Basic Goodness

The Compassionate Striving: Basic Goodness and the Nature of Desire in Buddhist Thought

Western interpretations of Buddhism often mischaracterize it as a pessimistic or life-denying philosophy, focusing on its teachings of suffering and detachment. However, this view overlooks one of its most profound and optimistic foundations: the principle of basic goodness. This is the inherent potential for enlightenment, a fundamental purity of being, that resides within every sentient creature. From this perspective, even the most challenging aspects of the human condition, such as craving and aversion, are not seen as signs of inherent sinfulness or corruption. Instead, they are understood as misguided expressions of a fundamental, compassionate striving for happiness and an end to suffering, a form of inherent self-compassion that has simply lost its way.

At the core of this understanding is the Mahayana concept of Tathāgatagarbha, or Buddha-nature. This doctrine posits that the fundamental nature of mind is primordially pure, luminous, and wise. It is like a clear, open sky, which can be temporarily obscured by the passing clouds of greed, hatred, and ignorance, but is never stained or diminished by them. The clouds are not the sky, and our defilements are not our true nature. This stands in stark contrast to the idea of original sin found in other traditions, where the individual is born into a state of inherent flaw. In the Buddhist view, our core being is not broken, sinful, or in need of redemption from an external source; it is merely obscured. The spiritual path, therefore, is not a battle to eradicate a wicked self, but a process of purification and recognition—a journey of letting the clouds of confusion dissolve to reveal the brilliant sun of our true nature that has been present all along.

The primary forces that obscure this nature are craving (lobha) and aversion (dosa). Craving is the compulsive impulse to grasp onto pleasant experiences, people, and objects, driven by the mistaken belief that they can provide lasting security and happiness. Aversion is the opposite reaction: the instinct to violently push away unpleasant or painful stimuli, believing that their absence will guarantee our peace. Both of these powerful drives are rooted in a fundamental ignorance (avijjā) of the true nature of reality, particularly the truth of impermanence (anicca). We desperately try to hold onto things that are by their very nature fleeting, and we exhaust ourselves fighting off experiences that are an unavoidable part of life. This constant pulling and pushing against the natural flow of existence is the very mechanism that creates and perpetuates suffering (dukkha).

Yet, when viewed through the lens of basic goodness, these seemingly negative forces are reframed. If our most fundamental drive is to experience the well-being of our own enlightened nature, then craving and aversion are not moral failures but simply tactical errors in that pursuit. They are the expression of a deep, innate form of self-compassion that has become confused. The mind is constantly trying to navigate toward ease and away from pain. When we crave a piece of cake, the underlying, innocent impulse is, "I want to experience a moment of pleasure and happiness." When we feel aversion toward criticism, the raw instinct is, "I want to be safe from the pain of rejection." This is a profoundly compassionate, protective mechanism. The problem is not the intrinsic desire for happiness, but the flawed strategy we employ to achieve it. We mistakenly seek lasting fulfillment in the ephemeral world of external conditions, rather than turning inward to discover the unconditional peace of our own true nature.

In conclusion, Buddhist thought offers a radically compassionate view of the human condition. It begins with the premise of an inviolable, basic goodness at the heart of our being. From this standpoint, the destructive patterns of craving and aversion are not evidence of our corruption, but are poignant, misguided attempts to find happiness. They are the clumsy expressions of an inherent self-compassion, distorted by the lens of ignorance. Understanding this transforms the spiritual journey from a war against the self into a gentle process of unlearning. It becomes an act of profound kindness, where we learn to redirect our innate striving for happiness away from fleeting externals and toward the luminous, peaceful, and compassionate nature that has been our birthright from the very beginning.

The Loving Gaze on What Is: Amor Fati Through the Lens of Basic Goodness

At first glance, the Buddhist path of mindfulness and the Stoic embrace of Amor Fati—the love of one's fate—may seem like philosophies from different worlds. One originates in the meditative traditions of the East, focused on the nature of mind and the cessation of suffering, while the other comes from the Greco-Roman world, emphasizing reason and virtue in the face of external events. Yet, when placed in dialogue, they reveal a deeply resonant and complementary vision for human flourishing. The Buddhist principle of basic goodness, which reframes craving and aversion as a misguided form of self-compassion, provides the psychological foundation needed to practice Amor Fati not as a grim act of resignation, but as a profound expression of awareness, love, compassion, and wisdom.

The journey for both the Buddhist practitioner and the Stoic begins with awareness. For the Buddhist, this is the practice of mindfulness (sati): a clear, non-judgmental observation of the mind's constant stream of thoughts, feelings, and sensations. Through this lens, one begins to see the impersonal, mechanical nature of craving and aversion—the automatic pull toward pleasure and the push against pain. Similarly, the Stoic path to Amor Fati requires a sharp self-awareness, a constant vigilance over one's own judgments. As Epictetus taught, "Men are disturbed not by things, but by the views which they take of them." This is the practice of separating an external event from our internal narrative about it. In both traditions, awareness creates a crucial space between stimulus and response. It is in this space that we realize our suffering is not caused by fate itself, but by our resistance to it—a resistance fueled by the very craving and aversion that Buddhism identifies as the root of dukkha.

