Multitudinous Nature of Objects

 “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."

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

It's worthwhile to pause and reflect on these sentences for a while. "Not knowing that the world is only something seen of the mind itself" is quite interesting in that it makes me realize that "all is me", and there is nothing that I can say is separate. If I take something to be scary or bad, I am really taking part of me and calling it scary and bad. It's like when we are conditioned to think of things as messy or disorganized, because many people frowned upon it and it came to be known as something negative. If we accept the way that even these people and voices are created by the mind, then we can find relief in this unfolding movie we are observing.

 This doesn't mean that we are beyond praise or blame. Rather, not thinking that these thoughts relate to external realties, we have more freedom within to reframe our situations in various ways. It's a little bit like acting on a stage. Every new situation has brand new variables, and by not buying into the identity game of thinking I am only this body or "this character" that is fixed, then I can interact more freely. In fact, it isn't really my body that is interacting with other bodies at all. 

This brings me to the first point which is, "cling to the multitudinous-ness of external objects". We take all these objects to be things that are outside of the mind, and then discriminate the ones we like and dislike. We classify them and label them, not realizing that all of these so-called things has the essence of appearances rather than graspable entities. Then we try to hoard them, only to find we have no space for them anymore (I am looking at my bookshelf now!).

 Multitudinous things brings to mind the way that we get confused in a candy store. We hardly realize that all those colorful confections are really only sugar in different forms and flavors. The essence is the same. Even down to the molecular level and atomic level, there is not much to these energy forms. Yet we spend so much time investing in the tastier ones, and even become addicted to them when they are all fundamentally just syrup and other simple compounds. Life itself is just different form configurations. But the basis of these configurations is more or less similar laws and properties coming together, so there is no need to prefer one to the other.

That means we can be less worried. Everything is just a new challenge, and we can enjoy these configurations of the mind. But not get so attached to them.

Beyond Praise and Fortune

 Those who see thee thus, serene and beyond conception, will be emancipated from attachment, will be cleansed of all defilements, both in this world and in the spiritual world beyond. In this world whose nature is like a dream, there is place for praise and blame, but in the ultimate Reality of Dharmakaya, which is far beyond the senses and the discriminating mind, what is there to praise? O you who are most Wise!

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 4). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

This quote makes me think, indeed, there is place for praise and blame, and all human beings will probably have their share of turmoil. We go through all the round of suffering because life is hard work and takes a lot out of us, and we aren't just isolated beings. We live in community with other beings, where right/wrong, praise/blame etc. become the norm. But ultimate reality is not so strict, since there are an abundance of opportunities and we need not approach anything from the perspectives of scarcity and demands.

When we look at things from this more spacious perspective, then there is no need to be so tightly wound up within the illusory ideal of the self. Instead, we can take a more open and surrendering approach to life--not knowing what's next, but eager to find out. More importantly, perhaps we can give ourselves permission to truly belong in the universe and to know that we are also in the care of other sentient beings, and nobody is ever excluded from this care. In this realm, there is no praising one sentient being over another, since all possess Buddha nature and all will discover it eventually. There are only differences in time.

Going beyond senses and discriminating mind means there is something to hope for that is beyond the self and its concerns. When we are fully aligned to this, then we don't base our sense of worth on what we have acquired or what we do. While this doesn't excuse reckless use of money, it suggests that we not identify with what we have and simply be happy with who we are. We can give ourselves permission to fail, to make mistakes, and even to sometimes appear foolish, since life can be embraced fully with all its ups and downs as temporary phenomenon. Perhaps this is what gives us courage to live in the life of turmoil and unpredictability.

Vanishing into Nirvana

You do not vanish into Nirvana, nor does Nirvana abide in you, for Nirvana transcends all duality of knowing and known, of being and non-being.

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (pp. 3-4). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

In this passage, it seems Buddha is talking about two common ways of thinking about nirvana. On the one hand, we might take the approach that nirvana is a great "leaving" or "vanishing", similar to a disappearing act where we enter some void and never return again. But if there is an actual "vanishing", who is vanishing? The notion of vanishing into Nirvana still leaves the question of what is aware of the vanishing and whether it resides in the void.

.On the other had, the notion of a nirvana that abides within is also reminiscent of an essentialist view of the spirit. It is as though we could look inside of our bodies and find nirvana residing there. This too is resting on the delusion that there is a separate being that always resides in ourselves or even an essential nature. Even though texts do talk about Buddha nature, it seems this is not a substance that we can point to.

So when this part of the sutra suggests that Nirvana transcends duality of knowing and known, being and non-being, I have the thought that it means going beyond all categories that we create. Whenever we label or judge ourselves, we are always imagining a self or a being that remains the same. Is there? Even when we are making mistakes, do we make the same mistake twice? The notion that there is a self who is "essentially" or "inevitably" anything gives rise to all kinds of attachments, including the desire to protect the self or to achieve something special like the feeling of "vanishing" or "possessing" some prized or coveted object that nobody has.

If, on the other hand, we see life as a process that is always moving and in motion, then we no longer stick to the notion that we are "something" or "becoming something". Instead, we can acknowledge that our nature is always empty and compounded. Under this notion, our troubles are no more static than bubbles, and our successes also seem fleeting. This frees us up to embrace whatever is happening with equanimity: nothing to celebrate when things go "well" and nothing to mourn when things go "badly". This is because nothing is born or dies.  

Finally, Nirvana is not something we acquire through knowledge. The more we know, the farther we might even get from the view of empty mind. We continue to think in terms of acquisition, like a hand trying to grasp at sand.

