I think one of the most important elements of Lotus Sutra that interests me is this idea that attachment to the 'concept' or the incorrect view of emptiness can be harmful to one's practice and to one's being in general. Buddha is even suggesting, in some regards, that it is harder for a person to be saved from attaching to emptiness than it is to save them from attachment to existence. I wonder what are the implications of this view, and how does it allow a person to be socially engaged? I am really asking the question: how does a person move from attachment to emptiness (or at least a false, distorted view of it) to real engagement in the world? And how is this achieved without 'reattaching' to existence?
I think the answer to this is to recognize that the six sense objects are neither bad nor desirable. They are not to be avoided altogether, since it is through the whole mind that people can reach enlightenment (eg. by way of practice). But at the same time, I do begin to wonder how it's possible for a person to truly live and be human if one falls into the nihilistic trap of seeing all things as coming and going --by nature, full of impermanence. More importantly, how is it that people can muster enthusiasm for things which are fundamentally impermanent?
The point is that avoidance of existence becomes an obstruction because that concept of emptiness becomes a kind of craving for 'non being'. But if a person truly realizes that she or he is never detached from the world (or that world and mind are one), there is no such confusion that says that all things are to be escaped or avoided because they are impermanent. In fact, nothing is really to be feared anymore, since it is all happening in the realm of phenomena. In this way, even socializing can be a way of practicing not attaching to views or to particular preferences.
I think the mistake that perhaps those who attach to emptiness make is that they are attaching to a partial view--the view that emptiness is a 'relief' from existence. Such isn't the case, since emptiness and existence go together and are inseparable from each other. To see emptiness in existence is to know that there is no need to escape from this moment. It is part of us and not something that needs to be avoided. It's like the hand and foot: why would I want to cut these off from my body, unless I had the deluded view that I am separate from them? When I relax in this moment, I am no longer trying to resist painful sensations, and I can be clear about the totality of the experience as inseparable from mind itself.
Friday, March 4, 2016
Smiling at Life
After the meditation period yesterday, the facilitator had
remarked about one of the participants, who was always smiling during
meditation. He was saying that at times, even when we don’t feel like smiling,
the act of simply smiling can be a
radical way of transforming one’s experience. I started to reflect on what it
means to just smile at a particular experience. What is the radical idea behind
that, and how does it relate to meditation?
There
seem to be two distinct orientations toward meditation that I have experienced
in my own sitting practice. The first has to do with somehow deploying these
expedient sort of means to arouse specific energies. This is similar to the
idea of ‘do something, and something else will follow.’ There is a second
approach to meditation, and that involves seeing the totality of where one is
and gently inquiring into it. What is that space, and what am I doing to resist
that mental space? How do I judge it, detach from it, or even try to separate
from it? I suppose the first approach is about being unsatisfied, feeling off
the mark, while the second is about asking the opposite: what am I not letting
go of to see that I am already on the mark? What stops me from being with the
mind in this moment? The first approach suggests that practitioners need to add
something that is lacking in themselves, while the second approach suggests
that practitioners simply need to let go of their sense of lack or separation, to
see the richness in themselves.
In the
early part of the 20th century, there was some kind of big movement
in psychology, and it was based on the idea that one should act first, then
feelings will follow. This psychological theory emphasized acting before
feelings and attitudes, to the point where it even ignored feelings altogether
as motivators of action. Pretty soon, however, people started to see that the
idea subtly disempowers people, because it suggests that people are blank
slates who can be programmed in a variety of ways to perform in certain
capacities. I don’t need to ‘feel’ that I am the President, only act like I am
one, and then I will become how I act. But it even seemed to get to the point
where feelings didn’t even factor into the equation, much less introspection. This
is similar to treating the mind like a computer which can be fixed, upgraded or
even replaced with new programs.
But
with meditation, I am not sure if the goal is to make the mind a blank slate in
this way, so that it could be filled with more positive or uplifting things. I
tend to think quite the opposite, which is that meditation reveals the process
of mind that is always present and from which we can never be alienated. Even
if I use a method to arouse myself into a particular state (such as more alert,
or light, or carefree), I soon realize that those methods are temporary means,
and they are no substitute for the mind to which they point. Without that sense
of ‘awe in the ordinary’, meditation could end up being another exercise in a
futile striving for self-improvement. But the more a person meditates, the more
she or he realizes the infinite abundance of the experience, but also the fact
that expedient means are always temporary and they don’t speak of this infinite
essence of mind..
