Chapter 13: Steady in Praise and Blame

Two Reviews in One Week

Aditi is thirty-five and, two years ago, opened a small restaurant with her husband. It has been hard work: long hours, small profits, constant worry. On Monday, a well-known food writer publishes a glowing review of the restaurant, calling Aditi's cooking "a quiet revelation". Bookings flood in. Aditi reads the review again and again, glowing with pride. For three days, she feels wonderful.

On Thursday, an online review appears from a customer who had a bad evening. It is harsh. It calls the food overpriced, the service slow and the atmosphere "pretentious". Aditi reads it at midnight and cannot sleep. She replays every word. By Friday morning, the glowing review seems to have vanished from her mind. All she can think about is the harsh one. She snaps at her staff and considers changing her whole menu.

On Saturday, during a quieter moment in the kitchen, her old cooking teacher, who has come to eat at the restaurant, finds her looking at her phone with a tight face. Aditi shows her both reviews. The teacher reads them and laughs gently. "On Monday you were a genius," she says. "On Thursday you were a fraud. You are the same cook. The food is the same food. Only the wind has changed."

Aditi's week is an example of something that happens to everyone, in many forms. We are praised and blamed, we gain and we lose, we are respected and dismissed, we feel pleasure and pain. And our moods often swing wildly with each change, as if we were leaves blown about by the wind. The Buddha described these changes as the eight worldly conditions, and he taught a way of staying steady in the middle of them. This chapter explores that teaching.

The Eight Winds

In two short neighbouring discourses in the Aṅguttara Nikāya, at numbers 8.5 and 8.6, the Buddha describes eight conditions that, he says, turn the world around, and that the world turns around. They come in four pairs: gain and loss, fame and disrepute, praise and blame, pleasure and pain.

Gain and loss refer to getting and losing things: money, possessions, opportunities. Fame and disrepute refer to our standing in the eyes of others: being well known and respected, or being ignored and looked down on. Praise and blame refer to what others say about us. Pleasure and pain refer to pleasant and painful experiences in body and mind. In later Buddhist traditions, these are sometimes called the eight worldly winds, because they blow us this way and that.

The Buddha points out, in my own paraphrase, that these eight conditions come to everyone, wise and unwise alike. Nobody can arrange a life with only gain, fame, praise and pleasure, and no loss, disrepute, blame or pain. The question is not whether the winds will blow, but how we respond to them.

In the second of the two discourses, the Buddha says that the untrained person, when gain comes, does not reflect that it is impermanent and subject to change. They are carried away by it. When loss comes, they are crushed by it. Their mind is taken over by the winds, rising with the good ones and falling with the bad ones. The trained person, when gain comes, reflects: this has arisen, but it is impermanent, it will change. When loss comes, they reflect the same. Their mind is not taken over. They do not welcome the pleasant winds too eagerly, and they do not resist the unpleasant ones too fiercely.

This teaching connects with the idea of impermanence from the third chapter. Each of the eight conditions is temporary. Praise fades and is forgotten. Blame, too, fades. Gain is spent or lost; loss is often recovered. Fame passes; disrepute is often forgotten. Pleasure and pain both change. When we see this clearly, we are less likely to be lifted too high or thrown too low.

It is interesting that the Buddha treated the pleasant winds as just as risky as the unpleasant ones. We usually think of loss, blame and pain as the problems, and gain, praise and pleasure as rewards. But the teaching suggests that being carried away by pleasant winds also unsettles the mind. A person lifted high by praise is set up for a hard fall when blame comes. A person who builds their happiness on gain is shaken by every loss. Steadiness in good times is, in a sense, preparation for steadiness in hard times.

Nobody Escapes Blame

The Dhammapada contains a story-verse that speaks with gentle humour about blame. According to the commentary, a man named Atula went with a group of friends to hear different monks teach. One monk sat in silence, and they complained that he said nothing. Another spoke at great length about the teaching, and they complained that he talked too much. A third spoke briefly, and they complained that he said too little. Finally, they went to the Buddha and complained about all of them.

The Buddha's reply is recorded in verses 227 and 228. In my own translation: "This is an old saying, Atula, not a new one: they blame the one who sits in silence, they blame the one who speaks a great deal, they blame even the one who speaks in moderation. There is nobody in the world who is not blamed. There never was, there never will be, and there is not now anyone who is only blamed, or only praised."

