Reducing Self Centeredness

  In Tea Words: Early Chan Lectures in America (2013), Master Sheng Yen distinguishes between "true" and "false" mind:"False mind is the state of ordinary sentient beings; it is the mind that suffers vexations arising from a self-centered view of the world. True mind is a mind free of vexations, a mind of wisdom" (p.7). This part of Master Sheng Yen's teachings suggests that "true" and "false" are related to a certain attitude one takes toward phenomena, not the phenomena itself. To use a simple example: my seeing a garden hose and confusing it for a snake is not necessarily in itself a sign of "false" mind. If I am not attached to either the phenomena or "garden hose" or "snake", then in fact the phenomena could be one or the other, and I don't suffer attachment or vexation as a result. If on the other hand, I am heavily invested in avoiding the snake (hatred) or thirsting after water from a garden hose (greed) then no matter whether it turns out to be a garden hose or a snake, I am approaching the phenomena with an attitude of self-attachment. In this sense, false mind arises to approach that phenomena.
   Another analogy I might think of to flesh out the example is that of being in a dream. Some people clearly don't know they are dreaming: you can see them tossing and turning in their bed and behaving as though they are "running away" from something that is only really arising in their consciousness. On the other hand, there are some moments when a person is truly knowing they are in a dream. One dream that I had very recently turned out to be so ridiculous (something about losing my knapsack in a crowded place) that I had to conclude that surely it must be a dream (why would I leave my knapsack anywhere when it's always attached to me everywhere I go?). In these moments, a person usually awakens from the dream because they are no longer engaged in it or invested in the self as a dreamer. I have had similar experiences where I dreamed that someone was shooting at me with a gun, only to reflect: "this surely isn't really happening to me; it's too crazy or improbable". In that moment, sure enough, I did wake up!
   Master Sheng Yen continues: "true mind arises when the mind is totally free from self centeredness; at this point it is no longer subject to the vexations of ordinary human consciousness" (p.7). This means, for me, that self-centredness is the root of vexations, not phenomena itself. If I am not attaching any labels or significance to what is arising in mind (such as "I like this" or "I don't like this"), then in actuality I am no longer pushed or pulled by the phenomena itself. It's not related to a central self anymore. This is not easy but sometimes I do experience it in the form of no longer attaching any significance or meaning to what I am doing or experiencing in groups. Regardless of whether a person is happy with me or not, my reaction to it is based on how attached I feel to a sense of self. If I find ways to challenge and experience something beyond the fragile sense of self, then I am more aware of something that is not subject to birth or death, and confidence then arises.

Sheng Yen (2013), Tea Words Volume Two. Elmhurst NY: Chan Meditation Center.

Multicultural Ways of Seeing

What would a multicultural way of being look like? I am sketching a few ideas about this, but what I am proposing is something like a "deep ecology" of multiculturalism: a kind of way of looking at diversity that is challenging to one's beliefs in one's own culture as well as open to learning the ways of others. How, more significantly, might meditation play a role in cultivating such a culture?
   In the group sitting today, I pointed out the idea that the open windows allow a lot of air to blow in, as well as sounds outside. One can either view the sounds and the air as obstructions or just as "things coming and going"---and in this regard, the room itself can be a reflection of mind. Is it possible that multicultural society can also be a way of thinking that challenges the notion of a fixed identity that possesses power and privilege over others? Can seeing the world as comprised of difference perhaps be a meditation itself?
   I don't know the answers to these questions but I would like to suggest that being vulnerable to listening to others' sharing their experiences is a very good way to understand how to think "multiculturally": to see past the veil of prejudice that we often assume from our collective cultures. Seeing without judgment (a hallmark of meditation and mindfulness) is also a good way of cultivating a sustained openness to others' voices, while questioning one's own identity. How, then, can these two perspectives (meditative and multicultural) be combined into one single way of being? This is a question I am wrestling with.

walking with tension

 Walking home from work tonight, I reflected on how being present with one's body is not about experiencing things "smoothly" but rather, being truly present with all those tensions. Why is this hard to do, at times? I think it's because a lot of times, a person whose body feels tense will associate the tension with thoughts they are having in that moment. It leads me to wonder, does "tension" even exist in the absence of any thoughts? The tension we experience due to stress and exhaustion is often at least exacerbated by one's thoughts. The more radical view is that tension is perhaps entirely the result of thinking! That may be partly true but it doesn't explain why a person feels more tired at certain parts of the day than others. Perhaps one has accumulated many thoughts over the course of a day?
   I have also reflected that it's important to make space for compassion when one feels tense or exhausted. That compassion doesn't add to one's tension by insisting that they should not be tense. On the contrary, there is a felt sense that even the tension is deeply allowable and embraceable just the way it is. This is not about taking a neutral stance on the pain itself but joyfully allowing it to emerge and even embracing it at times. This allows a different way of relating to the phenomena which is much more spacious and less "divided" within oneself.

