Suffering and the Compass of Life
 

“Happiness is stereotypical, but suffering is rich in variety.” I once came across those words in a book, and they have stayed in my mind ever since.

When we hear that someone is “happy,” we naturally imagine a certain kind of life — good health, peaceful relationships, stability, and comfort. Although life in modern America is very different from life in ancient India, every age seems to share some common image of happiness. Suffering, however, is very different. Every person suffers in his or her own way. Human lives are woven together like tapestries, each with different colors and patterns.

There is an old story about a Persian king who wished to know the history of humankind. He ordered scholars to compile the history of the world. After twenty years, the scholars completed fifty large volumes. But by then, the king had grown old and no longer had the strength to read them.

“Make it shorter,” the king commanded.

The scholars spent another ten years condensing the work into five volumes. Yet the king had become even older and still could not read them.

“Shorten it even more,” he ordered again.

One year later, the scholars returned with a single volume. But by that time, the king was already lying on his deathbed. With a faint voice, he said, “Tell me the essence in one sentence.”

A scholar leaned close to the king’s ear and quietly said:

“Human beings are born, they suffer, and they die. That is the history of humankind.”

Soon after hearing those words, the king passed away.

Human beings are born, and human beings die. Between birth and death, we experience both joy and suffering. Happiness may appear similar from person to person, but suffering takes many forms. And sometimes, it is suffering itself that causes us to look deeply into our lives. If life were always smooth and easy, perhaps we would never stop to reflect upon ourselves. But suffering visits all of us from time to time — illness, separation, loneliness, anxiety, disappointment.

Through such experiences, we begin asking deeper questions about life. Seen in this way, suffering may not simply be misfortune. It may also become the doorway to awakening.

Yet when we suffer, we naturally seek comfort. In times of darkness, we long for light. During the time of Shakyamuni Buddha, many people also lived in sorrow and despair. The Buddha listened to their suffering and reached out to them with compassion. But it is important to remember that the Buddha did not save people through miracles.

When a grieving mother mourned her dead child, the Buddha did not bring the child back to life. Instead, he guided her toward the wisdom already within her. Gradually, she came to realize the truth that all human beings must face death, and through that realization, she was freed from her deep anguish. Everyone already knows that the dead do not return. Yet when we lose someone we deeply love, we forget what we once understood. The Buddha helped people awaken from that universal human suffering and confusion. In this, we can see the universality of the Buddha’s compassion.

When a ship sails across the ocean, it needs a compass. Without one, it cannot know which direction to follow. Today, however, many people simply look at the ships around them and think, “If I go the same way as everyone else, I will be safe.” Yet those neighboring ships may also be looking at others for direction.

Sometimes modern life seems to have only a speedometer, but no compass. We pay attention only to how fast we are moving, while forgetting to ask where we are going. The Buddha’s teaching and Shinran’s words may serve as the compass within our hearts. Each of us must discover that compass for ourselves, and we must also pass this guidance on to future generations. In that sense, I hope we may continue to share Amida’s guiding light — the compass of our lives — with care, gratitude, and humility.

Namo Amida Butsu.