Chapter 4Actions: The Principle of Cause and Effect

There is a teaching that lies at the very heart of the Buddhist path, one so simple it can be stated in a single breath, yet so profound that even realized masters never outgrow its importance. It is this: every experience of happiness arises from positive actions, and every experience of suffering arises from negative ones. This is the principle of cause and effect -- what is known in Sanskrit as karma, a word that simply means "action."

We might think that karma is some abstract philosophical idea, or that it only matters for people who believe in future lives. But the truth is far more immediate and intimate than that. Karma is nothing less than the story of how we create our own experience, moment by moment, through what we do with our body, our speech, and our mind. It is the great weaving of our existence. The joys and sorrows of all beings, from the highest heavens to the deepest hells, arise only from the positive and negative actions that each individual has accumulated. There is nothing else that sends us higher or lower. It is not fate. It is not random chance. It is the natural unfolding of what we ourselves have set in motion.

And so Patrul Rinpoche urges us: at all times, examine the effects of your actions, avoid everything that is harmful, and take up everything that is good.

The Ten Negative Actions

The negative actions that we should learn to recognize and abandon are traditionally grouped into ten. Three belong to the body: taking life, taking what is not given, and sexual misconduct. Four belong to speech: lying, sowing discord, harsh words, and worthless chatter. And three belong to the mind: covetousness, wishing harm on others, and wrong views.

Taking Life

Of all negative actions, taking life is one of the gravest. It means doing anything intentionally to end the life of another being, whether human, animal, or any other living creature. Killing out of anger, as when a warrior destroys an enemy in battle. Killing out of desire, as when a hunter takes a wild animal for its flesh or skin. Killing out of ignorance, as when someone slaughters without any understanding of the consequences.

Some of us might think, "Well, I have never actually killed anything." But Patrul Rinpoche invites us to look more carefully. Who among us, high or low, powerful or feeble, has not crushed countless tiny insects underfoot while walking? Even children, playing innocently in summer, kill many small creatures without realizing it, simply by beating the ground with a stick as they walk along.

And then there is the matter of how we eat. Patrul Rinpoche paints a vivid picture of the carnage involved in daily life, especially the keeping of livestock. Sheep, he says, are a particularly prolific source of harm. As they graze they swallow all sorts of small creatures. At shearing time, millions of insects living in each sheep's fleece perish. At lambing time, half the newborn lambs are killed. The ewes are milked and bred until they are exhausted, and then they too are slaughtered. Anyone who owns a large flock, he warns, can be sure of accumulating the karma for rebirth in the lower realms.

He describes with unflinching realism the slaughter of a single sheep: how the butcher seizes the animal with a noose, throws it on its back, lashes its legs together, and binds a rope around its muzzle until it suffocates. In its violent agony the animal's staring eyes turn bluish and stream with tears. Its body is dragged off, and because the subtle energies have not yet left, the flesh still quivers as the knife does its work. It is, he says, as though the animal is practically being eaten alive. We humans, who slaughter the very cattle that have served us their whole lives, feeding us with their milk as mothers would -- we are worse than any ogre.

For a negative action to be complete, four elements must be present. Consider the hunter: he sees the animal and knows it is a living creature (the basis); the wish to kill it arises (the intention); he shoots it with his weapon (the execution); and the animal dies (the completion). Even if only two or three of these elements are present -- say you intended to kill but did not carry it through -- a karmic stain remains, though the harm is less than if the act were completed.

And we should know that the same karmic weight falls on everyone involved. The person who gives the order, the person who carries it out, even someone who merely feels pleased about it -- each one receives the full karmic result. It is not as though a single act of killing can be divided up and shared among many people, each carrying only a fraction.

Taking What Is Not Given

Taking what is not given comes in three forms: taking by force, as when a powerful person seizes property without any right to it; taking by stealth, as when a thief operates under cover of darkness; and taking by trickery, as when a merchant uses lies, false weights, or deception in a business deal.