Egoless

 With your perfect intelligence and compassion, which are beyond all limit, you comprehend the ego-less-ness of things and persons, and are free and clear from the hindrances of passion and learning and egoism.

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 3). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

"Ego" has become a catch-word in psychology. I do recall learning about ego based psychology as an undergraduate student (see Heinz Kohut, for instance), who linked the development of ego to the proper empathy that a child can receive from caregivers. It may seem surprising, therefore, for Westerners to learn that Buddhism stresses the "ego-less-ness" of things and persons, meaning that there is no ego inside things or people. I suppose this can be taken in different ways, but maybe what the Buddha is trying to convey is that the ego is only a mental construct that we habitually form around ourselves and people around us. Once we do become locked into a strong sense of ego, it may be hard to realize that people are actually an amalgamation of many moving forces, and there isn't once cohesive "person" in all of it after all.

Ego is not just about being attached to one's own self. In fact, in the context of this passage, it seems that even "things" can be endowed with a sense of ego, such as when we assume that a precious or loved object has permanent qualities or characteristics. We even endow "human" qualities onto non-human objects, so this also adds to the idea that ego is a construct.

How does one build a sense of ego? Passion, for one, is being attached to certain things and repelling others. But it surprises me that "learning" would also be said to be a hindrance to ego. Why "learning", you may wonder? I think because learning often creates a sense of "I have learned or heard this already" which blocks us from directly experiencing things, which strengthens a conceptual understanding of self as opposed to a direct awareness of its impermanence.

Visions Beyond Reach

 As you review all things by your perfect intelligence and compassion, they must seem to you like visions beyond the reach of the human mind, as being and non-being do not apply to them.Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 3). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

What does this term mean, "visons beyond reach of the human mind"? I think the clue to this lies in the second part of the sentence, which says "as being and non-being do not apply to them". It seems to suggest that the more we reach a stage of enlightenment, the more things take on the nature of appearances, rather than solid and living entities that we can refer to as "existent" as opposed to "non existent". We often distinguish between "real" and "unreal" or "fantasy" vs. "reality", without truly defining the terms. What exactly do we use to measure the real as opposed to the fantastic?

 Scientists would say that the burden of proof always lies with the observer or the believer. In other words we need some kind of quantitative or experimental proof to confirm that something is true. But we often take things purely on faith and trust, such as when we eat food at a restaurant believing that it's "safe" when we haven't directly seen any inspection of the kitchen or staff. Our observations are often, in fact, a combination of sensation and beliefs. There is nothing inherent in the appearance of a snake that would make us feel it is dangerous in any way, yet we flinch when we see a snake darting in front of us. We might think the snake "appears" harmful, but what exactly does "harmful" look like, and how do we really know? Our knowledge is often a combination of direct observation and passed down folklore that takes the form of common sense. In so many ways, our knowledge is not directly perceived but is rather culturally acquired at a very early age.

The point is, the more we look at what believe to be "existent", the more we realize that what we take to be "real" is often the result of interpretation, hearsay and faith, rather than direct experimental proof or experience. Fact and fiction can at times blend together to create imagination. Perhaps an enlightened being is so attuned to the impressions of the mind that they are more sensitive to fantastic visions o that don't necessarily have a grounding in empirical observation. Here, neither being nor non-being apply, since these fantastic visions are purely created by the mind or are mental energies.

Looking this way, one may start to see the world in a new way. The apparently real seems all the more fantastic because it is momentary and created by the mind. The present unfolding moment seems to be a source of awe and splendor when we stop buying into the idea that what we experience is external to an observing I. This can be a delightful vision that happens because we are not attached to an idea of the world that situates things as self-existent and outside of the mind.

Dream Like Mind

 "As you review the world with your perfect intelligence and compassion, it must seem to you like a dream of which it cannot be said: it is permanent or it is destructible, for the being and non-being do not apply to it." Gautama, Buddha.  THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 3). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

If we want to know the quality of our life, we might begin with the question: What are our dreams like? 

 It's hard to believe that we create our own dreams and then live in them, similar to the expression, "lie in the bed you've made". If one's mentality is one of blame or anger, then one creates a world where no one is to be trusted. Conversely, a world where nobody seems to be trustworthy fosters the belief that I must rely completely on my own devices in order to get along in the world. But if we loosen our ideas of what constitutes reality, we will find that there is a lot of wiggle room in which to breathe.

If we take the emotion of anger, for instance, we will find that an angry dream is a contracted one. But there are many complexes where anger thrives. One of them is the belief that if I am sufficiently upset, I can influence the way others behave toward me. Many of my old teachers in grade school and middle school projected an aura of anger in order to intimidate their students. Only on the last day of school might these teachers relent and even have a smile or two! The point is that an angry demeanor often generates a sense of fear, authority and respect. On the other hand, it's clear that anger often separates people. When a person says unkind or angry words without thinking about their impact, they create an atmosphere of tension which can lead to others subtly avoiding the person for fear that they will trigger the person's anger. While this may be advantageous for an authoritarian personality, it doesn't go well in groups or teams of people.

Another part of an angry dream is indeed, the idea of hurt pride or honor. When we "lose face" or reputation, we can behave like the asuras or "jealous gods", who endlessly compete with each other in a certain kind of heaven for things like merits and blessings. If, on the other hand, we let go of honor or reputation, we become like a poor man with nothing from which a person can steal. Who steals from a homeless person or a vagabond? This is an analogy but the poor in spirit is someone who has nothing to lose and nothing gained either. Such a person is unafraid of losing honor, and can remain happy when the powerful around them are competing for titles and honors.