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
The Laboratory of Relaxation
During meditation tonight, I had started out with many wandering thoughts. I couldn't believe how many there were in fact, but this was simply an indicator of how much I had missed the meditation process. And during the space of the practice, I kept trying to look into the source of those thoughts. Eventually, my body relaxed, but how did it do so? Admittedly, it was only during the second period, almost toward the end of the meditation, that I had really allowed my body to relax and release. There are many approaches, it seems, not just one, to relaxation, and I have almost found meditation to be a sort of ''laboratory" where I learn what relaxation principles tend to work well. I will mention a few here.
Perhaps the easiest way I have found to relax is not to even think about relaxing at all. If a person's focus is on the method of meditation practice, there is no need to try to arrange the body into a particular state of being. When a person is reciting loving kindness, for example, they simply use the intention to extend wellness to create a relaxing and peaceful situation. The important thing here is to cultivate the correct attitude of not trying too hard to relax or even to attain relaxation. If it so happens that my body and mind state are agitated, then I can make space to allow that agitation to arise, without getting caught up in its particulars. It is like simply observing the energy of the agitation rather than trying to look for the root causes and get rid of them.
There is another way I have found helpful and that is to observe tension with bare awareness. I found that when I was sitting today, I became acutely aware of a general feeling of tension in my forehead, neck and shoulders. As I truly embodied and beheld the force of that tension, something inside me released, and I was able to let go of it to a great extent. I recall reading about ''progressive relaxation", a technique where a person gets muscles to be as tight as possible and then releases them, in order to get a sense of what 'release' is really about. The release almost comes from fully acknowledging the pain of that situation rather than trying to rationalize it. It is like seeing how hard it is by really and fully accepting that it's hard or painful, thus in some way merging with it.
The third visualization that I found most effective is to imagine a compassionate being whose love is so vast that they share the pain with you. I found this approach to be very relaxing as well, especially because there is no longer an isolated self that is feeling the suffering.
I have also come to have great confidence in the ability for just sitting in simple silence to calm the body. Radical silence and being present, still and not engaged in anything is also a way to stop the thoughts from stirring up, and it's often taken for granted. As long as I am in an observational awareness. I no longer live in my thoughts, and this practice can be very rejuvenating even if it is not hooked up to any particular method of practice.
Perhaps the easiest way I have found to relax is not to even think about relaxing at all. If a person's focus is on the method of meditation practice, there is no need to try to arrange the body into a particular state of being. When a person is reciting loving kindness, for example, they simply use the intention to extend wellness to create a relaxing and peaceful situation. The important thing here is to cultivate the correct attitude of not trying too hard to relax or even to attain relaxation. If it so happens that my body and mind state are agitated, then I can make space to allow that agitation to arise, without getting caught up in its particulars. It is like simply observing the energy of the agitation rather than trying to look for the root causes and get rid of them.
There is another way I have found helpful and that is to observe tension with bare awareness. I found that when I was sitting today, I became acutely aware of a general feeling of tension in my forehead, neck and shoulders. As I truly embodied and beheld the force of that tension, something inside me released, and I was able to let go of it to a great extent. I recall reading about ''progressive relaxation", a technique where a person gets muscles to be as tight as possible and then releases them, in order to get a sense of what 'release' is really about. The release almost comes from fully acknowledging the pain of that situation rather than trying to rationalize it. It is like seeing how hard it is by really and fully accepting that it's hard or painful, thus in some way merging with it.
The third visualization that I found most effective is to imagine a compassionate being whose love is so vast that they share the pain with you. I found this approach to be very relaxing as well, especially because there is no longer an isolated self that is feeling the suffering.
