Anatomy of Kindness

 In my research on a possible upcoming book about Loving Kindness practice, I came across Kevin Griffin's book Living Kindness. In fact, I read this book before, but I believe it's one of my favorite treatments of the subject. Rather than seeing loving kindness as some kind of touchy feely prayer that elevates a person to a blissful state, Griffin grounds his ideas of loving kindness in real lived experience, without sentimentalizing it by making it only a fanciful thought. In fact, he provides many examples that show the difficulties that many people face when trying to extend loving kindness to all beings everywhere including those we have difficulties with.

  During my walk home yesterday, I asked myself, what makes for kindness exactly? Being an analytical sort, I am naturally one to try to break down something into discrete parts. I believe these parts could be described as "respect for complexity" "openness", "curiosity", "trust", and "humility". To summarize these points:

1) Respect for complexity: rather than concluding that something is the result of one thing (which usually leads to an attitude of blame) or results in one thing (which usually entails regret), looking at things with kindness means taking a more holistic approach and seeing that all results from interconnected and complex situations. In other words, a kind mindset steers clear of dualistic or hard-lined thinking, opting for a softer and more flexible approach to viewing situations

2) Openness entails an ability to see and feel things the way they really seem and feel, as opposed to trying to block out painful emotions. This may seem antithetical to kindness, but it seems that being kind requires tolerating difficult emotions and placing a certain kind of embrace around them so that we feel that they are tolerated. A soft openness, however, also suggests not attaching too much to one emotion or another--that is, to see that emotions are not who we are but rather they sit within us

3) Curiosity entails the desire to understand--to really understand the why without going to a place of labeling or condemning something. Curiosity continues openness with a state of inquiry into the why that does not attempt to change it into something else. Both openness and curiosity pertain to a sense of acceptance but also of wanting to know more and how things connect

4) Trust--trust means that we can be ok with uncertainty and allow that whatever is happening does come together even if it hardly makes sense in the beginning. A trusting mindset is one of faith in mind, that we are more than the sum of our identities, roles, etc.

When I put these elements together, I may get something close to kindness, although it's important to really feel a sense of optimistic and warm beholding, rather than treating these as neutral. Kindness is an effort in itself to see things in a way that we appreciate who we are and what we contribute as well as others around us.

The Hairnet

 “It is like the dim-eyed ones who seeing a hairnet exclaim to one another: “It is wonderful! Look, Honorable sirs, it is wonderful!” But the hairnet has never existed; in fact; it is neither an entity, nor a non-entity, for it has both been seen and has not been seen. In the same manner those whose minds have been addicted to the discriminations of the erroneous views cherished by the philosophers which are given over to the unrealistic views of being and non-being, will contradict the good Dharma and will end in the destruction of themselves and others.

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 7). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

Hairnets are not likely coveted things in any culture, so why would Buddha use the analogy of the hairnet? I think the hairnet represents anything that is taken to be precious or profound, but is in fact very mundane and everyday, even to the point where is hardly exists. A hairnet is quite thin, in fact, and it takes the shape of whatever hair it is bundling or covering. I also wonder if perhaps hair is a symbol of lust, in the sense that to contain hair is to contain a source of allure or desire, which monks would have avoided by shaving their heads altogether. 

The hairnet's delicate appearance also makes for a good study of existence and non-existence. When we look closely at any kind of net, we see that most of it is composed of empty space. Can you imagine that the majority of what you see around you constitutes mostly empty space? Rather than feeling overwhelmed by the solidness of crowds, we can reflect on the delicacy of appearances and how they are really only passing reflections. In this way, there is really no conflict.

An experiment that you can try on a crowded public space, is to take a look at things that seem overwhelming, such as human feelings, body language and gestures--and then slowly break down what we are seeing into perceptions, thoughts, sensations (within the body) and interpretations (what we think is happening). When these are all broken down, we realize that it's a construction that we make with our minds. The kinds of judgments we make about ourselves and others is not as "real" as we may imagine. Like the hairnet, we are dealing with things that have so much fragility because they are halting appearances that we construct together.

So, we can try experimenting with how much the things around us are really monolithic things, and how much they are really constituted by faculties of mind.