Anger feels like power, at least momentarily, but it often doesn't wield very much power beyond the ability to hurt our bodies. If I become angry, my heart races, my face turns red, and my stomach becomes very sore and very unstable. All of these symptoms do not happen to the person with whom I am angry! So, by generating anger, I only hurt my own body. So why do we so often see portrayals of heroes in movies using their anger to reap a satisfactory "vengeance" on the enemy? This is because movies don't accurately convey the workings of karma. A heroic journey is nearly always an uphill climb to success, whereas the real story of life is always a circle of ups and downs. Whatever I exert will come back to me in some form; it can't go anywhere else.

It might be better to find the sadness that underlies our anger. Anger is about some kind of threat of loss. But as soon as we are angry, we have already lost! We have lost our peace of mind, so we should really turn anger to sadness and see how the situation we are in is one of extreme suffering. Turning from hot anger to cool sadness is like water pouring out a fire. Sadness is much more controllable--it never rages outside the boundaries of our heart. At least realistic sadness suggests: we can never really get what we want all the time, and we might have to live in a state of constant compromise and negotiation as a result.

Let's look at the sutra again:

 it must seem to you like a dream of which it cannot be said: it is permanent or it is destructible, 

Remember how in the previous section, the flower was used to illustrate the idea of no birth and no death. Now the sutra turns to the notion of impermanence. We can't say a dream is permanent, because it consists of nothing but mental imagery that is unfolding in our mind. But nor can we say a dream is "destructible", precisely because its core nature or essence is mind itself. Nobody has ever "reached out" to a dream and crumpled it, threw it in the garbage, or even blew it up with dynamite. That is, there is no causal efficacy to dreams, because dreams are only images that flit about here and there. Even in the case of "lucid" dreaming, can we say there is a real "dreamer" manipulating things in the dream? Where is the dreamer, and where is the dream? These are concepts that can't even be located. The dream is little more than a succession of ideas.

Buddhism isn't nihilistic: it doesn't say, all things are nothing but images with no reality. It goes deeper than that, suggesting that the nature of life cannot be reduced to causes and effects. In a dream, nobody comes in and becomes the hero, because all the elements of the dream are from the same mind. Nobody "wins" or "loses" and there isn't a predominant element, because these cascading thoughts have no connection with each other. The ideas we impose upon life--causality, substance, nature, matter, people, self--simply fade out when we start to compare existence to a dream. These ideas are simply contrived principles that don't have a tangible or endurable existence. 

Even the concept of "Impermanence" is only one of many illusory constructs. It's meant to point to a nature of mind that is forever infinite and changing, but there is no impermanence/permanence--they are only relative concepts that mean nothing. Impermanence comes close to what we experience directly in the present moment, but we mustn't imagine there is such a thing called impermanence or permanence. That's because these are dualistic concepts. When we finally have the last leg of the chair taken off, there are no more concepts that we can cling to to capture this moment, now, the thusness of what is. It's dream-like, but on the other hand cannot compare to anything we can conceptualize mentally.

Ethereal Flowers

 As you review the world with your perfect intelligence and compassion, it must seem to you like an ethereal flower of which one cannot say: it is born, it is destroyed, for the terms beings and non-being do not apply to it. Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 3). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

When I think of ethereal flowers, I am reminded of the Sutra of Complete Enlightenment, which compares deluded mind to the floaters that appear on one's eyes. When we say it is not born, not destroyed, what do we mean? A delusional flower is not actually a "real" flower, so we can't speak of it needing water or soil, or other conditions to grow. In fact, because the flower is only an image we form in our mind, there are no causes and effects for it to happen. 

Now surely, this can't apply to everything, can it? After all, Buddhism doesn't deny that there are causes and conditions. However, what it does say is that the nature of cause and effect is more mental than we take it to be. David Hume, the British philosopher, was my first exposure to this idea, because he showed that causal relationships are more of a matter of customary association than they are actual "substances" that cause things to happen in the world. For instance, when I see a rock being thrown through a window and glass breaking, I imagine that this is a purely physical relationship, where the mass of the rock "causes" the window to shatter. But Hume suggests that from the purely mental point of view, we don't experience any cause or effect, only one event customarily preceding the other: I see a rock hitting a window, then see glass breaking. I then infer that the rock causes the glass to break. Causality, however, or the force thereof, is not directly observable.

We do plant seeds, and seeds become flowers, but we are only ever interacting with the flowers of our minds. Flowers, like any other form, depends on the mind to appear. This is why it's thought to be "ethereal". We need awareness to be able to recognize the flower as a flower, and give it a name, as well as distinguish it from other things in the environment. All these are purely mental acts, on top of which we project the notion of "I" (a subject) when we narrow our focus on an object.

More so, because the appearance of the flower is so mind-dependent, it cannot be said to be a separate thing that is "born" or "destroyed". Can thoughts or memories "give birth" or "die"? They don't have these properties, and therefore the flowers we perceive are also not born or destroyed. We might imagine that the image of a flower "dies" when we don't perceive it, but actually this is only a metaphorical expression to say that something "leaves" a scene or leaves the world. These metaphors don't apply to images, since images only appear once, then get superseded by other images. In a movie film strip, we similarly see this kind of constant change, which makes it seem as though there is one single image that forms the substance of the others, when in fact, it's all just a series of images put together. The mind "fills in" the rest.