I have also come to have great confidence in the ability for just sitting in simple silence to calm the body. Radical silence and being present, still and not engaged in anything is also a way to stop the thoughts from stirring up, and it's often taken for granted. As long as I am in an observational awareness. I no longer live in my thoughts, and this practice can be very rejuvenating even if it is not hooked up to any particular method of practice.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Not One and Not Two
I found this interesting quote from Master Sheng Yen in his article "A Second Moon" from Until We Reach Buddhahood", which talks about the question of whether there is one-ness or separation between people. He remarks: "Are the 'I'-that which sees-and the object--that which is seen--one or separate things? If they were one, then there would be no way to distinguish between what sees and what is seen. If they are two separate things, they would exist in and of themselves, and there would be no relation between them. The answer is, then, that what sees and what is seen cannot be said to be one thing and cannot be said to be two." (p.108)
Master Sheng Yen goes on to suggest that deeply contemplating this principle would lead to seeing "how pointless quarrels are between couples, fights between brothers, or the ending of friendships. A husband would consider a quarrel between his wife and himself as his own right foot stepping on his left. It would be like him biting his own tongue." (p.109).
I think there are many layers to unpack in this chapter, which I would like to explore more deeply. The first is the commonplace notion that there is always a division between 'knower' and 'known'. As Sheng Yen suggests, this is a problematic view. After all, people are evolved from both physical and mental aspects. Schools condition people by teaching them specific concepts, while the body itself is evolved to do things in certain ways. It's hard to posit a completely 'objective' knower when even the eye is adapted to fixate on certain kinds of stimulus, such as movement or sharp edges. Yes, whenever a person sees something, they might have this thought, 'I' see 'you', and then divide the experience into these two. But Sheng Yen asks his readers to go deeper than this: to see that the experience of subject and object is a totality. He thus remarks, "That which is seen by the self cannot be separate from the material, from matter. I can only sense or perceive a spiritual existence through interaction with matter." (p.105)
This sounds as though Master Sheng Yen is saying 'we are all one', which echoes a lot of spiritual teachings which describe the unification of mind. But in fact there is another layer to this. If I think there is this 'one reality' that is ultimate, I am only describing what I think to be the 'true moon' (not the reflection), when it too is just an appearance of mind. Similarly, while everything I see and feel is part of my overall experience, paradoxically, this is not an 'ultimate' experience, because it can be seen from endless points of view. And yet, the only view that we can really see is the one that is uniquely one's own. This is such a strange paradox because it admits the diversity of viewpoints while sanctioning the uniqueness of one's experience.
How does this play out in one's life? To give an example: if I think that 'my view' is the only 'right view' among a group of people, who am I to say which is 'mine' and which is ultimate truth? Both 'mine' and 'ultimate truth' are just concepts. On the other hand, it's impossible for me to know anything besides this immediate experience, since nothing is outside of it. For example, I cannot say that what I do 'affects' someone else outside the mind, since the only being I know are coming into my experience. Sheng Yen is referring to two common mistakes that I believe people make. The first is to assume that their view is the 'correct view' and others' views 'less' (thus attaching to self). This view ignores the fact that others are just part of my experience, and are not separate from it. The second mistake is to believe that what I do affects others as separate beings. This also isn't quite true, because again, the only experience I have access to is what is unfolding in this present moment. So it is somewhat pointless to contemplate what is happening to 'someone else' was though they were separate from this experience I am having now.
This is to say that I need to respect that others are just as much a part of me as the 'me' I think I am. But I have to admit that this concept still eludes me. I think that the only way I can describe it is by saying that there is only one mind interacting at any given moment, almost with itself (though this is another subject object split). And when I fully understand this I can start to relax and focus on how things are really known and encountered by mind rather than projecting duality into whatever I experience. This kind of approach would definitely lead to less of a sense of reacting as though there were separate beings around me. But I have to say that there is a long way for me to go to reach depth in this insight.
Master Sheng Yen goes on to suggest that deeply contemplating this principle would lead to seeing "how pointless quarrels are between couples, fights between brothers, or the ending of friendships. A husband would consider a quarrel between his wife and himself as his own right foot stepping on his left. It would be like him biting his own tongue." (p.109).