Patrul Rinpoche is remarkably candid about the world of commerce. He observes that people rarely think there is anything wrong with cheating in business, as long as they are not overtly stealing. But any profit gained through deception, he insists, is no different from outright theft.

He tells the wonderful story of Jetsun Milarepa arriving one night at a monastery and lying down to sleep in front of a monk's door. Inside, the monk was lying awake all night long, calculating the prices he could get for different parts of a cow he planned to have slaughtered the next day -- so much for the head, so much for the shoulder blade, so much for the knuckles and shins. By dawn he had worked out the value of every part except the tail. He got up, completed his morning devotions, and stepped outside to find Milarepa still sleeping.

"You call yourself a Dharma practitioner," the monk railed at him, "and here you are still sleeping at this hour! Don't you do any practice at all?"

Milarepa replied calmly, "I don't always sleep like this. It's just that I spent the whole night thinking about how to sell a cow of mine that's going to be slaughtered. I only got to sleep a little while ago." With those words, he exposed the monk's hidden failings and walked away.

The message could not be clearer. Those whose lives are consumed by business spend day and night engrossed in calculations, so swallowed up by delusion that even when death comes, they will die as deluded as ever. Commerce, Patrul Rinpoche warns, involves nearly all of the ten negative actions -- lying, sowing discord, harsh words, worthless chatter, covetousness, wishing harm on competitors. It is one of the most effective means of accumulating harmful karma.

Sexual Misconduct and the Remaining Negative Actions

Patrul Rinpoche addresses sexual misconduct primarily to laypeople, noting that monks and nuns are expected to avoid the sexual act entirely. For householders, the gravest form of sexual misconduct is leading others to break their vows.

He then moves through the remaining negative actions of speech. Lying includes not only ordinary falsehoods but also so-called "major lies" -- denying the reality of karma, or denying the qualities of the Buddhas -- and the deceptions of false teachers who claim powers of clairvoyance or spiritual attainment they do not possess. He cautions us to be careful not to believe such charlatans blindly, and to place our trust instead in practitioners who are humble and whose inner nature matches their outward behavior.

Sowing discord, whether done openly or in secret, means creating rifts between people. The worst instance is causing conflict within the spiritual community, especially between a teacher of the Vajrayana and his or her disciples.

Harsh speech includes any words that make others unhappy, even those spoken sweetly. And worthless chatter -- aimless, purposeless talk -- is especially harmful when it interrupts prayers or mantra recitation. A single gossip-monger, Patrul Rinpoche says, can spoil the merit of an entire congregation.

As for the three negative mental actions: covetousness is desiring what belongs to others; wishing harm means harboring malice, hoping for others' misfortune; and wrong views include the belief that actions carry no consequences, as well as the doctrines of eternalism and nihilism. Of all ten negative actions, taking life and wrong views are the heaviest.

The Four Effects of Negative Actions

Each negative action produces four kinds of karmic result, and understanding these helps us see how deeply our actions shape our experience.

The first is the fully ripened effect. Committing any of the ten negative actions when motivated by hatred leads to rebirth in the hells; when motivated by desire, to rebirth as a hungry ghost; and when motivated by ignorance, to rebirth as an animal.

The second is the effect similar to the cause, which itself has two aspects. The first aspect is a tendency to repeat the same kind of action: if we killed before, we find ourselves drawn to killing again; if we stole, we feel drawn to stealing. This explains why some children, from their earliest years, instinctively harm small creatures while others naturally incline toward kindness. As the teaching says: "To see what you have done before, look at what you are now. To see where you are going to be born next, look at what you do now."

The second aspect is that we experience circumstances that mirror our former deeds. Having killed in past lives, we find this life short and plagued by illness. Having stolen, we find ourselves poor and robbed. Having spoken harshly, everything said to us sounds offensive. Having sown discord, our companions and helpers argue among themselves and refuse to cooperate. Each experience reflects back to us the very actions we once directed at others.

