Understanding Karma

Turning the Mind Toward Freedom

Karma is one of the four reminders. The others are the preciousness of human life, impermanence and death, and the unsatisfactory nature of samsara. Together, these contemplations wake us up to our situation and how we create a path to liberation or further embed ourselves in suffering.

This life gives us a rare opportunity to practice. It will not last forever. Our actions have consequences. And habitual acts caused by grasping and fixation cannot provide lasting satisfaction.

Today we’re looking at Karma. People sometimes say “karma is a bitch”. But karma is actually good news. Understanding how we create and live the dynamics of our actions shows us where change is possible. We can pray for guidance and strength, but we actually have the ability to effect change in our lives each moment.

The word “karma” means action. It refers to actions of body, speech, and mind that arise from particular motivations and lead to particular results. Karma is sometimes misunderstood as fate or punishment. When something painful happens, we say, “That must be my karma,” as if karma meant that by suffering we were proven guilty.

But karma is not a system of cosmic reward and punishment. It is a teaching about cause and effect. Certain intentions and actions tend to produce suffering while others tend to toward well-being and freedom. A challenge lies in the way many actions that produce suffering appear to be beneficial at first glance. They are wolves in sheeps lingerie, so to speak. How often do the things we want, need or feel obliged to actually further indebt us to the momentum of samsara?

The conditions of the present have been shaped by many causes, some of which are beyond our knowledge or control. Yet our response in this moment becomes a new cause and that cause will plant the seed for the next condition. We have a choice: we can blindly go along with the momentum we’re generated, or make an active, conscious choice.

Hence, Karma is not our fault, but it is our responsibility. And it is an opportunity for us to wake up and gain agency in our lives. The point is we are conditioned, but not helpless.

Let’s look at our life. Suppose someone criticizes us. Before we have time to think, the body tightens and the mind begins preparing a defense. Perhaps we interrupt, attack the other person, or withdraw into cold silence. The exchange may last only a few minutes, but something has been reinforced. We have strengthened the habit of meeting discomfort with defensiveness.

And, as actions condition the likelihood of their recurrence, the next time criticism comes, that response may arise even more quickly.

Grasping becomes action, actions become habits, and habits shape the world we experience. If we repeatedly rehearse resentment, we inhabit an increasingly resentful mind. If we practice generosity, patience, or honesty, those qualities become more available to us.

Even our thoughts have this quality. A difficult thought may arise without invitation, but what happens next matters. Do we feed it, repeat it, and build an identity around it? Or do we recognize it as a passing mental event and allow it to dissolve?

We may not be responsible for every thought that appears, but we can learn to take responsibility for what we cultivate. Working with Karma is as if we were to become gardeners of the soul. We plant seeds and experience what has been sown. And we fertilize our actions by intention. Were we awake and making a mindful decision to benefit ourselves and others? Or were we acting out of habitual blind reaction? Were we acting our of selflessness or selfishness?

Therefore, in considering karma, intention is crucial. We might give someone a gift out of genuine care, out of obligation, or because we want to control how they see us. The visible action is the same, but the imprint on the mind is different.

Before an important action, we can pause and ask, “What is moving me right now?” Is it kindness? Fear? Pride? Anger? The wish to be admired? The wish to help? We ask because seeing our motivation offers us agency.

A useful practice is to bring three questions into daily life:

  1. What is my intention?
  2. What habit will this action strengthen?
  3. Is this likely to reduce suffering or increase it?

We can ask these questions before sending a heated message, repeating gossip, making a purchase, or entering an argument. We can also ask them before a generous act, so that we consciously recognize and strengthen what is beneficial.

Karma does not concern only dramatic moral decisions. Much of our life is shaped by small, repeated actions. Do we reach for our phone whenever we feel uncomfortable? Do we speak impatiently to the people closest to us? Do we avoid responsibilities and then create explanations for why we could not fulfill them?

On the beneficial side, do we express gratitude? Do we listen without planning our response? Do we refrain from a harsh word? Do we admit when we are wrong?

And, as we’ve seen, every repetition strengthens a direction.

We become angry to protect ourselves, but the anger disturbs our minds and damages our relationships. We grasp at pleasant experiences, but our fear of losing them prevents us from resting. We defend a fixed image of ourselves, but then we must constantly protect it.

To turn away from samsara is to become less willing to live automatically inside these patterns.

This does not mean turning away from family, work, enjoyment, or ordinary life. It means turning away from the habits that keep producing suffering. Ordinary life becomes the place of practice.

Of course, we will continue to make mistakes. The teaching on karma should not lead to guilt, fear, or obsessive self-monitoring. Guilt often says, “I am bad.” Wise regret says, “That action caused harm, and I want to choose differently.”

Here is a contemplation whenever we recognize a harmful thought, action or consequence:

  • First, acknowledge honestly what happened. Second, allow genuine regret—not self-hatred, but a clear recognition of the consequences. Third, repair the harm where possible. Fourth, form a specific intention for what we will do differently.
  • This process interrupts the tendency either to deny our actions or to define ourselves permanently by them. Karma means actions have consequences, but it also means new actions can create new conditions.

A short evening review can make this teaching very concrete. At the end of the day, take five minutes.

