1、Genuine Renunciation Brings Freedom and Joy to Body and Mind, and Frees Us from Habitual Tendencies
When these mental attitudes are cultivated over a long period of time, their power naturally begins to manifest. When we encounter afflictions—whether facing suffering or even superficial happiness—we should be able to do as a one of our fellow practitioners once quoted in his bio on QQ (a Chinese messaging app) , citing a Khenpo’s original words: “When we are victorious, do not become carried away with pride; when we fail, do not become dejected, nor sink into such pain that we completely lose self-control.” As long as renunciation , and I am not even yet speaking of emptiness (śūnyatā) or bodhicitta—is strong enough, this is entirely achievable.
If renunciation is not taken as the foundation, you will find that all spiritual practice is basically ineffective. If practice is built upon a mind still oriented toward saṃsāra, progress will be extremely slow. No genuine meditative experiences will arise, and even meditative concentration (samādhi) will be difficult to sustain.
Those who are able to cultivate meditation very well actually possess at least a trace of renunciation. Strictly speaking, it may not yet be true renunciation, but rather a wish to distance themselves from vulgar worldly life. Why? Because to meditate well, one must at least sit in meditation every day. While sitting, many activities must be relinquished. If someone spends all day making money and frequenting nightclubs, can you expect that person to cultivate deep samādhi? Impossible. His “concentration” is already fully absorbed in the nightclub.
From the initial arising of renunciation to the stage where it becomes relatively strong, various negative habitual tendencies can gradually be shed. Why is that? Because the aspiration for liberation (mokṣa) becomes worth “sixty thousand,” while all those habits shrink to “three hundred.” Naturally, they lose their weight. “Letting go” does not mean they disappear entirely; it means they no longer control or influence you.
For example, last year we might have been deeply attached to something—painful, tangled, unable to let go. Yet this year, that matter has already passed. When we look back, we may think, “How foolish I was! Why did I agonize over that for so long?” There was a fellow practitioner who once took weight-loss pills that affected her skin, and she struggled emotionally over it for more than a year. Now that she has emerged from that state, if you ask her, “Was all that anguish worth it?” she would sigh and say, “At the time, I just couldn’t help it. I was so foolish back then!” She herself now recognizes it clearly.
When strong renunciation truly arises within us, we begin to see that many of our past attachments were actually quite foolish. As those fixations loosen, a special kind of joy naturally emerges—the joy of release. Renunciation brings tremendous freedom and happiness to both body and mind, and it enables us to cast off countless habitual tendencies.
The reason we lack renunciation right now is precisely because so many of our habits and tendencies simply cannot be corrected. We turn on the television “just for a moment,” and suddenly we are completely absorbed—watching and watching, unable to stop. Meanwhile, we tell ourselves, “I’ll practice later. Let me just finish this show first.”
In daily life, there are also endless trivial matters—perhaps a family member runs into trouble again, and so on. Our body and mind become tightly surrounded and entangled by all these concerns. In such a state, liberation is simply impossible.
All these things fall within the bounds of morality and social norms; they appear entirely permissible. But remember—we are Buddhists seeking liberation. If you only wish to be an ordinary worldly person, then there is no need to demand so much of yourself. Go ahead and enjoy what is enjoyable. Indulge in attachment if you like—that too has its own flavor. People often say, “Such is the taste of life—bitter and sweet.” They even write songs about it.
But if you truly seek liberation, then this will not do. Suffering must be left behind (and of course everyone wants to leave suffering behind), but happiness must also be left behind. I have emphasized this repeatedly—please remember: “leaving” does not mean that we immediately abandon everything and run off to the mountains. In fact, even the mountains must eventually be left behind.
What does “leaving” really mean? It means that in our heart we clearly understand that everything is impermanent (anitya). It can depart from us at any moment. At the same time, when suffering arises, we also recognize that suffering is impermanent—it too will leave us. Therefore, we should not be so terrified of suffering, nor so attached to happiness. By cultivating such a mind—renunciation—we will gradually gain increasing freedom and ease.
—Excerpted and adapted from Conceptual Renunciation and Genuine Renunciation
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
