Chapter 4Adversity, Fortune, and Emptiness

The previous chapter showed how to respond to direct harm from other people. Now Tokme Zangpo widens the lens. The bodhisattva must learn to work not only with interpersonal conflict but with the entire range of human experience -- poverty and wealth, failure and success, hatred and desire. And beyond all of these, the practitioner must eventually penetrate to the deepest level: the realization that all of these experiences, pleasant and unpleasant alike, lack any inherent, solid existence.

These seven verses (18 through 24) are organized in a precise structure. Verses 18-19 address how to transform ruin and wealth into the path. Verses 20-21 address how to transform the hated and the desired. And verses 22-24 introduce ultimate bodhicitta -- the direct realization of emptiness during meditation and the illusory quality of all appearances in post-meditation experience.

Verse 18: Transforming Ruin into the Path

Though you lack what you need and are constantly disparaged, Afflicted by dangerous sickness and spirits, Without discouragement take on the misdeeds And pain of all living beings -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

When everything goes wrong at once -- you are destitute, despised, sick, and beset by unseen obstacles -- the ordinary response is despair. The world feels hostile, life feels pointless, and self-pity can become an all-consuming darkness.

Tokme Zangpo offers a radically different response: without discouragement, take on the suffering of all beings through tonglen. This is not denial of your own pain. It is an expansion of awareness. You are suffering -- yes. But so are countless others, and many are suffering far more. Rather than contracting around your own misery, you open to the shared reality of suffering that connects you to every being in samsara.

The key phrase is "without discouragement." The bodhisattva does not pretend that hardship is pleasant. They simply refuse to let it become an excuse to abandon the path. In fact, they use it as rocket fuel. Personal suffering, when met with the aspiration of bodhicitta, becomes a direct connection to the suffering of all beings. Your poverty connects you to every hungry being. Your illness connects you to every sick being. Your despair connects you to every being trapped in hopelessness.

This is not spiritual bypassing. It is the opposite -- it is feeling your pain so fully that it breaks you open to the pain of others.

Verse 19: Transforming Wealth into the Path

Though you become famous and many bow to you, And you gain riches equal to Vaishravana's, See that worldly fortune is without essence, And be unconceited -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

If adversity is a test, prosperity is a trap. In many ways, this verse describes the more dangerous condition.

Vaishravana (Kubera) is the god of wealth, the richest being in the desire realm. Even if you attain riches equal to his, accompanied by fame and the reverence of others, the instruction is clear: see that it has no essence. Worldly fortune is without substance -- it can vanish overnight, it provides no lasting satisfaction, and it cannot follow you beyond death.

The particular danger of wealth and fame is conceit -- the subtle inflation of the ego that comes from being praised, admired, and deferred to. You begin to believe your own narrative: "I am special. I am successful. I deserve this." The self solidifies, the heart contracts, and the bodhisattva aspiration gradually evaporates in the warm bath of self-satisfaction.

The instruction is not to renounce wealth and fame if they arise, but to see through them. Use resources for the benefit of others. Accept praise without believing it defines you. Enjoy good fortune without clinging to it. As the verse says, be unconceited -- which is itself a deep practice, because conceit is one of the most difficult afflictions to detect in oneself.

Verse 20: Subduing Anger

While the enemy of your own anger is unsubdued, Though you may conquer external foes, they will only increase. Therefore with the militia of love and compassion Subdue your own mind -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

Tokme Zangpo now turns to the two most powerful afflictions: anger and desire. He addresses anger first, because it is the most destructive.

The image is martial. You may defeat external enemies one by one, but for every foe you vanquish, new ones arise. This is the endless logic of conflict: retaliation breeds retaliation, aggression generates counter-aggression, and the cycle never ends. History demonstrates this at every scale, from personal feuds to international wars.

The real enemy is not out there. It is the anger within your own mind. And this enemy cannot be fought with the weapons of anger -- that would be like trying to extinguish fire with fire. The only effective "militia" is love and compassion. When you meet aggression with genuine love, you break the cycle. When you feel the heat of anger rising and respond with compassion -- first for yourself, then for the one who provoked you -- the anger has nothing to feed on.

"Subdue your own mind" is one of the most fundamental instructions in all of Buddhism. The Buddha himself said: "Not to commit any harmful action, to accumulate a wealth of virtuous deeds, to subdue one's own mind -- this is the teaching of the Buddha." The third line is the essence.

Verse 21: Abandoning Attachment

Sensual pleasures are like salt water: The more you indulge, the more thirst increases. Abandon at once those things which breed Clinging attachment -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

The image of salt water is devastating in its precision. Anyone who has ever tried to satisfy a craving by indulging it knows this experience. You eat one piece of chocolate and want another. You check your phone once and find yourself checking it again five minutes later. You acquire one possession and immediately begin longing for the next.

