In the chapter on the Surangama Sutra, "The Bodhisattva Who Hears the Cries of the World", the sutra describes how Avalokiteshvara uses the element of sound as a way to contemplate a space where there is no abiding in sound. It sounds like (pardon the pun) a tricky concept, but I understand it to mean that a person using this method tries to contemplate the entire totality of sound, so that the sound just reflects on the mind, as in a mirror. Avalokiteshvara describes the different levels of this practice. First comes "redirecting my hearing" so that the sound appears inward (as part of the mind) rather than as a distinct property of an object. To take a simple example, if I close my eyes and manage to get into a relaxed state, I might get to a point where the sounds around me no longer link to a distinct visual object or concept. The sound is no longer automatically associated with a perceived object, such as a car or a plane. I believe this is what the chapter refers to when it talks about 'turning sound inward'. The sound is heard for 'what it is' pure and simple, without being impurely linked to visual objects or generic concepts that arise in mind.
That sounds like a simple instruction, but most likely, it is not so easy to get. Part of the reason is that people crave objects with which to link sounds. I am reminded of an example of someone I met before who was a big lover of classic rock music. When I asked him whether he was into buying CDs, he quipped that it no longer gives him pleasure to simply 'listen to' music, because he is so used to watching music concerts in a DVD form. Here is an example of where the purity of music is compromised by the desire to associate music with an image. But Avalokiteshvara's example goes further than this, by suggesting that all sounds come from the same source, and to try to contemplate sound in the context of that source.
Once there is no longer any attachment to a perceived object or concept associated with the sound, sounds become "stilled" (p.234) and "both sounds and silence cease to arise." (ibid) At this stage, I would say that the mind is reaching a point of equanimity, and is no longer even craving or liking some sounds more than others. It has stopped discriminating certain kinds of sounds as 'good' or 'bad' and seeking some sounds over others. Hence, there is neither a clinging to sound nor a clinging to silence: they can be said to be one unified, seamless experience. "Sounds" and "silence" don't 'grab' my attention anymore, so we can say that they cease to arise.
Then, Avalokiteshvara continues, "as I gradually progressed, what I heard and my awareness of what I heard came to an end." (ibid) If I understand this correctly, this is the point where I am no longer discriminating a self that hears the sound (let's say, a subjective awareness) from a distinct object of sound. This is subtly different from the previous level because in the former, there may still be traces of "I am hearing the sound" rather than sound and hearer are a single experience. At this point of non-differentiating subject and object, the 'awareness' of starts to yield to a completely unified state of sound and hearer.
In the next stage described by Avalokiteshvara, we heard that "My awareness and the objects of my awareness were emptied, and when that process of emptying my awareness was wholly complete, then even that emptying and what had been emptied vanished." (ibid). This emptying seems to be a process where, again, subject and object are seen as impermanent and not discrete things. Perhaps it might even be alluding to the Buddhist concept of emptiness as conditioned phenomena, where sound and hearer need to exist simultaneously with a series of interdependent conditions. Thus even sound/silence has no 'foundation' in a fundamental, shared substance called 'mind'. Instead, their forms are empty of underlying permanent substance or essence. The last step, however, is that even that emptying process ("that emptying and what had been emptied") vanishes. Now what could this mean? When I first read it, I thought perhaps it means that even the concept of 'emptying' is abandoned, and the sounds can return to their associated objects without a confusion of sound with other senses. When I read it a second time now, the thought occurs to me that even when there is a process of 'emptiness' there is still lurking in the background something that is 'emptying' and 'emptied'...a dual self, for example. But even this 'emptying' self dissolves, in the recognition that it is not permanent or distinct in any way.
All of this might sound a bit abstract at first. But this chapter raises interesting ontological issues for me with regards to the role of sound in establishing or potentially challenging identity. The most concrete way I can think of this would be to examine the process that the mind undergoes when there is mindful listening happening. What, for example,is the real difference between 'external' and 'internal' hearing, as this chapter relates? I think perhaps it means that a truly authentic listening does not cling to the objects that arise in mind when there are sounds. If, for example, I am listening to someone talk and I attach to many thoughts arising in mind, am I listening to the person in that moment? Quite often, this is not the case, because one is only using pre-existing concepts arising in mind to relate to what is being heard now. But if I were to disengage from the ''objects" that sound produces in mind and hear the sound as is (without emotional or mental projection), I would be truly listening. Why? I think, because I am no longer confusing the sounds themselves for concepts to which they associate in mind. I also start to lose the sense that there is a solid "I" who listens to "the Other". Compassion can arise when I treat the whole experience as my mind, rather than making a false distinction between the 'object' and the subject.
Surangama Sutra: A New Translation Buddhist Text Translation Society
No comments:
Post a Comment