Chapter 6Daily Practice and Dedication

The thirty-seven practices are nearly complete. The foundation has been laid (chapters 1-2), bodhicitta has been generated (chapter 3), adversity and emptiness have been addressed (chapter 4), and the six perfections have been outlined (chapter 5). Now Tokme Zangpo turns to the question that makes the difference between a philosophical understanding and a lived path: how do you actually practice this, day by day, moment by moment, in the midst of an ordinary life?

These final seven verses (31-37) are intensely practical. They address the pitfalls that even sincere practitioners fall into, the disciplines that keep the path honest, and the final act that seals all practice with the power of wisdom and dedication.

Verse 31: Examining Your Own Errors

If you don't examine your own errors, You may look like a practitioner but not act as one. Therefore, always examining your own errors, Rid yourself of them -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

This verse strikes at the heart of spiritual self-deception. It is entirely possible to look like a practitioner -- to wear the robes, recite the prayers, attend the teachings, use the vocabulary -- while your actual conduct runs counter to everything the teachings prescribe. The external form of practice and its inner reality can diverge completely.

The only remedy is relentless self-examination. Not once a year during retreat. Not occasionally when things go wrong. Always. The Dharma mirror must face inward, not outward. As the Kadampa masters taught, the purpose of the teachings is to reveal your own faults to yourself -- not to give you a lens for judging others.

This is uncomfortable work. We all have blind spots. We all prefer to think of ourselves as more compassionate, more ethical, more aware than we actually are. The practice of self-examination requires the courage to look honestly at the gap between who you aspire to be and who you actually are -- and then to do something about it.

The instruction to "rid yourself of them" is important. Self-examination without action becomes a form of intellectual self-indulgence -- endlessly analyzing your faults without actually changing anything. The purpose of seeing your errors is to correct them.

Verse 32: Not Criticizing Other Bodhisattvas

If through the influence of disturbing emotions You point out the faults of another Bodhisattva, You yourself are diminished, so don't mention the faults Of those who have entered the Great Vehicle -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

Having directed the mirror inward, Tokme Zangpo now warns against directing it outward. When you find yourself eager to point out the failings of another practitioner -- especially another Mahayana practitioner -- examine your motivation. Is the impulse arising from genuine concern for their well-being, or from jealousy, pride, or competitiveness?

If disturbing emotions are driving the criticism, the person diminished is not the one you criticize but yourself. Speaking ill of others under the influence of affliction is like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die. Your own bodhisattva development is what suffers.

This does not mean that bodhisattvas should never receive honest feedback. Constructive criticism offered with respect, with the genuine intention to help, and in a private setting is not what this verse prohibits. What it prohibits is the casual, emotion-driven gossip and fault-finding that pervades spiritual communities just as it pervades any human group.

There is also a deeper reason for this instruction. You cannot know the full extent of another person's practice, motivation, or realization. Someone whose external behavior seems imperfect may have inner qualities you cannot perceive. The tradition contains countless stories of masters who appeared to be ordinary or even disreputable while possessing extraordinary realization. To judge another bodhisattva's spiritual state based on surface appearances is both arrogant and dangerous.

Verse 33: Letting Go of Attachment to Patronage

Reward and respect cause us to quarrel And make hearing, thinking and meditating decline. For this reason give up attachment to The households of friends, relations and benefactors -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

This verse addresses a specific danger for practitioners who depend on the support of others -- monks and nuns who rely on patrons, teachers who depend on donations, and by extension anyone whose practice is entangled with social obligations and expectations.

When you become attached to gaining approval, support, or respect from those around you, the result is predictable: you begin to compete with other practitioners for the same patronage, you adjust your teachings to please your audience, and your study and meditation suffer because you are spending all your energy cultivating relationships.

The famous story of Geshe Ben Gungyal illustrates this perfectly. Hearing that his patron was coming to visit, Geshe Ben cleaned his shrine room and arranged beautiful offerings. Then he paused, examined his motivation, and realized he was doing it entirely to impress his benefactor. He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it on the altar, declaring: "This dirt thrown on the display of the eight worldly concerns is the finest offering in all of Tibet."

The instruction is to give up attachment to households -- not necessarily to give up the relationships themselves, but to stop depending on them for your sense of self-worth and to stop letting them distort your practice.

Verse 34: Abandoning Harsh Speech

Harsh words disturb the minds of others And cause deterioration in a Bodhisattva's conduct. Therefore give up harsh words Which are unpleasant to others -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

Of all the ways we harm others in daily life, speech is the most common. We may never steal, never physically harm anyone, but harsh words? Most of us traffic in them daily -- the cutting remark, the sarcastic jab, the raised voice, the cold tone of contempt.

Tokme Zangpo identifies two effects of harsh speech. First, it disturbs the minds of others -- it creates pain in the person who hears it. Second, it causes deterioration in the bodhisattva's own conduct -- it coarsens your mind, weakens your compassion, and moves you further from the person you aspire to be.

The instruction is simply to give up harsh words -- those which are "unpleasant to others." This does not mean that a bodhisattva can never speak firmly or deliver difficult truths. There is a difference between honest speech delivered with compassion and harsh speech delivered with the intent to wound. The same message can be communicated gently or brutally, and the bodhisattva chooses gentleness.

In practice, this means pausing before speaking when you feel anger, frustration, or contempt. It means choosing words carefully, being aware of your tone, and considering how your speech will land in the mind of the listener. It means that even when you need to set a boundary or correct a mistake, you do so with respect for the dignity of the other person.