I think there are many layers to unpack in this chapter, which I would like to explore more deeply. The first is the commonplace notion that there is always a division between 'knower' and 'known'. As Sheng Yen suggests, this is a problematic view. After all, people are evolved from both physical and mental aspects. Schools condition people by teaching them specific concepts, while the body itself is evolved to do things in certain ways. It's hard to posit a completely 'objective' knower when even the eye is adapted to fixate on certain kinds of stimulus, such as movement or sharp edges. Yes, whenever a person sees something, they might have this thought, 'I' see 'you', and then divide the experience into these two. But Sheng Yen asks his readers to go deeper than this: to see that the experience of subject and object is a totality. He thus remarks, "That which is seen by the self cannot be separate from the material, from matter. I can only sense or perceive a spiritual existence through interaction with matter." (p.105)
This sounds as though Master Sheng Yen is saying 'we are all one', which echoes a lot of spiritual teachings which describe the unification of mind. But in fact there is another layer to this. If I think there is this 'one reality' that is ultimate, I am only describing what I think to be the 'true moon' (not the reflection), when it too is just an appearance of mind. Similarly, while everything I see and feel is part of my overall experience, paradoxically, this is not an 'ultimate' experience, because it can be seen from endless points of view. And yet, the only view that we can really see is the one that is uniquely one's own. This is such a strange paradox because it admits the diversity of viewpoints while sanctioning the uniqueness of one's experience.
How does this play out in one's life? To give an example: if I think that 'my view' is the only 'right view' among a group of people, who am I to say which is 'mine' and which is ultimate truth? Both 'mine' and 'ultimate truth' are just concepts. On the other hand, it's impossible for me to know anything besides this immediate experience, since nothing is outside of it. For example, I cannot say that what I do 'affects' someone else outside the mind, since the only being I know are coming into my experience. Sheng Yen is referring to two common mistakes that I believe people make. The first is to assume that their view is the 'correct view' and others' views 'less' (thus attaching to self). This view ignores the fact that others are just part of my experience, and are not separate from it. The second mistake is to believe that what I do affects others as separate beings. This also isn't quite true, because again, the only experience I have access to is what is unfolding in this present moment. So it is somewhat pointless to contemplate what is happening to 'someone else' was though they were separate from this experience I am having now.
This is to say that I need to respect that others are just as much a part of me as the 'me' I think I am. But I have to admit that this concept still eludes me. I think that the only way I can describe it is by saying that there is only one mind interacting at any given moment, almost with itself (though this is another subject object split). And when I fully understand this I can start to relax and focus on how things are really known and encountered by mind rather than projecting duality into whatever I experience. This kind of approach would definitely lead to less of a sense of reacting as though there were separate beings around me. But I have to say that there is a long way for me to go to reach depth in this insight.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Seeing Equally
The bus was so crowded today, though luckily it was a stretchy type bus. I decide to enjoy the thrill of the 'stretchy' part of the bus by gripping the handrails in this area and bracing myself for the buses' sharp turns. It's perhaps not the best way to take care of my spine, but may be a good core exercise in its own right. And I stood in front of a girl who was wearing earphones, though I could clearly hear the music coming out of its tiny buds. With not much room to take out a book and read, my mind struggles to find a place to roost. I start to recite Loving Kindness Meditation to calm my mind.
"May I be well, happy and peaceful"
"May my loved one be well, happy and peaceful"
"May my family be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all the people on this bus be well, happy and peaceful"
"May my colleagues be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all the beings in the city be well, happy and peaceful,"
"May all beings in the country be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all beings on the planet be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all beings everywhere be well, happy and peaceful"
And as I recited these lines, I started to see all the people on the bus in an equal way, from the perspective of equanimity. I started to glimpse in some way that everyone is similar in the way that they are all going to a destination, all wanting things to go well and on time, and all have some loved one to whom to come home, or perhaps at least would like as such. I started to realize that universality of being human, of wanting pretty much the same things that all humans want. This reassured me. I suppose it helped me to let go of a nagging sense of dissatisfaction of not wanting to be in that situation. I had a glimpse of where my real problems and challenges lay, which is in a grasping mental attitude.
Why is it hard for me to do this? Just to stop my wheels for a while and contemplate the universality of life, its striving, its mutual suffering? I don't know the reason.. I have a suspicion that it's because of the three poisons: the greed of wanting more, the aversion to having less, and the obliviousness to what's in front of me. But the deeper reason is that I always want to fill spaces with things to be done. What if there is nothing in particular to be done? What would it be like to breathe into that space of 'neither doing nor non-doing', just following the function of the moment without desiring the 'more'? It's just something for me to reflect on. The best love is the love of what's here, regardless of whether it's pleasant or unpleasant. Why? Because the love of the present is indestructible. Nobody can take you away from this moment. So perhaps the meaning of these verses 'well, happy and peaceful' is to wish all sentient beings to stop spinning in their own wheels, slow down, and love exactly what is in this time, without trying to fill every 'time' with new things.
