'Faith' v. 'confidence.' What do they mean to you, dear reader?
A mouse-size musing from the Dalai Lama's Cat
Before we dive into today’s article a quick announcement: if you happen to find yourself in Harare, Zimbabwe on August 24th and 25th, and would like to share a weekend of teachings and meditations on the Heart Sutra with me, please come along! It’s free, but you do need to register. You’ll find more information here.
“What do the words ‘faith’ versus ‘confidence’ mean to you?”
It wasn’t my question, dear reader, but Oliver’s. Pushing back from his desk in the Executive Assistant’s office, His Holiness’s translator asked this question of Tenzin, who was sitting behind the facing desk, lifting a cup of tea to his lips.
It was four o’clock on a summer afternoon and the two men were enjoying a break, Tenzin from drafting diplomatic emails on behalf of the Dalai Lama. Oliver from reviewing a Sanskrit text that had been translated into English. Sprawled on top of the filing cabinet, I blinked open my eyes drowsily.
I had spent most of the afternoon in their office, having no wish to venture out. During the heat of summer, Dharamshala was unbearable. Sidewalks were like stovetops. Exhaust fumes lingered oppressively. For a feline with a coat as luxuriant as mine, venturing out on a day like this was like walking into a furnace. Why would you? Much better to stay on the cool, metal surface of the filing cabinet, with the air-conditioning unit circulating chilled air from a short distance away.
Tenzin sipped tea contemplatively before replying, “The two words are related, but they are quite distinct.”
“It’s about getting the right nuance,” said Oliver, nuance being an ongoing preoccupation of his. “Other spiritual traditions use words like ‘faith’ when talking about God. But in Buddhism, our idea of faith is based on personal experience.”
“The focus of the two words is different,” agreed Tenzin, as much a word-smith as Oliver. Then responding to the glint of inquiry in Oliver’s clear blue eyes, “Faith is more about the external – holy scriptures, divine events, things outside us. Confidence is more about ourselves – what we know and evaluate rationally.”
“I suppose faith is about the unknown or unseen,” agreed Oliver. “Something for which there is no direct evidence – at least, not the kind that would satisfy scientists or lawyers. But confidence is about our past experience.”
At that moment we heard the sound of familiar footfall on the corridor outside accompanied by a distinctive jangle of bracelets. Moments later Mrs. Trinci, the Dalai Lama’s VIP chef, and my greatest benefactor - apart from His Holiness - swept into the room. In a vivid, floral dress, she was flamboyantly attired for the balmy day.
“Just in time!” With a flourish she placed a tray on a side table, before presenting each of the men with their treat: a generous slice of Black Forest Gateau.
Oliver and Tenzin chuckled in surprise. Mrs. Trinci beamed indulgently. She was downstairs to prepare for tomorrow’s lunch with a visiting President, she told them. While here, she had baked a cake for His Holiness to enjoy. Why should his Executive Assistants not enjoy it too?
Why indeed, I thought. But what about His Holiness’s Cat?
There was chatter about the forthcoming Presidential visit. About the searing heat. About a lunchtime news item reporting how temperatures were so scorching that a mountain road, not far away, had actually begun to melt.
“That’s why this one hasn’t gone out today,” Tenzin gestured towards the filing cabinet. “Her paws on the hot pavements-”
“Mamma mia!” Wailed Mrs. Trinci catching sight of me for the first time. ‘How could I have not noticed The Most Beautiful Creature than Ever Lived?” Stepping behind Tenzin to approach me, she reached out stroking my neck. “Trapped inside like a poor, caged beast.”
“She’s off her food,” Oliver told her.
“Really?” Mrs. Trinci leaned closer, regarding me tenderly through darkly lashed eyes.
“The heat, I suspect. She didn’t have any wet food this morning. Or biscuits.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Trinci’s mouth pouted at the pathos of it. “My poor little tessorino!”
Moment later she left the room, leaving the men to their cake, Tenzin consuming his in discreet and prudent forkfuls. Oliver attacking his own slice with gusto.
