The Jewel in the Garment

 The jewel in the garment analogy is one of my favorites in Chan Buddhism. Master Boshan certainly does utilize it in his text when he notes, "In the midst of stillness, we must discover this precious thing hidden under the lining of the garment." (from Attaining the Way, p.8). What does this precious jewel mean, and why does Master Boshan jump to this discussion after he has already exhorted practitioners not to settle into quiescence?

   Perhaps what is being meant here is that the precious jewel is already with us in each and every moment, and all we need to do is realize it through a practice of dropping all attachments to whatever is happening now. This is a kind of radical acceptance, which is not to be confused with affirming or even "liking" what is happening in the present moment. The "silence" within the stillness refers to the fact that even in the midst of our busy lives, our mind is already in a state of stillness, meaning that it isn't really moving at all, any more than the substance of water itself is "moved" by the waves. Water is water, regardless of the size or magnitude of the waves. In the same respect, we cannot speak of moving mind when there is movement around us, because the mind is not actually moving with the phenomena. So, to discover the precious jewel is to be aware that the mind we use to see movement, busyness, vexations and all the changes around us is precisely the mind that is truly unmoving. 

What this means is that it is not necessary to run away from a busy life. We can engage it but in a relaxing way, knowing that this stirring is created by ourselves. When I realize this , my mind is able to be more with each moment rather than rushing to the next, knowing that in fact every single moment is the perfect, illuminating mind. There is no rush to "gain" or "grasp" something that is ever present, because we are no longer identified with some future self or image of an enlightened being.

What "True" Silence Is?

  True silence, what is it? To go back to my previous entry, I believe true silence is truly allowing. Allowing all the energies to come through the body, and not getting into any kind of state of conflict or resistance to what is happening. But this requires a certain skill in letting go, and it takes a long time to hone on it. In fact, it counters the tendency to see things as having solidity because of the habits we feed.

   Let's use a concrete example. Whenever I see something, a lot of thoughts come to my mind related to it. Some of these thoughts are pleasant, some are unpleasant, and when I interact with the object, I start to form an assessment regarding whether I like or dislike it. This then shapes how I interact with it in the future. It shapes my sense of wanting or avoiding, liking or disliking. And more importantly, I start to create a sense of a separate self or I from that.

   But let's reverse this situation and say: what if, instead of creating pockets of resistance or desire around those thoughts, I allowed the thoughts to be what they are, just as they are, like waves in the ocean? What if, instead of seeing those thoughts as relating to solid things, I simply held those thoughts gently in mind, the way we might hold a fragile bird when we are feeding it? Then, instead of believing that I interact with solid "forms" that are permanent, I can see that they are just impermanent waves. The wave of an ocean can be seen, but it cannot be held forever, and when we try to hold it, it becomes elusive.

  This way of seeing is quite different from what we are used to. We are used to seeing the people around us as separate "bodies", meaning that we project a three-dimensional reality onto them. Instead of seeing the mind, we get attached to the forms, and these forms become objects of desire or, conversely, resistance. Not only this, but we even strive to overcome the tendency to solidify things. But this, too, depends on a belief that thoughts are "solid" and "real" when they don't have such kind of reality. That is, even when I have the thought of solidity, this doesn't make it solid. Nothing is actually solid at all, so there is no need to separate our thoughts to the point where they are these aggregates. 

Dangers of Quietude

 In Attaining the Way, we read the following from Master Boshan: "the most fearful thing is to settle into a state of stagnation and attach to quiescence, becoming dry and lifeless, unknowing and ignorant, and detesting activity while taking pleasure in quietude". He then compares quietude with the dangers of "eating honey and candy". (p.8). I think the most crucial thing here is that we should not become attached to quiet to the point where we no longer function in the world. Quietude can be too easy, because we stop searching--stop wondering why we are really in the world, and who we are prior to all the cogitations and thoughts. 

  I have to say that this piece of advice works well when people are attached to quiet of solitary retreats, but there is the caveat that most people are living in a world of noise, in the form of everyday distractions, temptations, multimedia and the like. So I think the danger of most people nowadays is too many choices and way too many interruptions. The attraction of quietude may not be all that bad, because it encourages the mind to be simpler and to focus on the here and now. For this reason, I don't see why quietude cannot be pursued in some small measure at least in the beginning of practice. However, I can also see how quietude can become addictive, habitual, and a kind of shield from the busyness of life. In fact, we can find quietude in the midst of the everyday, because each moment is already unborn, unmade and does not die. When we are truly at peace with every moment, we don't need to wait for special times of quiet to become quiet. Things are already inherently quiet. 

Admiration, Respect, Envy

  During Fashi's discussion about FOMO (fear of missing out) today, a thought came to my mind. While the solution to FOMO is to replace arrogance with confidence, I wondered: what's the line between admiration and losing oneself to someone one admires? Too much admiration of and comparison with others can lead to negative attitudes: "I can't possibly be like this person" or "I am nothing without this person". These attitudes can lead to idolizing a person, or (on the negative side) resenting the other for their accomplishments. I did wonder how the theory of causes and conditions addresses this, as Fashi discussed in his talk.