A tough lesson! But it's practice.
"May I be well, happy and peaceful"
"May my loved one be well, happy and peaceful"
"May my family be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all the people on this bus be well, happy and peaceful"
"May my colleagues be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all the beings in the city be well, happy and peaceful,"
"May all beings in the country be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all beings on the planet be well, happy and peaceful"
"May all beings everywhere be well, happy and peaceful"
And as I recited these lines, I started to see all the people on the bus in an equal way, from the perspective of equanimity. I started to glimpse in some way that everyone is similar in the way that they are all going to a destination, all wanting things to go well and on time, and all have some loved one to whom to come home, or perhaps at least would like as such. I started to realize that universality of being human, of wanting pretty much the same things that all humans want. This reassured me. I suppose it helped me to let go of a nagging sense of dissatisfaction of not wanting to be in that situation. I had a glimpse of where my real problems and challenges lay, which is in a grasping mental attitude.
Why is it hard for me to do this? Just to stop my wheels for a while and contemplate the universality of life, its striving, its mutual suffering? I don't know the reason.. I have a suspicion that it's because of the three poisons: the greed of wanting more, the aversion to having less, and the obliviousness to what's in front of me. But the deeper reason is that I always want to fill spaces with things to be done. What if there is nothing in particular to be done? What would it be like to breathe into that space of 'neither doing nor non-doing', just following the function of the moment without desiring the 'more'? It's just something for me to reflect on. The best love is the love of what's here, regardless of whether it's pleasant or unpleasant. Why? Because the love of the present is indestructible. Nobody can take you away from this moment. So perhaps the meaning of these verses 'well, happy and peaceful' is to wish all sentient beings to stop spinning in their own wheels, slow down, and love exactly what is in this time, without trying to fill every 'time' with new things.
A tough lesson! But it's practice.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
"Created by the Mind"
For a long time, I have been a bit puzzled by the idea in Buddhism that phenomena are 'created by the mind', or all things in the universe are as such. I have wondered: if all things are created by the mind, why doesn't the bus come sooner for me on a rainy day, if I wish for it hard enough and long enough? Why do we often have the experience of being somehow 'thrown' into the world, perhaps even against our wishes? I wondered if perhaps the idea that all phenomena is a creation of the mind might only apply to Chan masters, or others who have cultivated great practice over many lifetimes to manipulate the physical world.
Master Sheng Yen greatly clarifies this subject when he remarks, "we must understand that something in the mind is manifested and then brought into the world. Generally, we begin with a desire for something....It certainly doesn't mean that all you have to do is to wish for something and it will suddenly appear out of thin air. If that were the case, you wouldn't have to work. You'd never have to lift a finger." (p.66). Master Sheng Yen suggests that what happens always manifests as a result of a combination of intentions and conditions. Individuals still need to plant the right intentions into their minds in order to create the right conditions, as well as according to the laws of karma. I believe that the notion of 'creation' that Master Sheng Yen suggests is quite different from a Western notion, which often carries the romanticized legacy that creation is coming from a single being (like Dr. Frankenstein, for example!). Creation is not, at least according to the Buddhist account, something that is done by one person, in one single stretch of time. It is manifest through reaping many conditions, over longer periods of time. Furthermore, intention also requires action and effort. Master Sheng Yen reminds his audience, "if your mind really moves in a particular direction, it will have the tendency to produce action according to the original idea or thought." (p.69) This is quite different from the assumption that one need only manifest the right thoughts to create good results. Thoughts need to lead to specific actions and decisions in order to truly be created by the mind. I find it also interesting that we tend to associate actions as 'external' to the mind, while thoughts are 'inside the mind'. In fact, both are equal parts mind.