“The challenge I’m having,” Oliver nodded to his computer screen, “is that this translator uses the word ‘faith’ a lot. In most cases, I think it should translate as ‘confidence.’ In English, ‘faith’ is the word we generally use for spiritual matters. We keep ‘confidence’ for more mundane activities. Having said that, there’s a devotional element associated with the word ‘faith’ that is important. We don’t tend to link the idea of devotion to the word ‘confidence.’
“The old conundrum,” nodded Tenzin.
The two of them often discussed the difficulty of translating Sanskrit into English. Sanskrit, one of the most ancient Indo-European languages described subtle mental phenomena using a wide variety of words that didn’t have English equivalents. Just as Inuit people have many words for ‘ice,’ Arabs for ‘camel’ and Japanese for ‘rain,’ so too the language of the sages, of ancient Indian cultures with a deep, spiritual focus, had a whole lexicon of words with different meanings.
“Prayer versus affirmation,” said Oliver.
Tenzin nodded.
Oliver battled with the word ‘prayer.’ Sanskrit had several different words which might be translated as ‘prayer’, each with separate inferences. Buddhists didn’t have the idea of an external divine being. But ‘affirmation,’ didn’t seem quite right either.
“I’ve heard some lamas talk about good faith versus bad faith,” said Tenzin, glancing up from his plate after a pause.
“Really?”
“Good faith,” nodded Tenzin, “based on personal experience. Bad faith when we believe something because we like the sound of it. Or because the person in front of us is very persuasive. Or because lots of other people think the same thing.”
Oliver was scraping the remains of chocolate icing off his plate with a fork. “Which is bad because?”
“It’s like a sandcastle,” shrugged Tenzin. “Easily destroyed. If our views aren’t supported by personal experience, they’re demolished when reality comes crashing down on us.”
“We’re not invested in them?”
“They’re only concepts,” agreed Tenzin, “ideals we want to believe in.”
“I like how the Dharma describes confidence arising from listening, thinking and meditating,” concurred Oliver. “Once we do that, no one can persuade us that we don’t experience reality subjectively, or that mind-training doesn’t profoundly change that experience, no matter how charismatic they may be.”
“Which comes back to what you were saying about the element of devotion,” replied Tenzin. “I have heard ‘faith in the guru’ defined as a state of mind that arises when we recognise the realisations we have made based on our guru’s teachings.”
“Gratitude and devotion,” agreed Oliver.
“As much a state of heart,” suggested Tenzin, “as of mind.”
“Nicely put. ‘State of heart.’ I’ll have that idea thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” grinned Tenzin.
“And I’ve heard the definition of reverence-” said Oliver, “- as the state of mind that arises when we reflect on the guru’s kindness.”
“Experience-based,” chimed Tenzin.
As the two men continued their erudite conversation, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t care less whether my own state of mind, at that particular moment, might be more accurately described as ‘faith’ or ‘confidence.’ Whichever it was, I had plenty of it. Based on my whole lifetime’s experience.
We cats can be patient creatures when we need to be. In our distant past, as creatures of the night stalking our prey, we had to wait very long periods in motionless anticipation. And even though I may have appeared to the two Executive Assistants to be merely dozing, in reality I was acutely tuned in – not to their parsing of words, but to sounds coming from the passage outside. And further, to the stairs that led up from the kitchen. Listening attentively for the sounds I felt sure would come - and which eventually did - of approaching footsteps, clinking bracelets and the voluble re-appearance of Mrs. Trinci.
“Just a little soupҫon for our special friend!” she proclaimed, approaching me once again. This time with a wooden serving board on which she’d arranged dainty slices of finely-cut cheese.
“Mature cheddar, her favourite,” she said. Nostrils quivering, I rose to my feet, bobbing my head towards where she held out a sliver.
I was soon mashing the cheddar with the same delighted relish that Oliver had devoured his cake.
“First thing she’s eaten today,” observed Oliver.
“She’s suffering with the heat!” crooned Mrs. Trinci, face creased in pity.
“Most of us eat less when it’s hot,” pointed out Tenzin. “It’s not like she’s fading away.”
For a diplomat, Tenzin could be most undiplomatic at times. Not that I dignified his remark with so much as a baleful glance. Mrs. Trinci’s sharp, olde English cheddar was far too captivating!
