Tonglen — tong (giving) and len (taking) — is a Tibetan compassion practice that inverts the ordinary direction of self-protection. On the in-breath, the practitioner takes in the suffering of others; on the out-breath, sends out relief, warmth, and whatever they have that is good.

It runs directly against instinct, which is the point. Every ordinary impulse is to take in the pleasant and expel the unpleasant, and tonglen trains the reverse until the reversal stops feeling like a sacrifice.

Where it comes from #

Tonglen belongs to lojong, “mind training,” a body of practice brought to Tibet by Atisha in the eleventh century and transmitted through the Kadam school.

The root text is the Seven Points of Mind Training, attributed to Chekawa Yeshe Dorje (1102–1176), organised around fifty-nine aphorisms — terse, memorable, and frequently uncomfortable. Among them:

Drive all blames into one. Be grateful to everyone. When the world is filled with evil, transform all mishaps into the path of bodhi. Train in the three difficulties. Don’t be so predictable.

Chekawa is said to have kept the practice secret until he found it cured a group of lepers, after which he taught it openly.

The theoretical basis is Shantideva’s argument in the Bodhicaryavatara for equalising and exchanging self and other: the division between my suffering and yours is not established in reality — there is no aggregate self that experiences a body’s suffering collectively — so the special urgency attached to one’s own is a habit rather than a justified priority.

Tonglen is that argument turned into a breathing practice.

The practice #

Preliminary #

Sit and settle. Traditional instruction begins with a brief period of resting the mind in openness, sometimes called “flashing on absolute bodhicitta” — a moment of not fixating, before the visualisation begins.

The rhythm #

In-breath: breathe in the other’s suffering. It is visualised as dark, hot, heavy, thick — smoke, soot, tar. Take it in fully, without flinching or diluting it.

Out-breath: breathe out relief, spaciousness, warmth, healing. Visualised as light, cool, clear, bright.

The visualisation matters less than the willingness. Some practitioners work with sensation rather than imagery.

The sequence #

As with metta, the practice extends progressively.

  1. Begin with yourself, or with someone for whom compassion arises easily. Some teachers start with a moment of one’s own present discomfort.
  2. A specific person who is suffering. Concrete and particular is better than general.
  3. Widen: everyone in the same situation as that person. Everyone suffering in that way anywhere.
  4. All beings, without distinction — including those one dislikes, and including those causing the suffering.

The last extension is the hard one and is not optional in the traditional presentation.

On the spot #

The form most modern teachers emphasise, and the one with the most practical value: tonglen done in the moment, without formal sitting.

You notice pain — your own or someone else’s. Instead of the reflex of pushing it away, you breathe it in, and breathe out relief. Pema Chödrön’s version extends this: when you feel your own suffering, breathe it in on behalf of everyone who feels the same thing at this moment, and breathe out relief for all of them.

This converts a difficulty from a private problem into a connection, which is the whole mechanism.

What it is for #

It reverses the reflex. The habit of pulling in the pleasant and pushing away the unpleasant is the operational form of craving and aversion. Tonglen drills the reverse until the automatic movement loosens.

It makes suffering usable. The practitioner’s own pain becomes the occasion for practice rather than an interruption of it — which is a genuine shift in the relationship to difficulty.

It dissolves the boundary. The self/other division is not merely contemplated but repeatedly acted against.

It is specific about compassion. Warm feelings towards suffering in the abstract are easy. Tonglen requires taking in a particular person’s particular pain, which is harder and more honest.

The objections #

Three are worth taking seriously, because the practice attracts them.

“Am I taking on their suffering?” No — not in the sense of a transfer. The practice is training the practitioner’s mind, not performing an operation on the world. Traditional accounts do include stories of masters taking on others’ illness, and these are exceptional claims about exceptional people, not the ordinary rationale. A practitioner who believes they are removing another’s cancer by breathing has misunderstood the practice.

“Isn’t this harmful for me?” This is the most common modern concern, and it deserves a careful answer. The traditional teachers are clear that tonglen is not absorption of harm: what is taken in is dissolved in the openness of the mind’s nature, not stored. The practice is meant to expand capacity rather than to fill a container.

That said, the concern is not baseless. For people with trauma histories, with strong tendencies to over-responsibility, or in acute distress, taking in dark heavy suffering on the breath can be destabilising. Several teachers now recommend beginning with self-directed tonglen, keeping sessions short, and stopping if the practice produces heaviness that persists after it. See When Meditation Is Difficult.

“Isn’t it a substitute for helping?” It would be, if it replaced action. The lojong tradition places it inside a framework of bodhisattva conduct in which the six perfections — beginning with actual generosity — are the point. Chekawa’s aphorisms are largely about conduct, not visualisation.

Tonglen and metta #

They are complementary and not interchangeable.

Metta cultivates the wish that beings be happy, works by repeated intention, and is generally settling. It builds a reservoir.

Tonglen engages suffering directly, works by deliberate contact with what is unpleasant, and is generally not settling. It builds capacity.

Many teachers recommend establishing metta first. A practitioner with no reservoir of goodwill who begins by breathing in the world’s pain is likely to find it overwhelming rather than transforming.

Common questions #

Do I have to visualise smoke and light? No. The imagery is conventional and can be replaced with felt sense, texture, or nothing at all. What is required is the willingness on the in-breath.

Can I do tonglen for someone who has harmed me? In the traditional sequence, eventually yes, and it is one of the practice’s stated purposes. Not at the start, and not if it produces self-blame or a sense of obligation to excuse harm. Compassion for someone does not require accepting what they did.

Can I do it for myself? Yes, and several contemporary teachers treat self-tonglen as the proper starting point, particularly for people who are harsh with themselves.

How long should a session be? Short is fine — five to ten minutes. This is not a practice that rewards grinding.

Is this practice only Tibetan? Tonglen specifically is Tibetan. The underlying move — exchanging self and other — is Shantideva’s, and therefore Indian Mahayana, and has analogues in other traditions’ compassion practices.

Sources & further reading #

Pema Chödrön, Start Where You Are (Shambhala, 1994) — the lojong slogans and tonglen for a modern audience; the best entry point. Chögyam Trungpa, Training the Mind and Cultivating Loving-Kindness (Shambhala, 1993) — a commentary on the fifty-nine slogans. Shantideva, The Way of the Bodhisattva, trans. Padmakara Translation Group (Shambhala, rev. ed. 2006), ch. 8 — the argument for exchanging self and other. Geshe Jampa Tegchok, Transforming Adversity into Joy and Courage (Snow Lion, 2005) — a traditional Geluk commentary on the Seven Points. Bhikkhu Analayo, Compassion and Emptiness in Early Buddhist Meditation (Windhorse, 2015) — for comparison with the early tradition.