Master Sheng Yen elaborates on the importance of forging relationships with a combination of thoughts, intentions and actions, in order for good things to come to fruition. He uses the example of a couple, the husband of whom complains that his wife must love Master Sheng Yen more than he because she scolds her husband and heaps praise on Sheng Yen. Master Sheng Yen reminds the couple that the only reason this is so is that the wife doesn't see Master Sheng Yen on a daily basis, whereas she would see her husband every day. The fact that she sees her husband more means that she would have more for which to scold or criticize. But it also suggests that the husband has more importance in mind, because there's a caring bond that is cultivated there. I found this example wonderful because it shows how compassionate Master Sheng Yen is that he was able to see the husband as more important than the husband himself would imagine. But it also reinforces Master Sheng Yen's idea that 'created by the mind' is not just about idle daydreaming or entertaining thoughts. It is about cultivating relationships with specific beings and projects. I found this to be a different face of Buddhism, one which is more grounded and less 'idealistic' in the classical sense of the term.
Finally, Master Sheng Yen emphasizes the importance of doing good deeds for others, in addition to striving for one's own goals. According to the Buddhist notion of karma, generating good merit is a way to smooth the path toward attaining wholesome goals in life. I think the notion of helping others ties into the theme that we are all interconnected in mysterious and often unknowable ways. The important thing is not to satisfy desire, but to cultivate the right intentions and right reasons for having something. Otherwise, it is just another form of greed, and it doesn't do oneself or others that much good.
Master Sheng Yen, Until We Reach Buddhahood: Lectures on the Surangama Sutra Volume 1, Elmhurst, NY: Dharma Drum Pub
Master Sheng Yen greatly clarifies this subject when he remarks, "we must understand that something in the mind is manifested and then brought into the world. Generally, we begin with a desire for something....It certainly doesn't mean that all you have to do is to wish for something and it will suddenly appear out of thin air. If that were the case, you wouldn't have to work. You'd never have to lift a finger." (p.66). Master Sheng Yen suggests that what happens always manifests as a result of a combination of intentions and conditions. Individuals still need to plant the right intentions into their minds in order to create the right conditions, as well as according to the laws of karma. I believe that the notion of 'creation' that Master Sheng Yen suggests is quite different from a Western notion, which often carries the romanticized legacy that creation is coming from a single being (like Dr. Frankenstein, for example!). Creation is not, at least according to the Buddhist account, something that is done by one person, in one single stretch of time. It is manifest through reaping many conditions, over longer periods of time. Furthermore, intention also requires action and effort. Master Sheng Yen reminds his audience, "if your mind really moves in a particular direction, it will have the tendency to produce action according to the original idea or thought." (p.69) This is quite different from the assumption that one need only manifest the right thoughts to create good results. Thoughts need to lead to specific actions and decisions in order to truly be created by the mind. I find it also interesting that we tend to associate actions as 'external' to the mind, while thoughts are 'inside the mind'. In fact, both are equal parts mind.
Master Sheng Yen elaborates on the importance of forging relationships with a combination of thoughts, intentions and actions, in order for good things to come to fruition. He uses the example of a couple, the husband of whom complains that his wife must love Master Sheng Yen more than he because she scolds her husband and heaps praise on Sheng Yen. Master Sheng Yen reminds the couple that the only reason this is so is that the wife doesn't see Master Sheng Yen on a daily basis, whereas she would see her husband every day. The fact that she sees her husband more means that she would have more for which to scold or criticize. But it also suggests that the husband has more importance in mind, because there's a caring bond that is cultivated there. I found this example wonderful because it shows how compassionate Master Sheng Yen is that he was able to see the husband as more important than the husband himself would imagine. But it also reinforces Master Sheng Yen's idea that 'created by the mind' is not just about idle daydreaming or entertaining thoughts. It is about cultivating relationships with specific beings and projects. I found this to be a different face of Buddhism, one which is more grounded and less 'idealistic' in the classical sense of the term.
Finally, Master Sheng Yen emphasizes the importance of doing good deeds for others, in addition to striving for one's own goals. According to the Buddhist notion of karma, generating good merit is a way to smooth the path toward attaining wholesome goals in life. I think the notion of helping others ties into the theme that we are all interconnected in mysterious and often unknowable ways. The important thing is not to satisfy desire, but to cultivate the right intentions and right reasons for having something. Otherwise, it is just another form of greed, and it doesn't do oneself or others that much good.
