
Introduction
If love and compassion are not expressed in concrete action,
they can remain merely theoretical concepts, lofty and sublime,
but motionless and unable to have any positive effect on others.
Bhikkhu Bodhi
There is a moment in every spiritual journey when the practitioner wonders what the true meaning is of everything they have learned. After months or years of meditation, of refining breath and body awareness, of seeking inner peace, the question arises—probably sooner rather than later, but inevitably nonetheless: what is the purpose of all this? What is the use of sitting silently on a cushion while the world around us seems to be on fire?
These questions present themselves with particular urgency in a time when we are daily confronted with news about climate change, social inequality, and human suffering on a global scale.
Heart Qualities
In the Buddhist tradition, boundless love and compassion are described as the so-called Brahmaviharas, often solemnly translated as the “Sublime Abodes” or the “Divine States.” In Dutch, we speak of the four Heart Qualities: loving-kindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity. Together they form what is also called the “Liberations of the Heart.”
Those who cultivate these qualities, the tradition teaches, free themselves from ill will, from the tendency toward cruelty, and from indifference to the suffering of others. They are not abstract ideals but living forces that transform and purify the heart. In compassion training, they form the core of what we practice throughout all those weeks.
The practice of metta, or loving-kindness, typically begins by directing benevolent thoughts and wishes toward yourself, then toward loved ones, toward neutral persons, toward ‘difficult’ people, and ultimately toward all living beings without exception. It is a beautiful and powerful exercise that opens the heart and softens the natural tendency toward separation and judgment. Those who practice metta regularly often notice that irritations arise less quickly, that more space emerges for understanding, and that the boundaries between self and other gradually blur. These are valuable fruits of sincere practice, and I have often witnessed this arising during compassion training.
Salon Buddhism
Yet there is also a field of tension we must face. Bhikkhu Bodhi, one of the most respected contemporary translators and commentators of the ancient Buddhist texts of the Pali Canon, points us to an essential question. Is it sufficient to cultivate these lofty qualities inwardly, or does our time demand more?
His words are direct and sobering: if love and compassion are not expressed in concrete action, they remain theoretical concepts. Lofty and sublime perhaps, but frozen and lifeless. Unable to have any real positive effect on the lives of others. Then we become, as meditation teacher David Brazier subtly puts it, “salon Buddhists.”
This is not a critique of traditional practice but rather an invitation to deepen and broaden it and return to its true intention. The heart that is truly permeated with compassion cannot help but move into action. Not out of guilt or obligation, but from a natural responsiveness to the suffering it perceives. Just as water naturally flows to the lowest point, so a heart saturated with compassion naturally flows toward where it is needed.
Moving with Compassion
In the Tai Chi tradition, we know a similar principle. The movements we practice are not intended as an end in themselves, but as preparation for life outside the practice space. We learn to know our body anew and to relax it. Not only to feel good during class, but to carry that relaxation with us into our daily activities.
We cultivate inner stillness not to flee from the world, but to be able to act more clearly from that stillness when life calls for a response. The gentleness we develop in our movements is the same gentleness with which we can conduct a difficult conversation or comfort someone who is sad.
Stopping for a Moment
There is a classic Buddhist story about a man who is struck by a poisoned arrow. Instead of having the arrow removed, he first wants to know who shot the arrow, what wood the shaft is made of, what kind of poison was used, and so forth. The Buddha used this story to illustrate that some philosophical questions distract from what is truly urgent. We could apply the same lesson to our spiritual practice. There comes a moment when we must stop perfecting our technique and simply act with what we have.
Sometimes You Must Take Action ...
This does not mean we should abandon our formal practice, as daily meditation is called. The quiet hours on the meditation cushion or in the practice room remain very valuable. They form the root from which everything else grows. But the root alone is not enough. There must be a trunk, there must be branches, leaves, flowers, and fruits. The tree of our practice must extend into the world and offer shade and nourishment to those who need it.
Small is Beautiful
Concrete action can take many forms. For some it means volunteer work, for others supporting good causes, and for still others simply being present for family and friends going through difficult times. It can mean speaking out against injustice or quietly creating space for someone who feels unheard. It can be large-scale or small and inconspicuous. What matters is not the scale of the action, but the sincerity of the intention and the willingness to actually contribute something.
Bhikkhu Bodhi himself has set the example by founding Buddhist Global Relief, an organization dedicated to combating hunger. It is a beautiful example of how deep study and practice can result in concrete action. But not everyone needs to found a relief organization. The question is, how can your unique combination of talents, circumstances, and insights be deployed in service of others? This is a question only you can answer, and the answer will change over the years as your life changes.
And Sometimes Doing Nothing is Best...
Wisdom is needed to discern when action is appropriate and when it is not. Not every situation calls for an intervention. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is give the other person space to learn and grow themselves. The equanimity that is part of the Brahmaviharas or Heart Qualities is essential here. It prevents our compassion from degenerating into pushiness or condescension. It helps us accept that we cannot solve everything and that our actions will not always produce the desired result. But this wisdom is not gained by remaining passive. It grows through acting, failing, learning, and acting again.
In traditional Chinese philosophy, there is talk of wu wei, often translated as “non-action” or “effortless action”. This concept is sometimes misunderstood as a justification for passivity. But wu wei does not refer to the absence of action but to action that is so completely in accordance with the natural course of things that it takes place without forced effort. It is the action of the master who has become so one with their art that the boundary between doer and deed has blurred. This kind of action is actually very natural and requires years of practice and refinement. The goal is ultimately always the living world and not the practice hall alone.
The ‘Right’ Engagement
The crisis of our time calls for people who are able to act from inner peace. The world has no need for more agitated activists who project their own unprocessed anger onto external enemies. But it also has no need for contemplative types who withdraw into their private paradise of peace while others suffer. What is needed are people who have united both dimensions within themselves: the deep peace that comes from sustained practice and the willingness to risk that peace by engaging with the messiness of the world.
The Heart Qualities are not intended as a comfortable hiding place. They are a springboard. Those who truly embody boundless love and compassion do not only radiate beneficial wishes but translate those wishes into deeds. Perhaps small deeds, maybe invisible deeds, but deeds nonetheless. Wishing well-being for all living beings only truly gains meaning when it is accompanied by the willingness to contribute something to that well-being oneself.
Compassion is a Verb
Let this not be a source of guilt. Guilt is rarely a good motivation for sustainable action. Rather, let it be an invitation to look honestly at your own practice. Where does the energy get stuck? Where could it flow through to the world? What small step could you take today? A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, says the well-known Chinese proverb. That step does not have to be spectacular. It only has to be real.
In our practice spaces we cultivate love and compassion. On the meditation cushion and in Tai Chi class, we learn to open our hearts. This is valuable and necessary work. But the work is not finished when we get up from the cushion or complete the last movement of the form—then the real work begins: taking what we have cultivated to the places where it is needed. To our family, our workplace, our community, and our planet.
Liberating
The Brahmaviharas are not called Liberations of the Heart for nothing. They free us not only from negative states of mind but also from the illusion that spiritual growth is a purely individual matter. True liberation always includes the other. My peace is not complete as long as you suffer. My awakening is not full as long as it does not radiate into the world around me.
This is the challenge that Bhikkhu Bodhi presents to us. It is a challenge that you do not answer once and be done with, but that you carry with you for the rest of your life. Again and again we will ask ourselves, am I only tending to my own inner garden, or is something growing that also benefits others?
The answer will vary, and that is good. It is not about perfection but about direction. As long as we remain focused on converting our inner cultivation into concrete expression, we are on the right path.
May our practice be fruitful. Not only for ourselves, but for all beings who cross our path.
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