On "Flow"

  The animated movie "Flow" concerns the adventures of a cat and his friends as they struggle to survive a flood. From the beginning of the movie, we find this beautiful small cat enjoying his solitude, only to have his own fortress engulfed in water. He is forced to depend upon other living creatures, including a capybara, a water bird, a lemur and a few dogs. 

    This movie was moving to me because I felt connected with these animals, even when their communication was not in any language that could be put into words. The story itself reminded me that most of our language happens on a nonverbal level, taking the form of gestures, actions and intimations. As the title of the movie suggests, all of our actions, hopes, intentions, are taking part in a continuous river that always threatens to engulf us, as does happen when the cat frequently submerges himself in deep waters, only to be saved by some force of nature or graceful act from other species. Yet, somehow "life goes on" as they say, and more than anything, this cat even willfully submerges itself in water, almost as though it were experimenting with how long it can stay submerged without struggling to get back to the boat from which it has taken refuge. This is something like what we do when we meditate: how long can I bear the leg pain, the itchiness, the drowsiness and discomfort? Maybe I can learn to catch a few fish instead of catching "Z's"!

     Flow is also an expression that denotes a state of vulnerable allowing. Like the cat, I feel myself oscillating between states of fear (wanting to protect myself, my likes and solitude) and states of flow: wanting to keep a part of myself separate in order to salvage my existence (like that tiny ball of a lifeboat that floats around throughout the movie), while sometimes finding myself letting go into the flow of experience. I don't think it's wrong to be afraid, but at the same time the beauty of this movie comes from this cat's brave acts of gradual trust: trusting the dog that gobbles all its fish, the ways of the other animals on the boat, and the ability to co-exist with them.

    I highly doubt that anybody can "go with the flow" on their own or out of their own choosing. The flood, in fact, seems to symbolize how something greater than all of us has to sweep us away from ourselves before we can truly experience flow. That "something" might be a huge loss or a yielding to something mysterious or bigger than us, and it can also be a big question mark that we wrestle with and can't solve or understand. But the point is it can't really come from self-attachment. It has to be allowing something bigger to take over. So, when we talk about going with the flow, we need not try to divest ourselves of anything. The best way is to have faith and trust that something is already unfolding the way it is meant to, and to enjoy the ride as much as we can.

Real Presence as Antidote

 In the same way, the ignorant and simple-minded who are favorably influenced by the erroneous views of the philosophers do not recognize that the views that are influencing them are only dream-like ideas originating in the mind itself, and consequently they are held fast by their notions of oneness and otherness, of being and non-being. It is like a painter’s canvas on which the ignorant imagine they see the elevations and depressions of mountains and valleys. 

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 6). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

When we interact with the dreamlike ideas of the mind, are we supposed to behave ethically towards them, or is the precepts not that important? I have been thinking about this since Saturday's class. One conclusion that seems clear to me is that, indeed, anything we do that harms others is harmful to the mind itself. For instance, when a person has a fit of anger, they are bound to feel regret even if the angry thought wasn't fully expressed. This is because they know that anger is based on a fundamental delusion of self as separate from others. As one participant had explained in our Introduction to Meditation workshop today, nobody ever "makes" a person angry (or even happy, for that matter) since we interpret other people's behavior through our own lenses and perceptions.  By simply letting go of the dualistic notion of self and other, we can see that harming others is no different from harming ourselves. So, it is indeed important to be ethical. After all, wouldn't harming others be like dropping bricks on our own feet? 

Concepts such as being and non being, oneness and otherness, etc. are all based on a view of the self that is founded on duality. All these concepts are ultimately the mind's projections. Now we know this, but do we really know it fully, deeply and with our hearts? I think the important thing is to be present in every situation and to treat this moment as the only moment there is. In doing this, we cut away our comparisons, likes and dislikes, and learn to fully accept this moment as the totality of our mind and awareness, rather than trying to identify with only one tiny piece of the canvas as ourselves. This also means that every thought, no matter good or bad, can be accepted on equal terms. We don't say one thought is better than another, only that one is maybe more useful and beneficial. That is why we need to be careful not to reject certain ideas or thoughts, since they are all ultimately only projections coming from the same awareness. To cast judgment on one of those thoughts is almost like the left hand slapping the right. What is the point if they come from the same source?

