what you have, if you do not know how to appreciate the natural beauty of your environment, if you do not know how to be simple, then even if you were to possess all the money in the world you would still be miserable.
Renunciation, then, does not mean that we should give up our pleasure. Far from it! The whole philosophy of Buddhism in general and of tantra in particular is that, as human beings with virtually unlimited potential, we should aim for the highest pleasure possible. What true renunciation is based on is the realization that our ordinary pleasures are second rate. They are inconsequential when compared with the extraordinary bliss to be had from awakening the energies latent within us and fulfilling our deepest potential.
Not only are these ordinary pleasures second rate, but our grasping at them prevents us from experiencing the superior happiness of full self-realization.
Our grasping, squeezing attitude is an intoxicant that dulls our natural clarity. We become more and more deeply enmeshed in the world of ordinary appearances and more and more removed from our essential nature. To develop renunciation means to realize how our ordinary reliance on pleasure is preventing us from tasting this higher, more complete happiness.
With the proper development of renunciation we give ourselves a break from our usual compulsive and constricting reliance on sense pleasures. The more we understand that these pleasures are not capable of giving us the lasting happiness we desire, the more we relax our expectations and become realistic. Instead of being uptight, from either craving after pleasure or rejecting it guiltily, we feel more at ease. Unpleasant circumstances cease to bother us so much. And if we experience something pleasant we accept it comfortably, taking what enjoyment it has to give without demanding or expecting anything more from it. We can be relaxed in this way not only because we understand that these pleasures are transitory, but because our sights are set on an even higher form of happiness: the fulfillment of our essential nature. With this transcendental goal in mind we do not become overly excited by the fleeting pleasures we experience nor do we become depressed when things are going badly. In other words, instead of taking refuge in sensory objects as the solution to our dissatisfaction, we place our reliance on our own inner potential.
GI VI NG UP FALSE REFUGE
The phrase “taking refuge” is borrowed from its traditional context—the often-repeated Buddhist declaration of faith in the teachers, teachings, and spiritual community: “I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, I take refuge in the Sangha”—to make the point that taking refuge in momentary, transitory pleasures is something we are doing all the time with an almost religious fervor and conviction. For example, one day we may think, “Oh, I am so depressed; I think I’ll go to the beach,” so we drive to the ocean, jump into the water, play around like fish and then lie down to fry in the sun. When this becomes boring, we think, “Now I am hungry; where is the refreshment stand?”
Then we stuff ourselves with as much junk food as possible, hoping to find some satisfaction in the ice cream, popcorn, Coke, and chocolate we are devouring. We take refuge in these things as a way out of our depression and boredom, only to end up fat and sunburned.
When Buddhism speaks of taking refuge it is emphasizing the importance of breaking out of this desperate, unfulfilling search for satisfaction. Taking true refuge involves a changing of our attitude; it comes from seeing the ultimate worthlessness of the transitory phenomena we are ordinarily attracted to. When we see clearly the unsatisfactory character of the things we have been chasing after, our compulsive striving for them will automatically diminish and the driving force of our grasping will subside. We cease to be tossed this way and