Don't wait in ambush.

Antlion larva – photo by Trevor Jinks

          Antlions are worldwide in distribution and well known for the predatory habits of their larvae. Many species dig funnel-shaped sandy pits and hide at the bottom to trap passing insects. The walls of the pit are steep, and any crawling bug that tries to scramble out is thwarted by the loose sand that provides no foothold. To further hamper its efforts at escape, the antlion tosses up grains of sand that cause little landslides. Once the insect slips to the bottom of the trap, it is seized by the lurking antlion. When thoughts of revenge fill the minds of humans, we dig the same kind of trap and wait patiently to strike. An opportunity comes when we catch the target at a disadvantage, and we relish the feeling of having power over them. We feel a surge of energy when we repay someone for the pain we think they've caused us. Yet the sand we throw to bring them down falls on us too. Though we may feel a brief sense of self-satisfaction, it is soon replaced by the worry of retaliation. Revenge, we discover, doesn't recreate the past into something more palatable. Instead it keeps us locked into a cycle of misery. Rather than giving such thoughts free rein, we can explore whether a heart with room for forgiveness also has infinite space for joy.

While we intended to undermine the other person, we’ve distorted the situation so much that we fail to recognize we have given them more power over us than ever.
~ Traleg Kyabgon

More information on the thirty-second slogan can be found here. 

Slogan Thirty-two

Don’t wait in ambush.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            What normally happens when we feel insulted or slighted by another person? While we nurse our bruised egos, we cling to our grudges and resentments as elaborate plans are made for revenge. We wait patiently, gathering information that could be damaging, then attack unexpectedly when that person is vulnerable. Meanwhile, we lose the opportunity for spiritual practice and forget to enjoy the present moment in which we live. Enormous amounts of time and energy are wasted as we lurk and scheme instead of using these resources in more constructive ways. Pema Chodron describes such retaliation as the path of a coward, not the path of a warrior. A spiritual warrior would be willing to listen and speak with an open heart.

Photo: A ladybug watches for aphids on an Eastern black nightshade.

            I am almost convinced a Southern woman came up with the expression “revenge is a dish best served cold.” The Deep South has a tradition of being polite (while avoiding the truth), which can only lead to pretense. This form of “nice” can become a sneaky way to cover up one’s ulterior motives. I live next door to a city baseball park and have to contend with noise, crowds, litter and parking problems six months out of the year. One season I noticed a field manager had gotten in the daily habit of parking his truck on the side of the street by my home. From my kitchen window, I watched him take frequent cigarette breaks in his truck (there was a “no smoking” policy at the park). Instead of leaving the butts in his ashtray, he would flick them out the window into my yard. After a few dozen had collected there, I got angry. Rather than confront him directly with a request to stop, I asked him, “Do you know who’s been leaving all these cigarette butts here?” He responded that he had no idea. So while he was busy at the field, I slipped outside with my dustpan, swept them all up and dumped them in the back of his very clean truck. Yet I never felt any real satisfaction afterward and often worried about payback from him. Bent on revenge, I failed to see my resentment kept me stuck in a cycle of misery. Respectful and honest communication would have likely achieved what I wanted but failed to receive.