By having a clinging and tenacious view of thoughts, we cling to happy things, sad things, likes, dislikes, and then imagine they are more pervasively real than they are. They start to take on a larger than life power over us, when in the end they are only the thoughts that we feed habitually. A good example is an addictive substance: we try to quit, but seeing the substance triggers a habit energy that seems to impel us toward it. Actually, these habits are only tendencies of the mind, which can easily be curbed by developing other habit energies. This is a little bit of why "ethereal flowers" are a common metaphor in Buddhist scriptures.

Illusory Analogies

  I continue with my thoughts on key phrases of the Lankavatara Sutra:

"The world  as seen by discrimination is like seeing one's own image reflected in a mirror, or one's shadow, or the moon reflected in water, or an echo heard in the valley. People grasping their own shadows of discrimination become attached to this thing and that thing and failing to abandon dualism they go on forever discriminating and thus never attain tranquility" (p.2).'

As I am reading his passage, I am reflecting on how easy it is to become absorbed in a simple thing like moving images. Television, commercials, and even the fashion of celebrities at the latest gala events, attract our eyes, to the point where we become "glued" to the screen and even track celebrities' movements through tabloids and the media at large. We project onto these images various qualities, feelings and personality traits that the person may or may not necessarily possess. I imagine that if I were this person, I would be so much happier than.. and so on. Most of the images are endowed with imagination, in a way that's similar to how a balloon is filled with air. The size and shape of the balloon are determined by how much air we put into it, and not the substance of the balloon itself (which turns out to be quite small, when deflated).

The problem is about "discrimination". The heart of discrimination is dividing the world into "this body" and "that world". The mind then goes through a process where it labels everything according to its likes and dislikes, seeking and rejecting, until the world comes to resemble things that possess the values we internally project onto them. A snake becomes something associated with cunning, rebellion and evil, when in fact, it possesses similar faculties to other animals. It is ourselves that sees the snake this way and then starts to believe it really has those qualities.

When we are very happy with someone, we might elevate them to the point of divinity, only to find later that they disappointed our expectations. When we are angry with someone, we might demonize them, to the point where a mistake escalates into a very distorted view of the person. Why does this happen? The mind fails to see that the original thoughts from which these ideas originated are quite fleeting. We may have all experienced times when a person we are angry with is seen 'in a better light' over time because their behavior changed, or we gain insight into why their original behavior annoyed us. In other words, the "person" is not composed of past thoughts or ideas. The person is a living and thriving set of interconnections. The Diamond Sutra goes even further to suggest that person, living being, self and soul are not actually real entities, but are only labels we assign to passing phenomena that don't form a cohesive substance or whole. Only because we associate thoughts over time do we have notions of things existing over time and independently of thoughts and mind.

When we really become aware of the fleeting nature of our thoughts, then we lose our assumptions about our present experience, and have an easier time to see the real nature of thoughts without being stuck on them.

World Devoid of Effort and Action

 All that is seen in the world is devoid of effort and action because all things in the world are like a dream, or like an image miraculously projected. From Lankavatara Sutra, tr. D.T. Suzuki, p.2

I have been enjoying an initial reading of Dwight Goddard's edited Lankavatara Sutra. (Disclaimer; when I read a text for the first time, I usually do so quickly to get a good overview of it). I would like to share some basic overview of what I hope to achieve from readings of the sutra. But first I want to start with this puzzle: if the world is devoid of effort and action, what would that appear? What's the opposite of this state of being devoid of effort and action? Sometimes exploring the opposite might shed some light on what the world devoid of effort and action might look like.

We often use the metaphor of "heavy" to describe something that is serious. For instance, when something bad has happened, we say "with heavy hearts", or we say "this guy is way too heavy for me", meaning too "deep" or serious. Heaviness entails a sense of responsibility or burden. A world that has a lot of effort and action may seem like a hurricane of events that are "bombarding" us all at once, have equal urgency, and put us into a frenzy. As a result, our thoughts become very scattered, and we even start to look for ways to relieve the stress in our minds.

Buddha seems to suggests a way out in the sense that the world may not be heavy (literally or metaphorically) than some may assume or imagine. There is not so much of a temporal sense of hustle and bustle when we start to slow down and realize that the world is not moving so much as our mind is, as we become caught up in the maelstrom of thoughts and even stir up our minds. Secondly, when we start to lose this notion of distinct agency, knowing that cause and conditions are always reforming every moment, then we stop thinking of someone who performs an action and something that is acted upon. In this way, we don't need to feel that there is a world outside that is acting on us or pushing down on us. The world and "me" are constructions of the mind.

But I believe that in order for this sutra to confirm these ideas or impressions, a deeper analysis is needed to understand this line. I will try to explore more in the coming weeks!

"To Be in A Dream"

"To Be in A Dream"- a poem inspired by Lakavatara Sutra (shortened version translated by D.T Suzuki) 

What does it mean to be in a dream?

It means no pretense

I don’t need to change my pyjamas?

 

What does dreaming mean?

We are all in this dream

So isn’t there a consequence?

 

Sentient beings are playing on the same platform

The same Microsoft windows

What does it mean to be in a dream?

 

I think I am a separate entity

Then start to wrack up all the points

I don’t see there is no static I

 

I insist on thinking of this thing called “me”

Not recognizing it as a series of impressions

And who is receiving the impressions?

 

Then get angry when “I” don’t get recognition

But who is getting angry?

Not this body, that’s for sure-and not these impressions

 

It’s best to let go and recite “Amitofuo”

There is something in all this that won’t be resolved

By thinking alone

 

To see this, one must get beyond thinking

To see thoughts as only thoughts, not static entities

That is why practice is not about thoughts at all

 

Then when I feel that familiar fear:

The fear of losing myself in all this void

Just continue to recite Amitofuo, until smiling again

 

Taking refuge from thoughts

That is the essence of Chan

But who is thinking that?