Verse 35: Destroying Afflictions as They Arise

Habitual disturbing emotions are hard to stop through counteractions. Armed with antidotes, the guards of mindfulness and mental alertness Destroy disturbing emotions like attachment At once, as soon as they arise -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

This verse describes the moment-to-moment warfare of the inner life. Disturbing emotions -- attachment, anger, pride, jealousy, ignorance -- are habitual. They have been reinforced through countless lifetimes. Once they are allowed to develop and take hold, they become extraordinarily difficult to dislodge.

The solution is speed. Catch them the instant they arise, before they gain momentum, before they harden into action. This requires two mental faculties working together like guards at a gate.

Mindfulness (dran pa) is the capacity to hold your ethical intention in awareness -- to remember what you have committed to, what kind of person you are trying to be. It functions like mental glue, keeping your aspirations present even in the heat of the moment.

Mental alertness (shes bzhin) is the capacity to monitor what is actually happening in your mind right now. It is the sentinel that notices: "Anger is arising. Attachment is forming. Pride is inflating." Without this watchful awareness, you can be swept away by an affliction before you even realize it has appeared.

Together, mindfulness and alertness form the front line of defense. When an affliction is detected early -- in its first flicker, before it has become a full-blown emotion with momentum and narrative attached -- it can be addressed with the appropriate antidote. Anger can be met with patience or love. Attachment can be met with contemplation of impermanence. Pride can be met with reflection on dependent origination.

The metaphor of guards armed with antidotes is vivid and practical. You are not asked to empty the mind of all content. You are asked to stand guard and act swiftly when destructive patterns appear.

Verse 36: Constant Mindfulness

In brief, whatever you are doing, Ask yourself, "What's the state of my mind?" With constant mindfulness and mental alertness Accomplish others' good -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

This is the summary verse -- the distillation of all thirty-seven practices into a single instruction. Whatever you are doing -- eating, walking, talking, working, resting, meditating -- the one essential practice is to know the state of your own mind.

"What is the state of my mind?" This question, asked sincerely and repeatedly throughout the day, is the entire path in miniature. Am I acting from love or from self-interest? Am I present or distracted? Am I moving toward awakening or away from it? The answer in any given moment tells you everything you need to know about what to do next.

The purpose of this constant self-awareness is not self-absorption. It is precisely the opposite: to accomplish others' good. You cannot serve others skillfully if you do not know what is happening inside you. An angry person who tries to help usually makes things worse. A distracted person who tries to serve usually misses what is actually needed. Only a mind that knows itself clearly can respond to others with genuine wisdom and compassion.

This verse brings us full circle. The path of the bodhisattva is not a sequence of dramatic gestures or extraordinary feats. It is the continuous, unglamorous practice of paying attention -- to your mind, to the people around you, to the gap between your aspiration and your reality -- and gently, persistently, bringing the two closer together.

Verse 37: Dedication with the Wisdom of Emptiness

To remove the suffering of limitless beings, Understand the purity of the three spheres, Dedicate the virtue from making such effort To enlightenment -- This is the practice of bodhisattvas.

The final practice seals everything that has come before.

Dedication of merit is the act of offering whatever positive energy has been generated through your practice to the awakening of all beings. It is the third of the three supreme methods that Mahayana Buddhism prescribes for every action: begin with bodhicitta, maintain awareness of emptiness during the practice, and dedicate the merit at the end.

But Tokme Zangpo adds a crucial qualifier: the dedication must be made with understanding of "the purity of the three spheres" -- that is, with the wisdom that recognizes the dedicator, the beings dedicated to, and the act of dedication itself as empty of inherent existence. This is what makes the dedication truly transcendent rather than merely virtuous.

Without this wisdom, dedication can become another form of self-grasping: "I am dedicating my merit to them." With this wisdom, the dedication dissolves the boundaries between self and other, between giver and receiver, and the merit becomes limitless precisely because it is not held by anyone.

The tradition uses a beautiful analogy: dedicating merit without the understanding of emptiness is like adding a drop of water to a hot stone -- it evaporates quickly. Dedicating with the understanding of emptiness is like adding a drop of water to the ocean -- it will not be exhausted until the ocean itself runs dry.

The Colophon

After the thirty-seventh verse, Tokme Zangpo adds a personal conclusion that is remarkable for its humility. He explains that he has written these practices "following what has been said by excellent ones on the meaning of the sutras, tantras, and treatises." He does not claim originality. Every teaching here is rooted in the words of the Buddha and the great masters who followed.

He apologizes for the inadequacy of his expression -- "owing to my poor intelligence and lack of learning" -- and notes that the great deeds of bodhisattvas "are hard to fathom for one of my poor intelligence." He asks forgiveness for any contradictions or errors.

This humility is not false modesty. It reflects the genuine stance of a practitioner who, despite being recognized as one of the great scholars and saints of fourteenth-century Tibet, does not place himself above the tradition he serves. The text closes with a dedication prayer: may all beings gain the ultimate and conventional bodhicittas and become like Chenrezig, dwelling in neither extreme of samsara nor the peace of personal nirvana.

The colophon tells us this was written "by the monk Togme, an exponent of scripture and reasoning, in a cave in Ngulchu Rinchen." Gyalse Tokme Zangpo composed this text in retreat, at Ngulchu Chodzong, where he spent over twenty years in solitary practice after stepping down as abbot of Bodong E Monastery. The thirty-seven practices are not theoretical. They are the lived instructions of a man who gave his entire life to embodying them.