This verse is a wonderful relief for anyone who worries about criticism. It says, simply, that criticism is universal. Whatever we do, someone will criticize it. If we are quiet, we are blamed for being quiet. If we speak, we are blamed for speaking. If we find a middle way, someone will still find fault. And at the same time, nobody is only blamed. Everyone also receives praise from someone.

For Aditi, this verse speaks directly. If her food were simpler, someone would call it boring. If it were more elaborate, someone would call it pretentious. If it were exactly in the middle, someone would still complain. The harsh review was not a sign that she had failed. It was a sign that she was part of the world, in which everyone is both praised and blamed.

This does not mean that criticism is always meaningless, as we will see. But it means that criticism, on its own, is not proof that we are doing something wrong, and praise, on its own, is not proof that we are doing something right. Both are winds. Both pass.

Like a Solid Rock

Another verse of the Dhammapada, number 81, offers an image of steadiness in the face of these winds. In my own translation: "Just as a solid rock is not shaken by the wind, so the wise are not moved by praise and blame."

The image is simple and strong. A rock on a hillside stands in the wind. The wind blows from every direction, sometimes gently, sometimes in a storm. The rock does not move. It does not lean toward the pleasant breezes or flee from the harsh gales. It simply stays where it is.

It is important to understand what this image does and does not mean. A rock is not deaf to the wind. The wind still blows around it. The wise person still hears praise and blame, still feels pleasure and pain. What is different is that they are not moved by them, not pushed off their foundation. Their sense of what is right, their values and their basic steadiness of mind do not depend on which way the wind is blowing.

Where does such steadiness come from? In the Buddhist view, it comes partly from understanding: seeing that the winds are impermanent and universal. It comes partly from ethical conduct: a person who lives honestly and kindly has less reason to fear blame and less need for praise. And it comes partly from practice: training the mind, through reflection and meditation, to notice the pull of the winds and to stay centred.

For most of us, becoming a solid rock is a long journey. But even moving a little in that direction, being a bit less blown about by each review, each comment, each gain and loss, can bring great relief.

One way to begin is to notice the very first moment of being moved. When a message arrives with praise or criticism, there is often a tiny moment, a fraction of a second, before the mind rushes off into excitement or hurt. With practice, we can learn to catch that moment, take a breath and decide how to respond. The wind still arrives. But we are a little less quick to be blown away.

Equanimity Is Not Indifference

The quality that the Buddhist tradition associates with this steadiness is called upekkhā in Pali, usually translated as equanimity. It is the fourth of the divine abodes we have met in earlier chapters, alongside loving-kindness, compassion and sympathetic joy.

Equanimity means balance of mind. It is the ability to remain steady and clear in the face of changing conditions, neither clinging to the pleasant nor pushing away the unpleasant. It is the rock in the wind.

As we saw in the chapter on love, Buddhaghosa named a near enemy for each of the divine abodes, a quality that looks similar but is subtly different. The near enemy of equanimity, he suggested, is indifference: a cold, uncaring detachment that looks calm, but is really a way of not engaging. A person who says "I do not care what anyone thinks" may seem equanimous, but may actually be defending themselves by shutting others out.

True equanimity is warm, not cold. It is closely connected with the other divine abodes. A person with equanimity can still love, care, feel compassion and rejoice in others' happiness. They simply do not lose their balance when things go well or badly. In fact, equanimity is what allows love and compassion to last, because it prevents them from being swept away by every wind.

A traditional reflection used to develop equanimity reminds the practitioner that all beings are the owners of their own actions, and that their happiness and unhappiness depend on their own actions, not on our wishes. This reflection is not meant to make us stop caring. It is meant to help us care without being crushed, to do what we can for others while accepting that we cannot control everything that happens to them, or to ourselves.

Learning From the Wind

If we are not moved by praise and blame, does that mean we ignore what others say? No. Equanimity is not deafness. A wise person can still learn from both praise and blame.