Patrul Rinpoche shares the teaching of Rigdzin Jigme Lingpa on this point: when an enemy repays your good with bad, he is actually a teacher helping you to exhaust the effects of your past negative actions. His unjust accusations are a whip that steers you toward virtue. Rather than reacting with anger, we should recognize these difficult encounters as the ripening of our own karma and respond with patience and even gratitude.

The third effect is the conditioning effect, which shapes the very environment into which we are born. Taking life causes rebirth in grim, dangerous landscapes. Stealing leads to lands of famine. Lying produces an atmosphere of insecurity and fear.

The fourth is the proliferating effect: whatever we have done before, we tend to do again and again, creating an ever-deepening cycle that carries us through lifetime after lifetime.

The All-Determining Quality of Actions

All the pleasures and sufferings that beings experience, from the peak of existence to the lowest hell, arise from nothing other than their own positive and negative actions. When we die, we leave behind every possession, every friend, every family member. The only thing that follows us is the weight of what we have done -- our actions trail behind us like a shadow.

The effects of our actions may not always be immediately visible, but they never simply fade away. As the sutras teach: even after a hundred aeons, beings' actions are never lost; when the conditions come together, their fruit will fully ripen. It is like a bird soaring high into the sky -- its shadow seems to vanish, but wherever the bird finally lands, the shadow appears again, just as dark and distinct as before.

And here Patrul Rinpoche makes a truly sobering point. Even Buddhas and Arhats, who have purified all karmic and emotional obscurations, still experience the residual effects of actions from the deep past. He recounts the story of how the armies of King Virudhaka massacred eighty thousand of the Sakya people. On that very day, the Buddha himself had a headache. When his disciples asked why, the Buddha explained that many lifetimes ago, those Sakyas had been fishermen who killed and ate many fish. Two large fish that had been caught and left tied to a pole, writhing in agony out of water, made a powerful aspiration: "These men are killing us, though we have done them no harm. May the day come when we kill them." Those two fish were reborn as King Virudhaka and his minister, and the other fish became their soldiers. "At that time," the Buddha said, "I was the child of one of those fishermen, and watching those two tied-up fish writhing in agony, I laughed. The effect of that action is that today I have a headache."

He tells, too, the story of Maudgalyayana, the Buddha's disciple renowned for possessing the greatest miraculous powers of all the Shravakas. Yet even Maudgalyayana was killed by a group of tirthikas called the Parivrajikas, who beat him to death. Until that moment, not even the combined force of the three worlds could have harmed a single hair on his head. But crushed by the weight of his past actions, he succumbed like any ordinary person. "I could not even think how to use my magical powers, let alone do it," he said. Sariputra wrapped him in his robes and carried him away, and both great disciples passed into nirvana that day.

There is also the story of the monk Ravati in Kashmir, who was clairvoyant and possessed miraculous powers. One day, while dyeing his robes with saffron in a dense stretch of woodland, a layman searching for a lost calf came upon him and looked into his cauldron. Instead of seeing dye, the layman saw meat. He dragged the monk before the king, who had him thrown into a pit. Days later, the calf was found and the layman asked for Ravati's release, but the king forgot. For six months the innocent monk languished in the pit. When his disciples finally came and secured his release, Ravati explained that in a past life he had been a thief who stole a calf and left it next to a meditating pratyekabuddha, who was then falsely accused and thrown into a pit for six days. "The sufferings I have now experienced were the last of those effects," he said with perfect equanimity.

The Power of Small Actions

If even the great ones cannot escape the effects of their past deeds, how much more vulnerable are we, with our mountain of accumulated actions from beginningless time? Patrul Rinpoche implores us never to underestimate the smallest wrong deed, thinking it cannot do much harm. As Shantideva wrote: if evil acts of but a single instant can lead to an aeon in the deepest hell, the evils accumulated from time without beginning will surely keep us from the higher realms.

