The Soft Spot Our innate kinship with the suffering of others—our inability to continue to regard it from afar—is said to be the discovery of what the Buddha describes as Bodhichitta, our noble or awakened heart. Pema Chödrön calls it our Soft Spot. She says that just as butter is inherent in milk, or oil is inherent in a sesame seed, this soft spot is inherent in you and me. This soft spot made me think of a story that Ruth Lauer-Manenti told in one of her many profound Zoom talks during Covid. The Japanese composer and pianist Ryuichi Sakamoto, who is well known for composing the score to Bernardo Bertolucci’s film The Last Emperor, was living in New York City when he was diagnosed with advanced throat cancer. He decided he would undergo any treatment necessary to stay alive. He said he felt he had more music that he needed to write and put out into the world. He would go for treatment, come home, rest, recover, and then repeat it all over again. During this time, a major earthquake hit Japan, triggering powerful tsunami waves and a nuclear disaster. This was his home country, and he was watching it be devastated. He felt helpless and wanted to do something. He read about a piano that had survived the tsunami, even after being submerged for days. He decided he would go back to Japan, go to Fukushima, and play the piano. His doctor told him it was not a good idea to travel, but he nevertheless decided to go. The Japanese government asked him if he wanted the piano to be fixed and tuned for his arrival, but he said no. He wanted to play it the way it was—damaged and broken. When he arrived at the warehouse housing the piano, he sat down and began to play its broken notes. He was such a gifted pianist that he could play the broken notes in a way that still sounded beautiful. He played an intimate concert for any survivors still in the area, in the freezing cold, and received a standing ovation as he finished playing one of his most famous compositions: Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence. A journalist interviewing him afterward asked how he felt. He said that he felt an enormous amount of joy. The journalist was a little surprised, so he asked what he meant. Sakamoto said this feeling of joy was not coming from a happy-go-lucky place, but rather from a sense of deep satisfaction. His illness and its outcome now had less of a grip on him. His own intense suffering made him feel more compassionate toward himself and other people’s suffering, which in turn motivated him to do something. This led him to a feeling of great joy, rooted in deep satisfaction. This soft spot that Ryuichi discovered in himself—this innate kinship with the suffering of others—is inherent in all of us. These practices that we do together are designed to help us get in touch with our own noble and awakened hearts, one chant and one downward dog at a time. Let’s keep practicing together!
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