inherent in this globe right now: the possibility that this becomes the Era of Care, and that we are part of the Caring Generation that is remembered and celebrated for generations to come. It is that important what is happening now.

Thank you for the opportunity to talk with you and to share what is on my heart. I hope it has some benefit for you and inspires you in this difficult time for our society and our world.