And just as we should never dismiss small misdeeds, we should never dismiss small acts of goodness. Patrul Rinpoche tells the story of King Mandhatri who, in a past life, was a poor man walking to a wedding with a fistful of beans. Meeting a Buddha on the road, he was moved by intense devotion and threw his beans toward him. Four beans fell into the Buddha's begging bowl and two touched his heart. The maturation of this single act of faith was that he was reborn as universal emperor over the four continents for eighty thousand years, and then shared sovereignty with Indra over the celestial realms for another eighty thousand years -- all from a handful of beans thrown with a pure heart.

As the sutra says: do not take lightly small good deeds, believing they can hardly help -- for drops of water, one by one, in time can fill a giant pot.

Intention: The Root of Everything

Of all the factors that determine whether an action is positive or negative, heavy or light, the intention behind it is by far the most important. It is like a tree: if the root is medicinal, the branches and leaves will also be medicinal; if the root is poisonous, everything that grows from it will be poisonous too. An action that appears outwardly virtuous but is driven by aggression, attachment, or a desire for fame is in fact negative. And an action that appears harmful on the surface can be deeply positive if performed from a place of pure compassion.

This is beautifully illustrated by the story of Captain Compassionate Heart, a previous life of the Buddha. He was sailing across the ocean with five hundred merchants when an evil pirate called Black Spearman appeared, threatening to kill them all. The captain realized that these merchants were all advanced Bodhisattvas, and that if one man killed them all, the pirate would have to endure suffering in the hells for an incalculable number of aeons. Moved by overwhelming compassion, the captain thought: "If I kill him, he will be spared those hells. I have no choice, even if it means that I must go to hell myself." With that great courage, he killed the pirate -- and in doing so, he gained as much merit as would normally take seventy thousand aeons to achieve. The act looked like murder, but because it was done without a trace of selfish motivation, to save both the merchants in the short term and the pirate from the hells in the long term, it was in reality a profoundly positive deed.

Similarly, a brahmin named Lover of the Stars who had lived for years as a celibate in the forest once encountered a young woman so desperately in love with him that she was about to take her own life. Moved by compassion, he married her -- and that act, which appeared to break his vows, brought him forty thousand aeons of merit.

Yet Patrul Rinpoche is careful to say that these exceptions apply only to Bodhisattvas acting from vast compassion without any trace of personal desire. The same acts performed from selfish motivation -- out of desire, hatred, or ignorance -- are not permitted for anyone. And as for the three negative mental actions -- covetousness, malice, and wrong views -- there is never any circumstance in which they can be turned to good, because there is no way for intention to transform them into something positive.

Watching the Mind: The Practice of Geshe Ben Kungyal

The mind is the sole generator of good and bad. And so the real practice of cause and effect comes down to watching the mind, moment by moment, with unflinching honesty.

Patrul Rinpoche shares several beloved stories of Geshe Ben Kungyal, a practitioner famous for his radical self-examination. Once, Geshe Ben was expecting a visit from his patrons. That morning he arranged the offerings on his shrine with unusual care, making everything look especially beautiful. But then he paused and examined his own intention. He realized that his motivation was not pure devotion -- he was trying to impress his visitors. So he picked up a handful of dust and threw it all over the offerings, saying, "Monk, just stay where you are and don't put on airs!" When Padampa Sangye heard this story, he declared that handful of dust was the best offering in all of Tibet.

On another occasion, Geshe Ben was visiting some patrons. When his hosts left the room, the thought arose: "I have no tea. I'll steal a bit to brew up when I get back to my hermitage." But the very moment he put his hand in their bag of tea, he caught himself and called out to his hosts: "Come and look what I'm doing! Cut my hand off!" -- exposing his own thieving impulse right there in the open.