  • Ask, “Where did I act today from generosity, patience, honesty, or compassion?” Appreciate those moments. Rejoicing in beneficial action helps strengthen it.
  • Then ask, “Where did I act from grasping, aversion, or confusion?” Look clearly, without excuses and without hostility. Choose one situation and imagine a wiser response. If repair is needed, decide how to begin it.
  • Finally, set one intention for tomorrow.
  • The other reminders support this practice. Precious human life tells us that we have the capacity to choose. Impermanence tells us not to postpone the work. The suffering of samsara shows us what happens when we continue acting unconsciously. But karma brings the teaching directly into this moment.

When a situation arises that we choose to look in to, pause for one breath. Feel what is happening in the body. Notice the motivation. Ask, “What am I about to strengthen?”

Then choose the next action as carefully as you can.

Liberation may seem vast or distant. But its direction is established very close to home: in the intentions we cultivate, the habits we interrupt, the harm we repair, and the next choice we make.

So, if Karma is a bitch, then it’s our bitch. It is our way of navigating from suffering in samsara toward liberation.


A WORKABLE MIND

Paying Attention to the Tool We Use to Pay Attention

Before I take my brain out in public, it seems only prudent to check the machinery. Before I unleash my normally passionate—and sometimes reactive—engagement with the world, I like to get in sync with my mind, and have some idea how I’m actually feeling. How I am feeling will influence how I’m doing.

This is called “mindfulness of mind.”

You’ve heard me say this before, but of all the things we’ve applied our minds to, all the things we’ve learned, assimilated, perceived, felt, tasted, touched, and thought about, the one thing we rarely investigate is the very tool doing the investigating. It’s as though awareness of our own mind lies behind a firewall that keeps us from seeing it’s machinery.

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

Similarly, when we sit in meditation, we often fail to notice the mind that is actually meditating. Instead, we seek relaxation, comfort, or elevated states of consciousness. YouTube is filled with guided meditations promising euphoria, deeper vibrations, heightened awareness, or awakened desire. Yet one of the greatest possibilities is often overlooked: learning to work with the mind itself.

To do that, we first have to look at it. And what better place than the relative stillness of meditation?

Rather than trying to achieve anything, we can engage in what I think of as pure investigation. Captain Kirk referred to the Prime Directive issued from Starfleet Command – observe without interference. If we’re trying to force the mind into solving problems or elevate it to some higher state, we’re using the mind to do something instead of discovering what it already is. As necessary as it is to occasionally do things, the doing mind is not poised to see itself. Before we can know what the mind is capable of, we have to learn to simply look without creating any complication.

When we next sit in meditation, we can begin with a blank slate. “Blank” is in quotes because the mind is still full of thoughts, habits, and the momentum of our actions. But we can step back from the display rather than becoming caught in it. Each time we notice we’ve wandered, we gently return to the object of meditation—the breath, a mantra, an image, or a candle flame. That return creates space and perspective.

The technique is wonderfully simple. Follow it with patience and persistence. When we’re lost in thought, notice it, accept it, release it, and return. When we notice ourselves judging, planning, or reacting, do the same. Every return loosens the grip of the thinking mind and allows its natural openness to emerge.

In Vajrayana Buddhism it’s said that the space the mind encompasses is the same space the universe encompasses, and that this space is imbued with intelligence. That word can be misleading. This isn’t intelligence in the sense of being clever; it’s raw wisdom. In Tibetan Buddhism it’s called rigpa—the awake quality underlying experience itself. It’s easily overlooked because it is so simple and so open. And it is that openness that allows us the space to see clearly.

That bit of philosophy is really just background. The practice itself remains uncomplicated. Keep returning to the object of meditation and allow the mind to reveal the space to reveal the mind. The mind knowing itself is a process best kept prosaic rather than mystical. Scientists don’t get overly dramatic during the investigation.

What we often discover isn’t mystical at all. We might simply notice, My mind is very reactive today. Or, I’m exhausted. Or, I’m feeling needy. When those observations arise, treat them like any other thought: notice them, acknowledge them, release your grip, and return to the practice. One profoundly beautiful aspect of meditation is that this simple process creates space for flashes of insight. The temptation, of course, is to grab hold of them. Look how smart I am.

Trungpa, Rinpoche, described the proper relationship as “touch and go.” Appreciate the insight, then let it pass. We’re not dismissing it. We’re simply refusing to interrupt the mind’s natural capacity to continue discovering. Grasping, by definition, narrows the mind. Releasing our grip allows the space for the mind to have glimpses of itself. Over time these brief glimpses accumulate. We develop a more cooperative relationship with our own minds. Instead of being led around like an animal with a ring through its nose, we begin to stand beside this remarkable gift we’ve inherited through evolution. We gain the freedom to respond rather than merely react.

One final disclaimer: these glimpses are only the beginning. Here we’re talking about the relative mind—the mind we take out the door each morning to meet the world. Yes, there are deeper dimensions of awareness explored in contemplative traditions. And no, You Tube likely won’t get us there. But before reaching for extraordinary experiences, it’s wise to become familiar with the ordinary mind we already have.

In Vajrayana Buddhism they believe it’s the ordinary mind that reveals the mind’s magic.

It may be that one of the most profound things we can do is simply learn to work with that relative mind, presenting ourselves to the world in a functional, creative, and compassionate way—responding with intention instead of habit. In this way, everything is fresh.

Life recreates itself in every breath.