Hard Work Pays Off?

 I am thinking about the importance of effort, and whether or not it guarantees success if a person works hard. This might seem a no-brainer, since we are socialized into believing that our hard work pays off. But it's not at all necessarily true, and there is something a little bit dangerous about making assumptions that efforts lead to "good results" all the time. But as Buddhist teachings suggest, efforts don't just go to waste; eventually the efforts lead to some kind of result in a future time, whether tangible or not. Sometimes the "intangible" results are the most precious.
   Examples of intangible results of effort include the ability to discover oneself, cultivate patience and stick to something closely and carefully. These skills and habits are a lifetime of joy, and they prevent a person from going into all kinds of unwholesome states of mind and situations. Without effort of some kind, whether it be work or art, volunteer or family, would these kinds of discoveries be possible? Probably not, since even meditating without any of these things requires some kind of effort. I am not referring to a kind of forceful or strenuous effort but more like a consistent flow of energy, the way a current of electricity is consistently applied to create a current.
   I think that effort does have a good effect, but it always needs to be supplemented by some faith that one is doing something meaningful. Faith comes not from wanting something in the near future, but from cherishing the meaning of what one is doing now. This is the difference between a faith that is consistent with the present and a blind faith that strives for a future that never is.

reflecting on emptiness

 During the group discussion after meditation, we talked about the value of reflecting on the Five Skahandas and emptiness. Why would it be so important to do so? I think the answer is that doing so prepares a person for the inevitable surprises in life. My "status" as a person is always changing according to the times, and there is certainly no guarantee that what I have earned today is going to stay with me all the time.
   Emptiness is an opening into mystery, and reflecting on the emptiness of all things is actually an invitation to be more curious and fully aware of all these changes that are happening all the time. It's certainly not an invitation to stop trying! After all, what we find in the future is the results of what we are doing moment to moment in this time. But at the same time, there are times when there is simply nothing that needs doing, and those moments do need to be appreciated as well.
   Emptiness is not always about losing: it's being prepared for change. I only see something as a loss when I focus on deficit, rather than seeing that all loss is simply a shift into something else, a kind of transition state where what I once was sure of is less  sure. There is no harm in that, and it can be a healthy way to keep me on my toes.

Taoist Ideas in Life

I am not considering myself as an expert in "Tao" but I have been reflecting recently on the chapter in Master Sheng Yen's Chan and Enlightenment which has Taoist themes. I have also been thinking of my reading of Capra's Tao of Physics, where he describes Tao as a kind of balance of different energies, some active while others subtle and mysterious. I believe that a lot of the spirit of Tao can be used as a way of looking at life. But again, as anyone steeped in Tao might suggest, how a person uses Tao might depend on what part of the balance they are on.
  I think what attracts me to Tao is that idea of balance, which I am so fond of in my own personal narrative. Much of my blog at some point or another talks about "balance", and I believe this has a lot to do with making sure that one is not going from one extreme or another. To take a simple example: if I am trying too hard to study to "become" something or to achieve a certain goal quickly, I will get very tense and start to distract myself as a result of that tension. It is as though one were compensating for all the tension one creates in concentrating by introducing some pleasurable distraction. This does happen to me a lot when I am forcing myself to solve a problem for which I have no solution at hand: it is as though my mind were "turning on the sprinklers" to stop myself from becoming overheated with thought. On the other hand, one doesn't want to have too much passivity, since this leads to a less engaged way of interacting in the world. How to strike that balance is quite mysterious in itself, but I sometimes feel like the paradigm of having a balance is a good place to start in this regard.
   Knowing that there is a place for tension and conflict in life can also be a helpful way of looking at balance. If things are too smooth, what is not being acknowledged? I begin to feel that whenever my perspectives or ideas are too smooth, chances are that something is missing there.
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Equanimity

 I have been reflecting recently about how spiritual life goes through different phases. Sometimes a person has a very profound experience where they feel transported out of the world and into a kind of heaven, while other times, one is simply abiding in the spiritual practice of everyday. But the challenge is to come to a point where these highs and lows are no longer seen as distinct. They are just ripples from the same source.
 
 I observe in myself a tendency to "do more", but when I am in a situation where I am not sure about what I should or shouldn't be doing, anxiety arises. This anxiety in the face of uncertainty is quite interesting: rather than allowing me to cultivate equanimity, it keeps pushing me into a state of fearing for my own existence. It sometimes helps to go the other way especially if the pain of not being able to do more is too strong: that is, to actually do nothing and see what happens. Does one "die" when one has "nothing to do" and "no role to play" or does life simply carry on? In knowing that life does in fact "carry on" without me always having to step forward, what effect does that have? In a word, and quite simply, it allows me to relax more into the conflict of not always knowing "what is to be done". It just might even allow me to focus on what really needs doing rather than putting me in an endless cycle of having to do things to please the others or to fulfill my sense of being okay with others.