 

Even refuge entails duality: an “I”

Who takes refuge from what?

Seriously, is there anything to fear?

 

You might try to go down a rabbit hole

With this huatou, what is wu?

But this might also be a deception:

 

Pieces of a dream trying to escape

or emerge from pieces of a dream

Why create such kind of a pressure?

 

Just at the moment the question is posed

Then recognize all that struggle

Is a dream poking at a dream

 

Then all is serene

No thoughts get entangled

No tensions and only joy

Taking Refuge

   When I asked the participants in the Friday meditation sitting what "taking refuge means to them", I was caught with the idea of taking refuge as simply being in the present moment. Being with what--with all the confusion! And being within things that are not clear to us, just trying to make sense of what we have and what we need to learn.

    Taking refuge seems to strike a balance: I want to carry the bale of hay and not drop as many as possible, but when I do drop a few, it doesn't make me drop the whole bale of hay. Life is full of competing claims and desires. As Shifu Sheng Yen has taught, our "wants are many, needs are few". To be able to see the big picture without succumbing to "trying to pick up each dropped piece of hay" is a kind of balancing act. If we lose sight of what matters, we will end up going so deeply into the details that we lose focus and cannot keep direction.

    Taking vows means: I will try to be present in everything I do and take care of my behaviors in relation to others, but I am not going to make myself miserable and despondent if I miss a few things. This is because the precepts have to be balanced with the complex and impermanent nature of life.

     We take shelter in the nature of mind as something boundless and empty in nature. Guidelines are important but not to the point of constraining ourselves too much with regrets. Otherwise, we will make the mistake of believing that we are limited by a few isolated perceptions of who we are, not realizing that we are capable of continuous change and growth.

     When we take refuge, we are not escaping life's responsibilities, but rather facing them with more resilience and something that will guide us on the path. Being mindful of our confusions, we can stay patient in confusion until we have more clarity.

Going Slowly

  Today the driveways are covered in snow, and naturally, everything starts to slow down. People have to shovel to get their cars out on the road, which means more delays, while people on the move have to keep themselves from slipping. There are so rarely times to slow down our brains and be at the same pace as our bodies. Meanwhile, it is even harder to slow down the racing thoughts in our heads. So we need constant reminders to take our time and really appreciate something.

   I would like to describe the idea of slowing down to see how thoughts become "things". I wonder if you have noticed times when one makes a "thing" out of something in their mind. A criticism becomes "I am like this", and we even see ourselves as the object of the criticism, or the person within the thought. But in that gap between hearing a harsh word and solidifying it into something solid, we can slow down and observe the rawness and sense of fragility. 

     When discussing such an experience, the American Buddhist nun Pema Chodron uses words like "tender" or "vulnerability", but I have a hard time relating to these words, so I prefer to think of it as "being at the mercy of...". Somehow, we are held by things, both visible and invisible, and it's only in moments when we feel like we are about to be dropped that we become aware of the ways in which we are held in a support by the people and arrangements around us.  We can probably afford to stay in this state of "Being held" to the point where we feel more humble. I am not the one solely supporting myself, and what happens to me is often (inter)dependent on the forces around me. Yet, indeed, anything can change in any given moment, and loss is just a breath away.

    There really isn't anything to do with this sense of "feeling supported yet fragile". But somehow we make it into a "thing", such as pride (wanting to retreat into defenses or ego), and self-immolation (another ego, only calling oneself the "worst" instead of the best). Sometimes we even attempt to beg for mercy from some higher being. What we are most afraid of is, in that moment, the feeling that there is nothing really fixed or secure about the self. The self is not like an armored tortoise; it is always prone to some new thing that challenges its sense of enduring permanence.

   The important point is that when this kind of fragility strikes us, we should try to stay there and not go any place. Look into the sense of nothingness/everythingness that is this present totality, that cannot be grasped or even grappled with. And then we might find ourselves more comfortable with uncertainty, although we continue to strive to keep afloat. This isn't to say that we stop striving to achieve, but again, we do it with the full knowledge that there is no one who gains or loses from it. It is just working with conditions to create the best harmony within and without.

On Devotion

  When I guided the meditation tonight, I mentioned about the concept of the bodhi seat, and how reminding ourselves of our aspiration to bodhicitta is one of the most powerful motivations to practice. When I think deeply about this, I realize that devotion is a very important aspect of anything we do. It makes sense that before we set out to do something, we should put our hearts into it by devoting ourselves to a principle, or to practice itself. This is so rarely mentioned when we describe the preliminary elements of meditation, but I think devotion can serve to focus the mind and provide more motivation to stay on our method rather than letting the mind stray to all kinds of preoccupations.

   In Buddhism, what can we devote ourselves to? I find that reciting Buddha's name is one form of devotion, since Amitabha represents the power of vows to protect all sentient beings and liberate them from suffering. Having the focus on the Buddha is one way to concentrate our minds, calm wandering thoughts, and develop a sense of seriousness in practice. Meditation is not just a hobby or a way to relax; it can invoke many deeper elements of the heart, such as the aspiration to become more wise and detached about life, while still cultivating a sense of compassion and heart. When we recite, it's a good idea to really have faith in our connection with the Buddha, as the Buddha is our own mind. Even when our mind is full of garbage and there's no clarity in sight, that very mind is the Buddha mind. When we reflect on how we are never at all far away from Buddha's peaceful nature (and it's our birthright in fact), then we can settle into a sense of joy and gratitude. Even if the Buddha as a form is only an expedient means, devoting ourselves to the Buddha as a form, historical figure and image, is one way of more emotionally connecting to the Buddha. We are essentially using our human senses to connect with the Buddha by contemplating all his marvelous features and auspicious signs, which point to a mind that is beyond phenomena.