Master Sheng Yen, Until We Reach Buddhahood: Lectures on the Surangama Sutra Volume 1, Elmhurst, NY: Dharma Drum Pub
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Moderation
In his commentary on the Surangama Sutra, Master Sheng Yen remarks "With the exception of a few practitioners, people need an emotional life to survive. But we should use our reason to regulate our emotion. Thus, we get consolation from our emotions, yet we do not let our emotions burn us like a consuming flame" (p.44). I was intrigued while reading this passage, because I began to wonder how it is even possible to achieve such a balance in life. Master Sheng Yen uses the following analogy to explain what he means by moderation:
I recently read a poem about rain. The poem suggested that rain conducts a symphony on the roof; throws a party on top of umbrellas; embroiders the streets with beautiful patterns. Rain gives life to all lives; it is life within life. The poem resulted from the poet's feelings. Ordinary people will think of rain as rain; it will be an inconvenience to them. The poet, however, uses his imagination to enliven the rain.
Master Sheng Yen goes on to compare contemplation of the rain with how a person feels love for the beloved. It is not just an act of pure desire but also a kind of ideal that comes from mindfulness of all the rain's qualities. Master Sheng Yen seems to attribute this contemplation of the rain to a combination of emotions and reason. While emotions give a person the understanding of beauty, it's reason that allows those emotions to be articulated in creative and artistic ways. Raw emotion or desire perhaps doesn't have this same quality to it, because it is somewhat crude and overwhelms. But with artful appreciation, many things are possible, and it extends from one thing into other areas of life as well. I am most impressed by the notion that rain starts to become more spiritual as the poet articulates its features. It is as though this poet went beyond the purely sensory notion of rain and its experience is closer to the wisdom that is the universe itself. Rather than simply articulating the rain as a 'thing', this poet managed to find ways to richly contextualize the rain as part of a greater symphony, and breathes life into the metaphor of rain.
Which is more important, emotion or reason? I think both are equally important, but reason tends to be equated with something cold and impersonal, almost scientific. I am almost tempted to replace the word 'reason' with wisdom, to refer to the way things can be seen in ways that illuminate the universe and its interconnection. But without emotion, reason can lose its moorings and start to lose sight of what is most important to humans, or what is most meaningful. The two need to inform each other rather than seem divorced.
Sheng Yen, Until We Reach Buddhahood: :Lectures on the Surangama Sutra Volume 1. Elmhurst NY: Dharma Drum Pub.
I recently read a poem about rain. The poem suggested that rain conducts a symphony on the roof; throws a party on top of umbrellas; embroiders the streets with beautiful patterns. Rain gives life to all lives; it is life within life. The poem resulted from the poet's feelings. Ordinary people will think of rain as rain; it will be an inconvenience to them. The poet, however, uses his imagination to enliven the rain.
Master Sheng Yen goes on to compare contemplation of the rain with how a person feels love for the beloved. It is not just an act of pure desire but also a kind of ideal that comes from mindfulness of all the rain's qualities. Master Sheng Yen seems to attribute this contemplation of the rain to a combination of emotions and reason. While emotions give a person the understanding of beauty, it's reason that allows those emotions to be articulated in creative and artistic ways. Raw emotion or desire perhaps doesn't have this same quality to it, because it is somewhat crude and overwhelms. But with artful appreciation, many things are possible, and it extends from one thing into other areas of life as well. I am most impressed by the notion that rain starts to become more spiritual as the poet articulates its features. It is as though this poet went beyond the purely sensory notion of rain and its experience is closer to the wisdom that is the universe itself. Rather than simply articulating the rain as a 'thing', this poet managed to find ways to richly contextualize the rain as part of a greater symphony, and breathes life into the metaphor of rain.
Which is more important, emotion or reason? I think both are equally important, but reason tends to be equated with something cold and impersonal, almost scientific. I am almost tempted to replace the word 'reason' with wisdom, to refer to the way things can be seen in ways that illuminate the universe and its interconnection. But without emotion, reason can lose its moorings and start to lose sight of what is most important to humans, or what is most meaningful. The two need to inform each other rather than seem divorced.
Sheng Yen, Until We Reach Buddhahood: :Lectures on the Surangama Sutra Volume 1. Elmhurst NY: Dharma Drum Pub.
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