And then there is the story of the yoghurt. At a large gathering of scholars, curd was being offered to the guests. Geshe Ben, seated in the middle rows, noticed the monks in the front rows getting large, delicious portions. The thought arose: "That curd looks delicious, but I don't think I'll get my fair share." Immediately he caught himself: "You yoghurt-addict!" He turned his bowl upside down and refused the curd entirely when it came to him. "This evil mind has already taken its share," he said. It was not that wanting one's equal portion was inherently wrong -- it was the self-centered craving behind the thought that he recognized and refused to indulge.

Patrul Rinpoche also tells of a brahmin called Ravi who examined his mind at all times. Whenever a bad thought arose, he would set aside a black pebble; whenever a good thought arose, a white one. At first, all his pebbles were black. But as he persevered, the black and white piles became equal. In the end, he had only white pebbles. This is precisely how we should develop positive actions as an antidote, with mindfulness and vigilance, refusing to contaminate ourselves with even the smallest harmful act.

View and Action, Inseparable

Some might wonder whether, once you have realized the nature of emptiness, the principle of cause and effect still matters. Patrul Rinpoche addresses this directly. Someone once asked Padampa Sangye: "Once we have realized emptiness, does it still harm us to commit negative acts?" Padampa Sangye replied: "Once you realize emptiness, it would be absurd to do anything negative. When you realize emptiness, compassion arises with it simultaneously."

The Great Master of Oddiyana, Padmasambhava, put it with characteristic directness: "My view is higher than the sky, but my attention to actions and their effects is finer than flour." However vast your realization of the ultimate nature, you must still pay minute, meticulous attention to cause and effect in everything you do. View and action are not separate -- they must be cultivated side by side.

Patrul Rinpoche tells us that the living proof of having truly understood this teaching is none other than Jetsun Milarepa himself. When his disciples once suggested he must be an incarnation of a Buddha or great Bodhisattva, Milarepa rebuked them warmly: "If you take me for an incarnation of Vajradhara, it shows you have faith in me -- but you could hardly have a more mistaken view of the Dharma! I started out by heaping up extremely negative acts, using spells and making hail. I soon realized there was no way I would not be reborn in hell. So I practiced Dharma with relentless zeal." It was his absolute conviction in the principle of cause and effect, Milarepa explained, that drove him to such extraordinary effort. Anyone with that same heartfelt confidence in karma could develop the same accomplishments.

Living with Cause and Effect

How then should we live, day by day, with this understanding?

When you wake in the morning, Patrul Rinpoche counsels, do not leap from bed like a cow from its pen. While still lying down, relax your mind and examine it. If you did anything negative during the night, even in dreams, feel regret and confess it. If you did something positive, rejoice and dedicate the merit to all beings. Then generate the aspiration: "Today I will do whatever good I can and avoid whatever is harmful, so that all beings may attain perfect awakening."

At night, before sleep, take stock once more. What use have you made of this day? What have you done that was positive? Rejoice in it and dedicate the merit. Have you done something wrong? Acknowledge it honestly, confess it, and resolve never to act that way again.

At all times, cultivate mindfulness -- that inner doorkeeper who does not forget what to do and what to avoid. Cultivate vigilance -- the overseer who keeps examining your actions, words, and thoughts. And cultivate carefulness -- the quality of exercising the utmost prudence in doing what is right and abandoning what is wrong. Use these three as a shepherd watching over your mind.

This is not a practice reserved for monks or great yogis. It is the ground on which every authentic spiritual life is built. Whether we realize it fully or not, every moment of every day, we are planting seeds. The question is simply this: what kind of harvest do we wish to reap?

As Patrul Rinpoche's closing verse confesses with such tender honesty: "I know all the details of karma, but I do not really believe in it. I have heard a lot of Dharma, but never put it into practice. Bless me and evildoers like me, that our minds may mingle with the Dharma."

May we all take these words to heart and, with that mingling, begin at last to live them.