The key is to separate the content of what is said from the emotional wind that comes with it. Aditi's harsh review was painful. But underneath the harsh words, there may have been something useful. Perhaps the service was slow that evening because a staff member was ill. Perhaps one dish really is overpriced. A steady mind can look at the review calmly and ask: is there anything here I can learn from? If so, she can use it. If not, she can let it go.

The same is true of praise. Praise feels wonderful, and it can tell us what we are doing well. But it can also make us complacent or anxious to keep pleasing. A steady mind can receive praise gratefully, learn from it and then let it go, without needing it to continue.

It also helps to consider the source. Feedback from people who know us well, understand our work and care about our growth is usually more valuable than the opinions of strangers or people with their own agendas. Not all winds carry equal weight. A steady person can give more attention to wise voices and less to noise.

And it helps to remember our own values. If we have a clear sense of what we are trying to do and why, praise and blame become information rather than verdicts. Aditi's teacher reminded her that she is the same cook, cooking the same food. Her purpose, to cook food she believes in for people who enjoy it, does not change with each review.

Some people find it helpful to keep a small private record of the values they are working by, written in their own words. When praise or blame arrives, they read it and ask: did I act according to these values? If the answer is yes, blame loses much of its sting, and praise becomes a pleasant extra rather than a necessity. If the answer is no, the blame may be pointing to something worth learning, and they can take it seriously without feeling destroyed.

When Blame Is Unjust

Some blame is not just a passing wind, but real injustice: false accusations, bullying, discrimination or attacks that cause real harm. Equanimity does not mean accepting such treatment without response.

A steady mind can actually be a great help in responding to injustice. When we are not overwhelmed by hurt and anger, we can think more clearly about what to do: whether to correct a false statement, seek support, report the behaviour or protect ourselves. The Buddha himself, according to traditional accounts, sometimes responded to false accusations calmly and clearly, and sometimes simply waited for the truth to become clear.

If you are being bullied, harassed or treated unfairly in a serious way, at work, at school, online or anywhere else, please do not simply try to endure it with equanimity. Seek support from people you trust and from the appropriate authorities or services. Equanimity can help you stay steady while you do this, but it is not a reason to accept harm.

It may also help to remember that injustice, too, is a wind. However strong it is now, it is not the whole of your life, and it does not define who you are. People who have endured unjust blame have often found that, over time, the truth became clearer, and that their steadiness during the storm was something they could be proud of.

It is also worth remembering that the people around us are blown by the same winds. A colleague who criticizes us harshly may be reacting to their own loss or fear. A friend who seeks praise constantly may be shaken by their own sense of disrepute. Seeing that everyone is in the same weather can soften our reactions to others, and make us more patient when they are being blown about.

Four Lives in the Wind

Matteo is fifty and has recently become head of a secondary school. He quickly discovers that every decision he makes is praised by some parents and criticized by others. When he changes the timetable, one group thanks him and another complains bitterly. At first, he swings between elation and despair with each message. Then a retired head teacher gives him the Atula verse, which she keeps above her desk. Matteo laughs and puts it above his own. He starts making decisions by asking what is best for the students, listening carefully to criticism but not being thrown by it. He says the job is still hard, but he sleeps much better.

Zara is twenty-one and writes and performs her own songs. When she posts a new song online, she watches the comments obsessively. A few kind comments make her ecstatic; a single cruel one ruins her week. A friend, who is a more experienced musician, tells her that she will never please everyone and should not try. Zara begins to limit how often she reads comments and to ask a few trusted friends for honest feedback instead. She notices that her songs become more personal and braver, because she is writing for the music rather than for the comments.

Hugo is seventy-six and was once a respected engineer, often consulted and praised. Since retiring, he has noticed that people no longer ask his opinion, and that younger relatives sometimes treat him as out of date. He feels the loss of status keenly. Reflecting on the eight worldly conditions, he recognizes that fame and disrepute, respect and neglect, are winds that come and go for everyone. He decides to stop measuring his worth by how much others consult him. Instead, he volunteers to teach a free class on basic repairs at the local library, where his knowledge is appreciated by people who need it. He says he feels more at peace than when he was at the height of his career.