  Another reason for devotion is that it offers a sense of protection from both temptations of the world and more adverse situations. If we don't have something pure to which to point our minds to, other things of the world will compete for our attention, such as wealth, fame, power, or even ideologies that are based on polarized notions of success and failure, right and wrong, etc. By having a pure image that we can relate to, we can remind ourselves not to succumb to the world's temptations, and try to keep our mind as straightforward as possible, while maintaining a sense of open awareness.

    Finally, devotion does not have to be limited to a temple or other religious institution. We can devote ourselves to our work, by reminding ourselves to work with pure and settled minds rather than giving into scattered thoughts or interruptions. This does not mean we have to suppress thoughts; instead, it means that we gently and quietly bring our minds back to a serenity that is embodied in an object of devotion, such as a Buddha figure, a portrait of a revered figure, etc. This also makes our working lives more meaningful and filled with purpose. It's not the work itself that matters so much as the mindset and attitude that we put into it, which is to always point to the Buddha mind.

    When I talk about devotion here, I am not talking about worshipping a god or someone higher. Rather, I am describing a sense of purity and clarity that can protect us from more unwholesome emotions such as anger.  When we entrust ourselves with images of devotion, we give rise to a sense of gratitude that we have teachers to reveal the buddhadharma to us, and feel the benefits of the practice and philosophies of Buddhism.

All is Buddha, Within and Without

   I have gone into a kind of caffeine remission for a few days now, having decided to cut it out from my life. When I meditated tonight, I felt a sense of clarity but also the sense of missing caffeine. Perhaps there is something in it that gives me a boost of energy in the brain. But in any case, I simply rested in the sense of "this is what is", without trying to compare it to a better state of mind that I imagine exists. 

   What I have observed in the process of doing this "experiment" of sorts is that the ordinary mind seems to always be involved in a sense of dukkha, or dissatisfaction with "what is". I am always feeling that things are never enough, because my mind is in this state of movement. Only through meditation can I get a taste, if only for a moment, of what life is like when we are no longer striving for things, nor rejecting things either. Things are the way they are, much like a cluttered room can have a lot of things, but these things don't have an impact on the actual space itself.

   Meditation is a kind of special turning toward "what is" that can only happen when we initially apply a method of calming our mind. But when this happens, we can get a sense of spaciousness. I begin to realize that I am no longer a prisoner to my thoughts. The thoughts are coming and going, and I don't need to hold onto any sense of self. This is the meditation on "simply let go".

    I was editing an article tonight for DDM which talks about the "original face" before there is good and evil, right and wrong etc. As soon as I observe something I dislike, I immediately start to go to these default labels of right and wrong, not realizing that this kind of incessant judgment only implicates me in more bad karma. It's always best to drop all judgments of what is happening, but to hold to a high standard within oneself. By refraining from adding to the bustle of the world, I can go back to my original face at any time and realize that everything is just a manifestation of Buddha nature.

 Everything has the basic essence of impermanence, emptiness and no-self.  There is nothing that lasts forever. Even a very sharp pain in our bodies will not stay in our minds forever, because it's fundamental truth lies in its fleeting, conditional nature. Emptiness, similarly, entails that all we experience is the arising of cause and conditions that interconnect. The pain, frustration or agitation that we feel can never be attributed to simply one thing, but is the result of momentary coinciding of many factors. No-self means that we experience the lack of a stable reference point in anything. A rose is a rose--or is it? If you look very carefully, you will find an agglomerate of many things, such as petals, thorns, soil, and a stem. These elements make up the form that we then refer to as a "rose" (name) after which we derive many sensations (smell, sight, touch), perceptions, likes, dislikes and mental associations (a rose symbolizes love, for instance). All of these come together to make what appears to be a solid, enduring body, when in fact, there is nothing whatsoever there that is called a rose that we can point to as its essence.

With this in mind, I shouldn't waste a moment feeling frustrated when things don't go my way, or a sense of loss when I lose an opportunity, or even a sense of despair at a "lack of purpose". In the end, all is Buddha, within and without. all is suchness. There is nothing to attain. It's all the fundamental nature of all being reflected in individual beings.  And each and every thought is a reminder that we are here, and this "here" is all there ever is.

Diamond Sutra Midnight Meanderings (Part 1)

 In the Diamond Sutra the Buddha speaks of four ideas that a true bodhisattva does not attach to. These ideas, referred to as “characteristics” are: “self,” “other,” “sentient beings,” and “lifespan.” Actually, all four characteristics derive from the first, the idea of self (from Tea Words Volume 1, Master Sheng Yen)

If there is a notion of self and other that is illusory, is there any reason to "give"? A bodhisattva gives without attachment to a sense of self and others, but shouldn't there be a sense of "other beings" suffering that would motivate generosity and compassion?

When we experience suffering of any kind, it's all through the same mind. Whether it's "my" or "your" suffering, all of these perceptions are created by the mind. I experience "myself" and "others" with the same mind. Therefore, if I am truly liberated from notions of self, others, sentient beings, and lifespan, then I wouldn't be worried about keeping anything to myself. What's mine really belongs to all, because the mind encompasses all.