   Regarding cause and conditions, it seems that the idea of previous lives best addresses the problems of envy and excessive admiration. I encounter many people who are way smarter than myself, and I begin to wonder, "what's the magic strategy that allows them to be that way? Can I learn it from them?" It's perhaps better to say that their abilities are the combination of hard-won experience, inborn abilities, and   past life merits. Rather than wanting their abilities, I had better focus on what merits I can accumulate for myself, with focus on developing character traits such as the 6 paramitas.

What I have realized in working with people who are extremely talented is that there are some things we can certainly learn from them. However, perhaps it's not a good idea to think we can be that person just through imitating them. It might be better to evaluate how the other person's abilities is the result of many previous causes and conditions that may even extend beyond a single lifetime. In this way, I am taking a more realistic approach to figuring out what I am capable of learning from another, without going to the extreme of feeling I need to emulate them. Balance also plays an important role here. Just as I should see my encounters with others as opportunities to learn something new, so also I should recognize the abilities that I bring to the encounter. This avoids the dangers of being afraid of missing something that we feel we lack.

Who Feels Pain?

    The problem of pain, whether it's the simple physical exhaustion of  a workout, can always be resolved by deciding that there is no "person" who feels pain. It might even involve analyzing the pain to see if the sensation itself is truly permanent. However, I get the sense that, for people who suffer illness or chronic pain, the problem isn't simply one of noticing a pain and getting attached to it. Rather, it has more to do with a hidden expectation that we would function much more effectively and even be happier in the absence of this pain. Behind the fear and suffering of pain is the sense of shame, as in "I shouldn't be feeling this way", or "there is something wrong with me that I feel this way". So, again, the suffering of pain comes down to an attachment to the notion of a self who feels pain.

  If one doesn't have the courage to question who is feeling pain, it's likely that a certain kind of habitual reaction will kick in. And I think that by taking a more analytic approach to pain, one will see that there is not a single traceable subject who is identified with that pain. In fact, from the perspective of a primordial kind of awareness, there is no distinct subject who really feels pain. There is no I in it at all; one is merely attaching to words such as self, pain, etc.

   Jon Kabat Zinn has worked with a lot of chronic pain sufferers, which he recounts in the book Full Catastrophic Living. The gist of it is, as he remarks, nobody has it "all together", and so sometimes we have to turn toward what we are and what we can offer in the given moment, even if it may merely be one's presence, one's embodiment or the honest effort to face reality fully and plainly. This can certainly help those who are stigmatized for disabilities.

Grace in Buddhism

  In Christianity, there is a lot of talk about grace, but I wonder if this quality actually means anything in Buddhism. When we say "grace", we often think of feeling thankful for a provider, a giver or some creator being who has special powers to bless us. While there certainly are beings who provide us with blessings in Buddhism (Dharma protectors and the like), this is not considered to replace karma. In fact, nobody can ever replace another person's karma, so there is no such thing as "grace" or "gratuity" from this perspective.

   However, in Buddhism, we have the notion of emptiness--which, in my opinion, counts in a weird way as a form of grace. To be empty means that there is no final judgment or evaluation on what we do, or who we are, in any given moment, because good and bad actions are not forever. I may do something terrible one day, but then the next I am able to redeem myself through improved or corrected actions. The very fact that the mind is capable of improving on its previous mistakes is evidence that emptiness is a kind of grace in the world. Otherwise, a mistake we made ten years ago would still reverberate just like the day it was committed.

   Grace is not a free ticket by any means, but it helps to sometimes reflect that our thoughts--however dire they are--are only temporary phenomena, and what they relate to is bound to change. No matter how terribly bad something may seem, at the end of the day, it is but one of many thoughts we happen to have. So I think in this regard, it's important to reflect on how wonderful it is to live in an empty world where change is possible.

Great Doubt, Great Enlightenment

 "The ancient worthies said: "Great doubt, great enlightenment; small doubt, small enlightenment; no doubt, no enlightenment" (Master Boshan, from Master Sheng Yen, Attaining the Way, p.8)

What is great doubt? I think it's hard to achieve. One has to doubt the very foundation for how they make sense of the world. A good example, I believe, is how we look to objects to validate our awareness. Zen gardens play on this idea by presenting a few very minimal rocks positioned over sand. The minimalism reminds us; there is more to life than objects, in fact, there is something that points beyond all objects. But because objects confirm our sense of self, we cling to them and grasp them. 

What would it be like, then, to experience the world not from a subject-object view, but from the perspective of simple awareness? The important point here is allowing objects to arise into mind and then disappear in the same way that they arose. This leads to a state of ease that takes precedence over trying to solidify the world in terms of an absolute inner and outer. It also leads to a more porous state of being. There is really no distinct inner and outer after all.

The quest for certainty can often sabotage the doubt experience. I can easily get distracted by all the lists of things to do, rather than resting in the state of mind that is not dependent on any subject or object. But this does not mean suppress or deny the formation of objects. In fact, subject and object formation is the natural function of mind, same as when a mirror reflects images and light. The point is to be aware that the subject and object is a function of the mind, nothing more. It is not a reified self or other that actually exist independently of mind. 

It's truly hard to rest in this state of mind due to habitual identification with things as things. This is why we must continually practice doubting the sense of "I" and uprooting it through questioning, "who thinks?" "Who feels?" Is this self something substantial and, if so, where is it? How does it arise? Yet, there is no need to suppress the objects of the mind to see how this functions or works.