Aditi, from the beginning of this chapter, thinks carefully about her teacher's words. She reads both reviews once more, calmly. She thanks the food writer politely and puts the glowing review away. She looks at the harsh review and finds one useful point: on busy evenings, the service has indeed been slow. She hires an extra waiter for weekends. She does not change her menu. Over the following months, more reviews appear, some glowing, some critical. Aditi reads them occasionally, learns from them when she can and then goes back to the kitchen. She says that the best thing she learned that week was that she is the same cook, whatever the wind is doing.

Matteo, Zara, Hugo and Aditi each found themselves blown by the eight winds: praise and blame, fame and disrepute, gain and loss. Each learned, in their own way, to stand a little more like a rock: still hearing the wind, still learning from it, but no longer pushed off their foundation.

Practical Steps

First, name the winds. When you feel lifted or crushed by something, ask which of the eight winds is blowing: gain or loss, fame or disrepute, praise or blame, pleasure or pain.

Second, remember impermanence. When a pleasant wind blows, remind yourself that it will change. When an unpleasant wind blows, remind yourself of the same.

Third, remember Atula. When you are criticized, remember that nobody in the world escapes blame, and nobody is only blamed.

Fourth, separate content from wind. Look calmly at praise and blame for anything you can learn. Use it, and let the rest go.

Fifth, choose your wise voices. Give more weight to the opinions of people who know you, understand your work and care about your growth.

Sixth, keep your purpose clear. Remind yourself of what you are trying to do and why, so that praise and blame become information rather than verdicts.

A Short Practice: The Weather Report

This practice takes a few minutes each evening for a week. It helps you notice how the eight winds affect you, and to stay steadier in them.

Each evening, take a page in your notebook and write a short "weather report" for the day. Under four headings, gain and loss, fame and disrepute, praise and blame, and pleasure and pain, write down any winds that blew today. For example: "Praise: my colleague thanked me for my help. Blame: a customer complained. Pleasure: a good lunch. Pain: a headache in the afternoon."

Next to each wind, write a word or two about how strongly it moved you. Did it lift you very high or throw you very low? Or did you notice it and stay fairly steady?

Then, for each wind, write a short reflection: "This came, and it will pass." Read your report back and notice how many different winds blew in a single day, and how many of them you have already partly forgotten.

At the end of the week, read all seven reports. Notice which winds move you most strongly. Notice how the winds changed from day to day. Many people find that this practice gives them a sense of perspective: no single wind is the whole story of their lives.

You may wish to finish each evening by silently repeating the verse of the rock: "Just as a solid rock is not shaken by the wind, so may I not be moved by praise and blame." Let it be a gentle intention, not a demand.

Questions People Often Ask

"Isn't it natural to enjoy praise and dislike blame?" Yes, completely. The teaching does not ask you to stop enjoying praise or to like blame. It asks you to notice how much these winds move you, and to stay a little steadier, so that your well-being does not depend entirely on what others say. You can enjoy praise, learn from blame and still keep your balance.

"Does equanimity mean I should not care about success?" No. You can care about doing good work and work hard at it. Equanimity simply means that you do not let your peace of mind depend completely on success or failure, which are always partly outside your control. Many people find that equanimity actually helps them work better, because they are less anxious about results.

"How do I stay steady when criticism is very hurtful?" Very hurtful criticism can shake anyone, and it is natural to feel upset. It may help to give yourself time before responding, to talk with someone you trust, to look for anything you can learn and to remember that criticism, however strong, is not the whole truth about you. If criticism becomes bullying or harassment, please seek support from the appropriate people or services.

Chapter Summary

In Aṅguttara Nikāya 8.5 and 8.6, the Buddha described eight worldly conditions that come to everyone: gain and loss, fame and disrepute, praise and blame, pleasure and pain. The untrained person is carried away by them; the trained person reflects that each is impermanent and does not let the mind be taken over. In Dhammapada verses 227 and 228, the Buddha tells Atula that people blame the silent, the talkative and the moderate alike, and that nobody is ever only blamed or only praised.

Dhammapada verse 81 compares the wise to a solid rock that the wind cannot shake. This steadiness is equanimity, upekkhā, which is warm, not cold; its near enemy is indifference. A steady mind can still learn from praise and blame, weigh the source and keep its purpose clear. Equanimity does not mean accepting unjust treatment; it can help us respond to it wisely.

In the next chapter, we gather some simple daily practices for letting go a little, every day.