A City in the Clouds

“It is like the city of the Gandharvas which the unwitting take to be a real city when in fact it is not so. The city appears as in a vision owing to their attachment to the memory of a city preserved in the mind as a seed; the city can thus be said to be both existent and non-existent. In the same way, clinging to the memory of erroneous speculations and doctrines accumulated since beginning-less time, they hold fast to such ideas as oneness and otherness, being and non-being, and their thoughts are not at all clear as to what after all is only seen of the mind. It is like a man dreaming in his sleep of a country that seems to be filled with various men, women, elephants, horses, cars, pedestrians, villages, towns, hamlets, cows, buffalos, mansions, woods, mountains, rivers and lakes, and who moves about in that city until he is awakened."

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 6). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

What is this city of Gandharvas that is described in the Lankavatara Sutra? I think it must be a very strange place indeed, something like a nostalgic place or a golden age. Most people have some place in their mind where they feel innocent and can go back to it when they feel stressed. But the point is that if we are not careful, we will cling to the memory and take it as something substantial, like a city that never ends.

Non existent means the city does not really exist as something separate from our perceptions of it. Yet, we can still call something existent because it lives within our mind. We still function as though it were real, and as long as we take it as real, we will always create a separate sense of self that moves within it.

I once heard a story about a man who divorced his wife because she became jealous of his video game activity and decided to "murder" him online--meaning kill off his character in an online game. The point is that the man took his image of himself and the "world" he lived in to be so real that he couldn't separate from it. He could not even tell that the body and image he created and "inhabited" in this game was just that: a series of concocted images that become habits as they are enforced within the mind over time. Had the man realized that he was only in a dream, he could loosen up a bit and forgive his wife for "killing" him, knowing that his body and all he takes to be "him" are only figments of the imagination.

To move about in this city--is this delusion? If we know we are in a dream-like place, we can function perfectly fine in the imaginary city, to the point where we are no longer bothered by the fact that it's illusory. What we do in that dream does matter. For instance, if we resists what happens within the dream, we only reinforce the sense of duality that gets us in delusion in the first place. When we stop resisting, we see that all the walls in the dream are merely projections of mind--not even a my mind, it's just ripples and effects. 

So, it is definitely important that we behave well within this dream: follow precepts and try to improve. But at the end of the day, there is no I that is improved. We are only living the dream and enjoying the scenery floating by like a city in the clouds.

Compassion and Empty Void

 “Mahamati, since the ignorant and simple-minded, not knowing that the world is only something seen of the mind itself, cling to the multitudinous-ness of external objects, cling to the notions of beings and non-being, oneness and otherness, both-ness and non-both-ness, existence and non-existence eternity and non-eternity, and think that they have a self-nature of their own, and all of which rises from the discriminations of the mind and is perpetuated by habit-energy, and from which they are given over to false imagination. It is all like a mirage in which springs of water are seen as if they were real. They are imagined by animals who, made thirsty by the heat of the season, run after them. Animals not knowing that the springs are merely hallucinations of their own minds, do not realize that there are no such springs."

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 5). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

It's very easy to mistakenly think that practice is about realization of "nothingness" or a kind of "empty void", which is imagined as some kind of literal "no thing"--perhaps an empty space or an empty sky. The problem here is that of subtly separating the concept of emptiness from the very forms where emptiness manifests. This can create an overly detached or nihilistic attitude which feeds into a habit energy, perhaps something akin to ennui or boredom. When practitioners become bored in meditation or experience dryness, most likely it is because they have created a kind of inert "thing" out of the concept of emptiness, or are even just lacking attention to the method. This is a sign of laxity, but it can be easily corrected through attention to all the elements of experience. Practice is like a mirror. We have to keep shining the mirror as much as possible on all things, illuminating them equally with a kind of equanimity. If we don't do so, we fail to recognize the changing and impermanent qualities of mind, which then puts us into a torpor state.

The mirage that is described in this sutra is taking something to be real that is only a construction of the mind. When we let go of even such things and don't take them to be concrete realities, then we have this freedom for the mind to move in infinite directions, because it's no longer attached to any particular thought. A mind that doesn't stick to anything also doesn't create the illusion of something existing "out there", even if it is something called "emptiness" or "spirit". The important point is to try to directly observe things as the operations of mind, such as when sensations are grouped into perceptions, perceptions become thoughts, and thoughts lead to decisions. This is a kind of subtle awareness that I have to admit I have only rarely achieved in my life.