This doesn't mean that I give indiscriminately or unwisely. It means that I take all of this experience to be the mind. Mind is the screen through which all the characters of "me", "you", "they", "sentient beings", "non-sentient beings", and so on, are making their way. If I say I should donate all my money to you, then I am equally deluded as saying I should keep the money to myself. Why? Because I believe that there are real selves that have money. Do the characters on a movie screen actually "own" money? Think about it. Do they have clothes? Only if you take the images to be real will you start to invest in those images things like "belonging", "possesses", is "entitled" to etc.

The point is not to abandon the conventional notions of self, others, sentient beings and lifespans. These notions are needed if we are to communicate with each other in the world and even get things done. At work, Boss A has to choose between Tom, Jack and Mary in terms of who gets the promotion. People need to have names so that they can identify themselves. But the point is that we should not be too attached to these designations, because at the end of the day, Tom, Jack and Mary are constructions of the mind. We all even have different constructions of each character. I like Tom better than Mary, but you see Mary as a saint. Who are we to say which "Mary" is the "real" Mary? Mary is only a series of perceptions created by the mind. Same for "me" and "you".

When I fully embody the notion that sentient beings are only appearances of the mind, then my mind stops discriminating between the different parts of what I see. Friends cease to be friends, enemies cease to be enemies. I am able to see that the mind only creates these labels based on conditioning and, most importantly, the attachment to self. When someone criticizes "me", is this "me" more important than the critic? In fact both "me" and the "critic" are created by mind. Why should one assume more importance than the other? Furthermore, the two thoughts of "me" and "critic" don't even interact with each other. I too create the notion of "me" and "the critic" interacting to create the interchange of criticism and response.

But when all is said and done, who am I liberating when I realize this? It's only a kind of dream, so there is no one to liberate after all! All the dramas were created by mind. So the only real liberation is when we let go of self and other and recognize that it's all created by the mind.

The ultimate gift is to let go. That is all. Let go of naming, judging and labeling. Only be in this moment, and that is all. That is a gift without a giver and without a receiver. It just is but it encompasses all that we see equally.

Looking for Shoulds in Pains

  Reflecting on when pain becomes suffering, is there a specific point where we become over-attached to pain and it therefore becomes suffering? In this day and age of health fixes and naturopathy, we would do anything to buy a magic elixir that dashes away all the pains from our body, including uncomfortable headaches and the like. But I would like to suggest that, rather than focusing on pain itself, we need to focus on the line between pain and suffering. I believe that for the most part, pain becomes suffering when some aspect of pain becomes a kind of "should" where we assume a subject that ought to feel better and "be better" compared to others. Pain thus becomes a construct where we perceive ourselves as potentially having less restriction than we actually do.

   The mind naturally compares past to present. I imagine a "better" time somewhere in the past when I had a more youthful body or fewer frustrations. But is that person "real" or only a construct of my mind? In fact everything is really only mental constructs that come up in the present, which often make us believe that something is better than something else. Then we long for some "golden age" that presumably existed in the past, where we were completely pure, innocent and untouched by the scrapes and scarring of a life.

   Not only that, but we are then promised magical elixirs that are supposed to make us feel stronger and better. But the underlying problem is that we can never compare one moment to the next, and these moments, too, are fleeting. We can never go back to a "ground zero" point because there never was one. Again, things change all the time.

   The solution is not to try to eliminate pain altogether but rather, to stop trying to attribute pain to an agent. We don't blame ourselves for bodily discomfort (we have them all the time) and don't attribute these discomforts to a fixed self. After all, pain is only a phenomena and it's one of many sensations that travel through the body. If we are able to separate the pain from our sense of self and not associate one with a self, then the true nature of pain is seen as empty.

Background Music

 Whenever I walk into a Starbucks, there is nearly always some kind of background music playing, likely designed to attract customers, to set a cool trend, or, more pragmatically, to drown out the sounds of people chatting. Starbucks is, after all, just a big meeting place, similar to an auditorium or a conference room, only replete with baristas and the like. And, having worked in music copyright for so many years, I know the value of background music as a supplementary element to an organization's profits. Without music, there is simply a lack of ambiance that is needed to make customers feel at ease.

   In meditation, we are often asked the question, is it ok (or even ideal) if I meditate while listening to music? At the most recent meditation event that we hosted, we used music to help new participants feel at ease and less bored or distracted by the sitting practice. It seems effective in the context of a beginner's practice, but for me, I don't see music as a necessary element to one's meditative practice.

   Thoughts are similar to background music, in the sense that they come out from our unconscious and tend to linger in spite of our best efforts. I tell participants in our beginning classes that we should never treat our thoughts as the enemy, since doing so will only stir up the mind and make it very tense and tired. I sometimes even show a glass snowball to meditation newcomers. Shaking the ball is analogous to trying to suppress one's thoughts or even fight with them. On the other hand, when we simply let the thoughts settle of their own accord and work toward relaxing our tendency to grasp these thoughts, then we are in a better position to see through them.

   One exercise that I think it worthy to try is something like the following: if ever you find it difficult to put down wandering thoughts and distractions, try to imagine that the thoughts are just random flotsam debris, and there is a vast mirrorlike awareness that is supporting all that debris. The awareness can never be disturbed by the random thoughts; it just is in the midst of those thoughts, and it allows them all to co-exist together. What thoughts are you having now? Are you able to simply be there with those thoughts without attaching any particular importance to them individually? Since all thoughts co-exist together in this vast mirrorlike mind--likes, cravings, dislikes, distractions, disturbances, ego bashing and so on--in a sense, these thoughts are simply the chaotic members of a happy family. And mind is simply sitting with them, not pandering to one or the other, and simply knowing "what is is I need to do now?" 