This is where the Buddhist concept of basic goodness offers a transformative insight, turning mere acceptance into genuine love and compassion. Amor Fati asks us to not just bear what is necessary, but to love it. This is a radical and difficult proposition. How can one love sickness, loss, or failure? The Buddhist view suggests the gateway is through compassion for the self. If we understand, as the doctrine of Buddha-nature implies, that our craving for a different reality is not a moral failing but an innocent, deeply ingrained striving for happiness, we can stop fighting ourselves. We can meet our own resistance—our fear, our anger, our grief—with a gentle, compassionate understanding. This self-compassion is the seed of Amor Fati. By first loving the part of ourselves that struggles against fate, we can then extend that loving gaze to fate itself. The love in "love of fate" ceases to be a harsh command and becomes an an extension of the kindness we have learned to show our own hearts.

From this union of awareness and compassion, wisdom naturally arises. The wisdom of the Stoic is to live in accordance with nature, to align one's will with the rational order of the cosmos, thereby achieving a state of tranquility (apatheia). The wisdom of the Buddhist (prajñā) is the direct seeing of reality as it is: impermanent, interconnected, and empty of inherent self. While their metaphysical language differs, the practical result is the same: the cessation of the exhausting, self-imposed war against reality. When we stop struggling against the unchangeable, we are liberated. Amor Fati, then, becomes the ultimate expression of this wisdom. It is the joyful affirmation of life in its totality, not because we are blind to its pain, but because we have become wise enough to see the futility of resisting it and compassionate enough to embrace the entire, imperfect, and beautiful tapestry of our existence.

In conclusion, the Buddhist understanding of basic goodness provides the compassionate engine for the Stoic vehicle of Amor Fati. It gives us a method for transforming the friction of resistance into the fuel of acceptance. Through the clarity of awareness, we see the mechanics of our suffering. Through the warmth of compassion, we learn to hold that suffering with kindness, which blossoms into a genuine love for our entire experience. Finally, this practice culminates in the profound wisdom of letting go, of saying "yes" to the life that is ours. Together, these two great traditions show us that the path to peace is not found in changing our fate, but in learning to love it with all our hearts.

The Uncovering: A Meditation on Basic Goodness

This practice is not about becoming good, but of recognizing the goodness that is already present, like the clear sky that is always behind the clouds. Find a quiet place where you won't be disturbed for 10-15 minutes.

1. Settling the Body and Breath

Find a comfortable and dignified posture, either sitting on a cushion or in a chair with your feet flat on the floor. Let your back be straight but not rigid. Allow your hands to rest in your lap and gently close your eyes.

Bring your awareness to the physical sensations of your body. Feel the points of contact with the chair or cushion. Notice the feeling of the air on your skin.

Now, bring your attention to your breath. Don't try to change it. Simply notice the natural rhythm of your inhalation and exhalation. Feel the rise and fall of your chest or belly. Let the breath be your anchor, bringing you into the present moment. Stay here for a minute or two.

2. Watching the Clouds

As you sit, you will naturally notice the activity of your mind: thoughts, memories, plans, worries, and judgments.

Instead of getting caught in them, imagine these mental events are like clouds passing through a vast, open sky. Some are dark and stormy, others are light and wispy. Your job is not to chase them away or cling to them. Your only job is to observe them pass.

Notice the tendency to judge certain thoughts as "bad" or "negative." See if you can let go of that label. These are just clouds. They are not you, and they are not the sky. They are temporary weather patterns. Acknowledge them gently—"Ah, there is planning," "There is worry,"—and let them drift by.

3. Noticing the Sky

After watching the clouds for a few minutes, gently shift your perspective.

Ask yourself: What is it that is aware of these clouds?

There is the thought, and there is the awareness of the thought. There is the feeling, and the awareness of the feeling. This awareness is like the sky itself. The clouds pass through it, but they can never stain it, shrink it, or harm it. The sky is always there, open, clear, and spacious, no matter how turbulent the weather.

Rest in this awareness. Feel its qualities. It is not a "thing," but an open, knowing presence. It is naturally peaceful. It is accepting of whatever arises. This spacious, unchanging awareness is the foundation of your basic goodness. It has been here your entire life, holding every experience you've ever had.

4. The Compassionate Striving

Now, bring to mind one of the "clouds" you noticed earlier—perhaps a moment of craving, frustration, or anxiety.

Remember that this feeling, this cloud, is a form of energy. It's the expression of a deep, innocent, and fundamental wish to be happy and free from suffering. The strategy might be confused, but the underlying intention is compassionate.

As you rest in the sky of awareness, look at this cloud of craving or aversion with kindness. See it not as a flaw, but as a poignant expression of your own striving for well-being. Offer it a sense of gentle allowing. You might silently say to yourself, "This too is a search for happiness. It is okay." Feel a sense of warmth and tenderness for this part of yourself.

5. Concluding the Practice

Gently release the focus on any specific thought or feeling. Rest for a final minute in the simple, open awareness of the sky-like nature of your mind.

Slowly, bring your attention back to the feeling of your breath, and then to the sensations in your body. When you are ready, gently open your eyes.

Take a moment to notice how you feel. The goal isn't to feel a certain way, but simply to have touched, even for a moment, the peace and clarity that is your inherent nature.