The mirage metaphor extends the dream metaphor, by adding the qualities of heat and thirst, which often accompany a frenzied state of desire or greed. This is an apt metaphor to describe the twin problems of a) taking something we desire to be real, when it's not so substantial; b) moving toward it in expectation, only to be disappointed. 

Practice needs to be sustained through a continuous checking in with our mind and even with our body. With subtle vexations comes a sense of an object that I want to avoid or surmount, which then leads to discontent and agitation. Then the question of , where is mind now? Mind is not those vexations, so why are we so closely identifying with them? Why is the mind narrowing toward a concept or object, as though the other phenomena were not the mind? When the mind is able to embrace everything that comes up with an attitude of not seeking it, clinging to it or rejecting it, then true peace and equanimity naturally arises. We need to let go of even the concept of letting go, since that will also ensnare us.

On Precepts and Emotions

 We had a discussion about precepts in our Buddhist academy class today. I have been thinking since then about the notion of using the precepts to "reflect on myself" as opposed to using them to "judge others" and their practice (or karma). It seems that in most religious traditions, people have had a problem when they turn otherwise discretionary precepts into hard commandments, and then use these commandments to persecute or judge those around them. From a Chan perspective, I would say that whenever we judge others, we are really judging ourselves, since everything is of the mind. When we create an attitude of negative energy about a person, we are really attacking ourselves, because that person we see is a manifestation our own mental energy.

   To reverse this tendency, I propose two options. One is that, when we feel disappointed in a person or an outcome, we can change the energy of anger into a cooler and calmer energy, by using the method of turning toward cause and conditions and then feeling the sadness of disappointed outcomes.  I consider sadness and regret to be the flipside of anger, in the sense that the former often come before the energy of anger rears its head. The student whom I was tutoring tonight shared with me how disappointed she felt when she got an A in a sewing assignment, only to find that her second professor docking her grade down due to bell curving. It would be easy to go from feeling hurt and disappointed to feeling the "injustice" and "unfairness" of getting a lowered grade due to some administrative gaffe. However, my student later concluded that life isn't always fair, and this seemed to have given her greater room to grieve and at least accept the possibility that she would be ok no matter what. 

In contrast to sadness, I find that anger polarizes things and people. It divides the world into "good people" and "bad people" and then tries to find a way to control what it deems as bad. Anger justifies itself using words like justice and fairness, but how exactly do we define what is fair? There are many things in life, as my student discovered recently, that just aren't fair at all. So there needs to be a way of handling the disappointment and accepting it even when we do have reasons to feel sad or disappointed.

 It may seem hard to believe, but our thoughts aren't really "our" thoughts. I say this for two reasons. Firstly, most of our thinking is a combination of previous experiences, memories, culture and language. Our personalities are shaped in such indelible ways from the day we are born that it's sometimes no surprise that we find ourselves sounding more and more like our parents as we age. This is because the family is such an intimate bond that has a huge impact on how we frame the worlds that we inhabit. Secondly, thoughts aren't identified with a fixed person or "I". Have you ever had a thought that was so negative that you later judged yourself for having it? That's like giving two hammer strikes instead of one! The first thought hurts you by having a negative energy, but then the second thought judges "you" for having that thought. In fact, so long as we don't water the seeds of negative thinking, those seeds will dissipate. And we can do this by recognizing that the thoughts have no thinker behind them. There is no cohesive or coherent I that is beneath those thoughts.

Some people still try very hard to perfect their selves, but the meaning of repentance is simply to reflect on habitual tendencies. It's not the "self" that we need to make better, but rather, our habitual tendencies and energies that can be improved. No action, no matter how good or bad, can define me, because actions are, at heart, impermanent. If we can move beyond the stifling notion that there is a fixed self, then our attitudes toward ourselves and other beings can become much more fluid and flexible.

Another option for coping with this judging tendency is to simply let go of thinking there is anything outside the mind that we can pass judgment on. After all, if all the things we judge were simply dreams of our own reckoning, is there anybody in that dream who can be judged? Not really! Anything of the mind is only phenomena, and there is not even an "I" in there that we can establish as an object to be punished. In this way we can be freed of judgments altogether as well as the accompanying restrictions that result from them.