📿 Mind-Training Slogans For When We Want to Complain

Teachings from centuries ago that feel oddly relevant right now

Complaining Customer In Restaurant by Honore Daumier

My life’s work to date has, to a certain extent, been about taking the more esoteric teachings of Buddhism and bringing them to bare on our modern world. I have very few original ideas; I just seem to have a knack for translating these teachings into applicable uses for living in the 21st century. With that in mind, over the next however many weeks, I want to explore one of my favorite collections of Buddhist teachings: the lojong, or “mind-training,” slogans.

These fifty-nine short phrases were brought to Tibet by the great Indian Buddhist master Atisha in the eleventh century. They are wonderfully compact, sometimes a little cryptic, and relentlessly practical. They aren’t meant to be intellectualized. They’re meant to be lived.

This week’s first slogan is:

Don’t talk about injured limbs.

If you are of a certain generation, a Monty Python refrain might immediately spring to mind: “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Why is this considered one of the pithiest, most profound teachings of Buddhism? Just how often in Atisha’s day did someone lose a hand and just wander around complaining about it? Was that so commonplace an annoyance that Atisha simply had to incorporate it into his teachings?

Of course though, an injured limb isn’t a literal injury. An “injured limb” refers to a perceived weakness—our own or someone else’s.

Someone Else’s Injured Limbs

When it comes to someone else, this means don’t go around talking about their shortcomings, blind spots, habits, or failures.

Most of us assume that talking about other people’s flaws is harmless. Sometimes we call it venting. Sometimes we call it processing. Sometimes we convince ourselves we’re “just being honest.”

But if we are actually honest with ourselves, much of the time it serves a different purpose.

It quietly builds up our own ego. It puffs us up and makes us feel superior to other people.

Every criticism carries an unspoken comparison: “At least I’m not like that.”

The strange thing is that this doesn’t actually make us feel stronger. It just keeps our minds occupied with judgment, blocking us from the present moment.

To be clear: the slogan isn’t asking us to pretend that everyone is perfect. Some people are unreliable. Some are selfish. Some are difficult to work with. That’s simply the reality of our situation.

The lojong, or mind-training, slogans never ask us to abandon reality.

Instead, they ask us to work with reality compassionately.

If someone consistently misses deadlines, pretending they’re on top of their stuff doesn’t help anyone. But neither does spending the day talking about how impossible they are to work with. A wiser response is to acknowledge the situation clearly and ask, “Given who this person is right now, what’s the most skillful way to move forward?”

When I do that, it simply feels…different.

One approach feeds irritation.

The other searches for solutions.

Our Own Injured Limbs

As for talking about our own injured limbs, this is where it gets really juicy for me.

Years ago during a meditation retreat, my teacher offered a simple instruction that has stayed with me: don’t complain.

He implored us, for one year, to just not complain. Things can go wrong. Things can suck. But complaining is just lumping pain on top of the suffering that is already there. Complaining drains our life-force. It consumes energy that could instead be used to respond creatively.

In the year that followed, I found that to be surprisingly true.

The more I rehearsed my grievances, the more convincing they became—and the less capable I felt of changing anything in a meaningful way. Today, when I am exhausted at the end of the day and don’t feel like I’ve taken any meaningful time for myself I notice that voice pipe up that wants to complain. And, while I’m by no means perfect, I find myself often noticing the impulse and acknowledging it, letting it go, and coming back to whatever is actually happening in the present moment.

Which brings us to another famous lojong slogan:

Drive all blames into one.

That “one” isn’t your spouse.

Or your boss.

Or that world-threatening politician.

It’s the egoistic mind itself.

And by that I mean the habit of constantly dividing the world into me and them, heroes and villains, right and wrong.

As the Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh used to encourage his students, when we’re absolutely convinced of our story (such as why we are indeed right, actually Lodro), we might pause and ask one simple question:

Are you sure?

I find myself encouraging people I work with to even write those words on a piece of paper and tape them to the wall.

Because our initial perceptions are not always accurate.

As the Tibetan Buddhist teacher Traleg Rinpoche wrote:

“Because our perceptions are not always correct and may not be a genuine reflection of what has taken place, we should always ask ourselves, ‘Maybe this isn’t how things really are. It might just be my own biased, egoistic mind projecting something onto the situation.’”

That doesn’t mean becoming passive or pretending harmful behavior is acceptable.

Lojong does not ask us to become doormats.

If someone is abusive, it’s wise to set boundaries.

If injustice is occurring, it’s great to speak up.

If a difficult conversation is needed, have it.

The question is whether we’re acting from clarity—actually in tune with the present moment—or from ego’s desire to elevate itself by putting someone else down.

One more quote on this topic. The Tibetan Buddhist teacher Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche often emphasized that suffering isn’t ultimately caused by the people around us but by our unwillingness to let go of fixation. He said:

“We could blame an infinite variety of things. But it is we who are not letting go, not developing enough warmth and sympathy—which makes us problematic.”

That’s both the bad news and the good news.

The bad news is that no one else can do this work for us.

The good news is that no one else has to.

Our freedom doesn’t depend on everyone around us becoming easier to live with.

It depends on waking up.

This week, I’d like to offer a very simple practice for anyone who has read this far and is up for the challenge:

Try and go seven days without complaining.

Notice how often you’re tempted to point out someone else’s short-comings, their “injured limb.”

Notice how often your mind wants to rehearse what’s wrong with another person.

When you catch yourself, pause.

Ask, “Are you sure?”

Then ask a second question: “What’s the most helpful response available right now?”

That small shift—from blame to responsibility, from criticism to compassion—is where real mind training begins. I’ll be right there in the trenches this week, doing it with you. Thanks for reading The Laundry.

P.S. if you’d like more mind-training, or lojong, in your life, click here for a course I’m leading covering all 59 slogans starting in August

To hear Lodro read today’s piece, click above