The Pragmatic Path: Nagapriya on the True Value of Worldviews in Buddhist Practice

In the Fall 2026 issue of Tricycle: The Buddhist Review, author and teacher Nagapriya offers a timely reflection on the nature of belief and intellectual positioning within the framework of Buddhist practice. In a brief but poignant teaching, Nagapriya challenges the contemporary tendency to evaluate worldviews based on their philosophical sophistication or their ability to win an argument. Instead, he posits a radical, pragmatic alternative: a view should be judged solely by its utility in reducing human suffering.

For many practitioners, the study of Buddhism—or any philosophical system—often begins with an intellectual attraction to its ideas. We are drawn to concepts like emptiness, impermanence, or dependent origination because they feel intellectually stimulating or because they offer a coherent explanation for the complexity of existence. However, Nagapriya suggests that this intellectual pursuit can occasionally become a trap, leading us away from the core objective of the dharma. By placing too much weight on the "truth" of a philosophical proposition in a purely academic sense, we risk losing sight of the functional, therapeutic, and transformative goals that define the Buddha’s path.

According to Nagapriya, the value of a view is not intrinsic. It does not exist in a vacuum, nor is it validated by its complexity or its status as an objective fact of the universe. Rather, the value of any given perspective is contingent upon its practical impact on the individual’s mental state. Does this way of looking at the world help to diminish the fires of craving? Does it serve to clear away the fog of confusion? Does it act as a solvent for the persistent knots of attachment that define the human condition? If a view accomplishes these ends, it is a skillful and valuable tool. If it does not, or if it actively interferes with these goals, it is ultimately a distraction, regardless of how intellectually elegant it may appear.

This perspective aligns with one of the most famous and enigmatic aspects of the historical Buddha’s teaching style: his frequent refusal to answer metaphysical questions. Throughout the Pali Canon, the Buddha was often approached by interlocutors eager to engage in speculative debates about the nature of the cosmos, the existence of the soul, or the boundaries of the universe. Time and again, he remained silent or diverted the conversation.

Nagapriya frames this silence not as an evasion, but as a deliberate pedagogical choice. The Buddha understood that for the person suffering from the "arrow" of existence—the immediate experience of dissatisfaction, change, and loss—speculative philosophy is a luxury that offers no relief. If a person is wounded by a poisoned arrow, they do not need a lecture on the philosophy of metallurgy or the history of the arrow’s manufacture; they need the arrow removed and the wound treated. By prioritizing the alleviation of suffering over the satisfaction of intellectual curiosity, the Buddha established a precedent for a practice that is fundamentally oriented toward healing rather than theorizing.

The danger of becoming attached to one’s worldviews, even those that seem "spiritual" or "correct," is that these views can quickly become sources of pride and conflict. Nagapriya points out that when we hold our views too tightly, they cease to be instruments of liberation and instead become instruments of ego. When we use our beliefs to define our identity, we inevitably create a wall between ourselves and those who hold different views. This, in turn, fosters the very conditions—pride, clinging, and conflict—that the practice is meant to dismantle.

When a worldview leads to a hardened sense of "me" and "them," or when it gives rise to a sense of moral or intellectual superiority, it has ceased to be a vehicle for awakening. In such moments, the Buddhist practitioner is encouraged to let the view go, no matter how cherished or persuasive it may seem. This process of "letting go" is not an endorsement of nihilism or an abandonment of truth; it is a recognition that all conceptual frameworks are, in the end, rafts meant to carry us to the other shore. Once the shore is reached, the raft is no longer needed. To carry the raft on one’s back while walking on land would be an absurdity, yet this is precisely what we do when we cling to ideologies that no longer serve our practice.

This pragmatic approach to belief is a central theme in Nagapriya’s recent work, The Possibility of Amazement: Awakening the Five Spiritual Faculties, released earlier this year by Windhorse Publications. In the book, he explores how the cultivation of faith, energy, mindfulness, concentration, and wisdom—the five spiritual faculties—can be integrated into a life of depth and meaning. The teaching featured in Tricycle serves as a distillation of this broader project, emphasizing that the development of wisdom is not a process of accumulating more data or more sophisticated beliefs. Instead, it is a process of refining one’s perspective until it is sharp enough to cut through the delusions that cause us to suffer.

The challenge, as Nagapriya suggests, is to maintain a sense of "amazement" or wonder while simultaneously holding our views with a light touch. It is about staying open to the mystery of existence without feeling the need to pin it down with rigid, dogmatic definitions. By shifting the criteria of value from "persuasiveness" to "clarity and peace," the practitioner gains a newfound sense of freedom. We are no longer required to defend our worldviews against all comers. We are no longer burdened by the need to have a perfect answer for every question the world throws at us.

This perspective has significant implications for how we engage with the world beyond the meditation cushion. In an era marked by intense polarization and the constant clashing of ideologies, the invitation to prioritize peace and clarity over being "right" is a radical, counter-cultural act. It suggests that the most profound contribution we can make to a fractured world is not the propagation of our own specific, "correct" worldview, but the demonstration of a mind that is less prone to craving, less susceptible to confusion, and more deeply grounded in the reality of the present moment.

Ultimately, Nagapriya’s teaching serves as a reminder that the path is not about becoming a better philosopher; it is about becoming a freer human being. It encourages a kind of intellectual humility that recognizes the limits of our conceptual reach and the profound importance of our immediate experience. By constantly assessing whether our views are helping us move toward freedom or trapping us in more suffering, we can turn our intellectual life into a genuine practice.

As readers reflect on these words, the invitation is to look at their own deeply held beliefs—not to discard them, but to hold them up to the light of the dharma. Are these ideas bringing you closer to the clarity of the present, or are they keeping you tethered to the past and the future? Are they helping you let go, or are they tightening the grip of the ego? By asking these questions, we follow the path laid out by the Buddha, keeping our focus fixed on the only goal that truly matters: the reduction of suffering and the realization of peace.

This teaching, excerpted from The Possibility of Amazement, underscores the ongoing relevance of classical Buddhist insights in a modern context. It challenges the reader to move beyond the superficial comforts of ideological certainty and to embrace the more difficult, yet ultimately more rewarding, work of cultivating a mind that is truly at rest. For those who find themselves caught in the trap of endless intellectualizing, Nagapriya’s words offer a clear, calm, and practical way forward—a return to the simple, profound, and often silent work of waking up.