Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Self Protection

  In his book What the Buddha Taught, Walpola Rahula remarks:
 

Two ideas are psychologically deep-rooted in man: self-protection and self-preservation. For self-protection man has created God, on whom he depends for his own protection, safety and security, just as a child depends on its parent. For self-preservation man has conceived the idea of an immortal Soul, or Atman, which will lie eternally. (p.51)

I think this is a powerful statement about how people tend to cling to notions of self as a way of protecting something that seems precious or inviolable. But what  is it exactly that is so cherished that it needs this much protection? One of the analogies I read about is that of the fragrance of a rose. When you are close to a rose (or any other flower), you get this vague essence that travels around the flower, but you can't quite pin down where it is coming from. Similarly, there is this vague sense of I that travels around like a shadow. And it's hard to pin down because, like any other fragrance, one can easily become accustomed to its presence and forget that it is even there.
    If I go the other way around it and start to see that the things around me are only aggregates (that is, lacking an essential, fixed self), would that be any consolation for me?  It might be, but the dilemma is that the self never dies that quickly or easily. I am thinking of an example of a great Buddhist master once facetiously asked the student: "Are you attached to your body?" When the student replied No, he isn't, the Master then asked, "Is it okay if I then take your arm away from you?"  In this story, the example tries to show how we might think that we have no strong attachment to a concept of self, but then something comes up which triggers a knee-jerk reaction. At that point, the habits are stronger than mindful attention, and one simply succumbs to the reaction of fear.
    Does this mean that I should simply let go of all responsibility, because there is no guiding essence of self that defines who I am? Well, that would be committing the error of nihilism, at least according to the teachers of the Middle Path in Buddhism. A different way might be to say that it's only through a vigilance in the present that one's true responsibilities become evident. It's not a specific self that is being served in the midst of those responsibilities but, rather, a kind of principle of benevolence and wisdom. When my mind is clear and not clinging to narrow sense of self, then there is more space to really act according to the present needs, and not according to protecting the self.

Rahula, Walpola (1959), What the Buddha Taught. New York: Grove Press.

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