   But mind doesn't attach to what it needs to do now...it simply knows it, and gently steers in the direction of what it needs to do. In this way, there is no need for our thoughts to compete for our attention. These thoughts are all treated equally, and therefore, the mind becomes settled enough to know clearly which thoughts are worthy of being followed and which are not.

   Only when the mind is relaxed can it perform effectively amidst the many chaotic events of the day. And truly, the mind can be comfortable in a situation where there is little control, because the mind does not need to control or subdue any of the arising conditions. These changes are not a threat to the mind, only to the small sense of self that insists on being in control of arising things. 

    If we adopt this approach when we meditate, and simply try to see beyond all thought without trying to subdue thought, then thought becomes like the background music at Starbucks. We are not trying to get rid of it, but it is not of utmost importance to our being. We need to stay with that.

Meditation and Adventure

  We don't often associate meditation with a sense of adventure.  But when I step beyond the confines of what I expect to happen, I start to acknowledge that there is so little I know about what will happen. Stepping out of one's comfort zone is not so bad when one becomes aware that nothing has ever been certain. When I recognize this, I let go of the craving for comfort and try to open up more to the sense of "what is". And this can be quite an adventure.

   During the talk this past weekend at U of T, Venerable Chang Xing talked about being flexible like bamboo. Bamboo embodies the sense of being both strong and flexible at the same time. Another analogy he used that is derived from the plant world is the "leaf in the wind", which is open to whatever circumstances happen to arise in the moment. This kind of approach requires an attitude of "no assumptions"-- or at least putting all assumptions aside to embrace what's happening in the moment.  On a more subtle level, it may imply begin able to see the perfection in every moment and embrace it. With a spirit of gratitude, I can recognize that not everything is "falling apart" and some things do support us as needed.

  When all else fails, we can always go back to the method of contemplating wants vs needs, and recognizing that our attachment to having things a certain way comes from confusing wants with needs. We may want things to go in a certain way, but is it truly a "need"? If we don't get it, are we able to safely let go of it, accepting that it's only a kind of desire that is arising in the mind? 

   These types of attitudes require a lot of hard work, especially the sense of anchoring and grounding to know that we don't need as many things as we imagine. But when we embrace that sense of not requiring a lot of things, our hands become open to carrying new things and having new adventures.

Enjoy Impermanence

 When all is said and done, all that we can be certain of is "now". But Six Patriarch Huineng has told us that even "now" doesn't exist as a concrete entity that we can somehow "freeze" in time. Maybe we should start using "now" as a verb rather than as a noun--that is, to speak of "nowing" instead of simply treating "now" a a frozen or fixed moment in time. But again, as Huineng remarks, while the future is unattainable and past is also ungraspable, so even the present is not something we can attach to. The present literally is a going concern, much like the ever changing currents of the river.

   Most of the problems of personal and human life can be traced to tendencies to freeze things into fixed moments. If we ever look at celebrity gossip, tabloids or even the conversations we engage in daily life, we often treat people around us as though they were these fixed characters that exist "out there", independently of the way we are constructing them. We "freeze" people in space and time, similar to the way a hunted animal is mounted on a wall. We want to somehow catch some essential truth about the world, so we go ahead and classify everything around us according to these neat categories such as "good", "bad", "wholesome", "unwholesome" etc. And as I was mentioning to my student during our class on disaster narratives, we sometimes even like to reduce other people to tragic accidents, for the sake of feeling better about ourselves. For instance, I may say "that person over there is making a mess of his life", and secretly enjoy the fact that my life is "more together" than his. This is the kind of mentality that gives rise to avarice and competition rather than an easy and relaxed mind.

   Another thing I have noticed about myself is that sometimes I might feel badly about something I have done and then conclude, I am "bad at" doing something. This then creates a cycle where I withdraw from engagement and continue to judge who I am based on one or two incidents. When I catch myself doing this, I realize that I am punishing myself with a a previous thought that has already passed. If I am truly a harsh judge, I also project onto others judgments that they often don't share with me. This again creates a cycle of withdrawal from the world.

   Perhaps the best way to be is to keep a mind that is open to each changing moment, and does not hold on so tightly to images, whether of self or others. This is the way to a more fluid reality. Another way is to enjoy the fact that what is here today will change tomorrow. Reading about the theory of evolution helps in this regard. We can marvel at the fact that species change to cope with new environments all the time, and adaptation allows for new ways of engaging the world. Everything we do, in fact, can be seen as a kind of learning experience that can be seen positively.

Detaching from the Outcome

 During our mindfulness workshop at U of T today, entitled "Returning to a Gentle Pace", I learned about the idea of detaching from the outcome. What exactly is "detachment" and how does it apply to our real life? When we detach, does that mean we live without any real emotional investments whatsoever? The concept of detachment can be quite tricky to understand, since we sometimes associate it with a lack of emotion. But one thing I have realized is that detachment doesn't mean that we don't care about things. It means that we do our best to take care of things that we are able to, without attaching to the outcome of our care.

   I think the point of detachment is that when we recognize that there are so many possible causes and conditions acting in different ways, we let go of perfection. With this recognition comes the realization of impermanence, knowing that things are subject to change all the time. This does not entail nihilism or a why bother kind of attitude, since nihilism is also a form of attachment! A person who is extremely nihilistic or cynical about life is attached to the idea of failure, to the point where they believe that nothing is worth embarking upon unless there is a guarantee of permanent success and achievement. 

   A middle path might be to say that even though things are impermanent, the flow of life connects us to other beings, and we should not stop that flow through a deluded attachment to static things.