Desire is not satisfied by its objects. It is inflamed by them. This is the fundamental mechanism of samsara: the belief that happiness lies in getting more of what we want, when in fact the wanting itself is the source of suffering.

The instruction is characteristically direct: abandon at once those things which breed clinging attachment. Not gradually. Not after careful deliberation. At once. This urgency reflects the understanding that attachment, like addiction, grows stronger the longer it is fed. The earlier you cut the connection, the easier it is.

This does not mean rejecting all pleasure or living in ascetic deprivation. It means developing the discernment to recognize when a pleasure is breeding clinging -- when the enjoyment has crossed the line into dependency -- and having the courage to let it go.

Verse 22: The Nature of Mind

Whatever appears is your own mind. Your mind from the start was free from fabricated extremes. Understanding this, do not take to mind Inherent signs of subject and object -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

With this verse, the text takes a profound turn. We move from conventional bodhicitta -- the practices of compassion and transformation described in verses 10-21 -- to ultimate bodhicitta, the direct realization of emptiness.

Tokme Zangpo condenses the entire Madhyamaka and Yogachara philosophy into four lines. Whatever appears to you -- every sight, sound, thought, emotion, every experience without exception -- is your own mind. Not in the sense that external reality does not exist, but in the sense that your experience of reality is always mediated by and inseparable from mind.

And that mind, from the very beginning, has been free from "fabricated extremes." It is not inherently existent. It is not non-existent. It does not both exist and not exist. It does not neither exist nor not exist. The four extremes that the intellect tries to impose on reality -- existence, non-existence, both, neither -- are all fabrications. The actual nature of mind transcends them all.

Understanding this, the practitioner stops reifying the division between subject and object -- between the "I" who perceives and the "thing" that is perceived. These are not two separate, inherently existing entities confronting each other. They are interdependent appearances arising within the expanse of mind's own nature.

This verse describes the meditation of equipoise on emptiness -- the practice of resting in direct recognition of the nature of mind, free from conceptual elaboration.

Verse 23: Attractive Objects Are Like Rainbows

When you encounter attractive objects, Though they seem beautiful Like a rainbow in the summer, don't regard them as real And give up attachment -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

After the meditation on emptiness, the practitioner must apply that understanding in daily life. Verse 23 addresses what happens when you encounter something desirable.

The rainbow image is perfectly chosen. A rainbow is undeniably beautiful. It appears vividly in the sky, with colors so rich they can take your breath away. And yet it has no substance whatsoever. You cannot grasp it, hold it, possess it, or make it stay. If you walk toward it, it recedes. If you reach for it, your hand closes on empty air.

This is the nature of all attractive objects when seen through the eyes of emptiness. They appear, they have qualities, they can even be appreciated and enjoyed -- but they are not solid, not permanent, not capable of providing the lasting satisfaction we project onto them. The beauty is real as appearance; the inherent, graspable reality we attribute to it is not.

The instruction is not to stop seeing beauty. It is to stop grasping at it -- to enjoy the rainbow without trying to put it in your pocket.

Verse 24: Suffering Is Like a Dream

All forms of suffering are like a child's death in a dream. Holding illusory appearances to be true makes you weary. Therefore when you meet with disagreeable circumstances, See them as illusory -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

If verse 23 addresses the illusion of pleasure, verse 24 addresses the illusion of pain.

The image is startling: a child's death in a dream. There is perhaps no more devastating experience a human being can face than the loss of a child. The grief is absolute, shattering, total. And yet in a dream, even this most terrible of events is without substance. When you wake, the child is not dead. The grief, though it felt completely real while the dream lasted, dissolves like mist in the morning sun.

Tokme Zangpo is not saying that suffering does not hurt. He is saying that when you realize the empty nature of phenomena, you recognize that suffering -- like all experience -- does not possess the solid, inherent reality you instinctively attribute to it. It appears, it is felt, but it is not what it seems to be.

"Holding illusory appearances to be true makes you weary." This is a remarkable observation. The exhaustion we feel in the face of life's difficulties comes not from the difficulties themselves, but from our belief in their ultimate reality. We grip them tightly, we fight them, we rail against them, and in doing so we exhaust ourselves. When we see them as illusory -- vivid but insubstantial, like a dream -- the grip relaxes and we find an unexpected reserve of strength.

This does not mean passive acceptance. You can still act to change difficult circumstances. But you act from clarity rather than panic, from wisdom rather than reactivity. And you do not add the suffering of existential despair on top of the practical problem.