“There are some words that can’t be translated at all,” observed Oliver as Mrs. Trinci continued to hand feed me. “Like Om.” Then pronouncing it in a more elongated fashion, “Aum.”
“The primordial sound of the universe,” said Tenzin. “Or, waking, dreaming, sleeping – all states of consciousness.”
“Hindus,” replied Oliver, “might say that Om refers to Brahma the creator, Vishnu the preserver and Shiva the destroyer.”
Mrs. Trinci turned from where she was studying me closely. “I thought that Om means past, present and future. The whole of time.”
After a pause, Oliver said, “I think we’re all right. Om is profound. Multidimensional. It’s beyond all that’s mundane, representing supreme experience.”
Having swallowed the last of the cheese, I leaned forward and head-butted Mrs. Trinci on the cheeks and forehead. I moved my face from side to side, in a display of esteem and possession. The humans watched in silence, before I drew back.
“Maybe the ultimate language needs no translation at all,” said Oliver.
Later, after the men had left for the day, I heard the door to our apartment open and the sound of the Dalai Lama approaching.
“There you are!” he said. “I was worried about you in this heat.”
Taking me in his arms, he returned to the room where we spent so much of our time, His Holiness at his desk or receiving visitors, and me sitting on the broad wooden windowsill overlooking the Namgyal Monastery courtyard. Today, he walked to the window with its view down the Kangra valley towards the Himalayas, successive ranges rising into the distance.
It was the place he’d first brought me as a kitten. The same place he’d held me throughout my life. What Oliver and Tenzin discussed earlier must have remained with me at some level, because I found myself becoming aware of how much I had grown and changed because of the Dalai Lama. Our meditations in the early hours of each day. The conversations on which I’d eavesdropped, the beings whose presence I had felt. If it weren’t for him, I would be a completely different cat!
And as the first whisper of an evening wind through the open window brought with it uplifting fragrances of pine, rhododendron and Himalayan oak, I realised what Oliver meant about devotion. The state of mind, of heart, that arises when we recognise how we’ve changed through the benevolence of another being.
Spontaneously, I began to purr, my throaty, heartfelt appreciation reverberating in the pristine stillness. As so often in the embrace of the Dalai Lama, all distinctions dissolved away, between past and present, outer and inner, cat and lama, so that there was only a sublime state of transcendence, here and now, one that was boundless, lucid and imbued with peace.
“Aum,” said His Holiness softly as he held me to him. The primordial sound of the universe. One that, like my purr, was both beyond translation and ineffable. “Same, same,” he murmured.
Buddha’s words from the Kalama Sutra:
“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumoured by many. Do not believe anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”
If you’d like to read a short story in which I explore the importance of listening, thinking and meditating to cultivate our inner confidence/faith, you can do so here.
I’d like to share some beautiful images from Twala Trust Animal Sanctuary - one of the charities you support as a subscriber to this newsletter. The photo and video are just in from Sarah Carter, who runs the sanctuary supported by her team. Part of a donation we made recently was used to buy a significant consignment of stock feed, which is eagerly devoured by a wide range of animals, both African and domestic. This includes love-bug Layla the duiker.
Layla is one of Twala’s first residents, rescued as a new born fawn after she lost her Mum in a bush fire. She’s been at Twala for 10 years and is a favourite of regular visitors, who she likes to greet at the garden gate. The stock feed is part of her daily diet which also includes a variety of fruit, vegetables and browse from indigenous trees and plants.
The feed is also being used to help other hungry antelope, tortoises, pigs, donkeys, goats, cattle, chicken, geese, ducks, swans, rabbits, Guinea pigs and baboons …
… not forgetting Griffin and Bless.
Thank you so much for helping feed these beautiful animals, some of whom have been through terrible ordeals and most of whom would have died or been euthanised if it weren’t for Sarah and her team.
How wonderful to be back in the world of HHC and His Holiness. Dare I hope that this chapter 1 of the 7th in the series?
Always a pleasure to be transported to Dharamshala...my happy place. Thank you for the visit.