The Worst Sit Ever

No exaggeration. Well, barely. My wife and I joined our sitting group yesterday morning for our usual Sunday hour-long sit, and I had what has to count as my worst sit ever--and I've been doing this for fifteen years! Perhaps some of my meditating friends out there could help me with their insights.

Here's how it went: I noticed something "wrong" from the start. It usually takes me no more than a few breaths to get settled in, to slow down to meditation speed. Yesterday, though--and for no discernible reason--my heart was pounding at an unusual rate and my breath was jerky and uneven. I tried the usual tactics. Keep breathing, watch the breath. I moved on into metta, the goodwill practice, first for myself, then for family and close friends--I went through all the usual faces--then those I don't know and have no judgment about one way or the other, those I dislike or distrust, those in power, those without it, who are suffering from hunger, disease, or violence. My mind kept wandering, nowhere in particular, and my body was inordinately restless. Legs, arms, neck... I did my best to bring some rest to them with the breath. No luck.

Undeterred, I moved on to my body scan, starting at the centerpoint and working through the abdomen, the flanks, chest and heart, neck, head... and down the back to the legs and down from the shoulders to the fingertips. I could NOT get settled. Neither mind nor body. I ached, literally, to be out of there. Several times, I nearly got up and left. I resorted to measuring the passing minutes against the breath, and every minute seemed like a half-hour. It wasn't as though there was anything particular on my mind--not that I could identify, though I resisted trying to identify it.

Then came the panic. This was perhaps forty minutes into the sit. It manifested first in the form of body heat. I felt my body begin to burn, a kind of fever which intensified into a sweating anxiety. My head kept saying, gotta get out of here. NOW. Fighting the panic, of course, results only in more panic. I had to MOVE. I found small ways to release the tension, a shift in the position of the legs, a slight stretch of the neck. Small comfort. My head began to go into black-out mode... Fearing that I would quite literally and imminently pass out, I leaned forward, placing my head between my knees.

Then it was over. For perhaps no more than the last five minutes of that long, long hour, I managed to find a place of serenity. I began to breathe easy. I managed to let go of everything that had gone before. My mind was content to accept stillness and peace. Then the bell rang. I was never so happy to hear that mellow sound...

I wonder, then, if any of my fellow meditators have had similar experiences? I have, in truth, had minor episodes of this kind in the past--particularly the body heat and, of course, the struggle with the mind and the breath. But never this intense, or this prolonged. I wonder to what extent it might have to do with our current global malaise, about which I'll be posting more tomorrow on my blog, The Buddha Diaries. Have you been losing sleep?

The End of the Buddha-Dharma: or "demythologizing numbers"

I have heard many scholars debating the meaning and so-called "prophesy" of the Buddha, who claimed that his Dharma, or teaching, would last only 500 years (later revised to 5000). In fact I had a class once in which a student tried to 'calculate' the end of the world based on the 5000 year cut in half prediction (and it was coming soon!).

This is especially discussed in light of his other controversial claim, that the life of the Dharma would be cut in half when he began ordaining women.

But all of the academic speculation seems quite beside the point as I read today in the Rhys-Davids and Stede Pali Dictionary that:

Note. When Gotama said that his "religion" would last 500 years he meant that it would last a very long time, practically for ever. The later change of 500 to 5,000 is immaterial to the meaning of the expression, it only indicates a later period (cp. 5,000 in Nibelungeniled for 500, also 5,000 men in ambush Joshua 8. 12; converted by Peter Acts 4. 4; fed by Christ with 5 loaves Matthew 14. 21). Still more impressive than 500 is the expression 5 Koṭis (5 times 100,000 or 10 million), which belongs to a comparatively later period, e. g. at DhA i.62 (ariya -- sāvaka -- koṭiyo), 256 (˚mattā -- ariyasāvakā); iv.190 (p. koti -- mattā ariya -- sāvakā).

I've read several accounts showing that the number 84 (84,000, 84,000,000, etc) is similarly of mythical significance in ancient India. Likewise, in a recent Journal of Buddhist Ethics paper, Charles Prebish points out that the number 100 was probably at least at times used as a mere approximation.

But this is the first I had heard of a similar clarification in regard to the 500/5000 years issue. Very interesting...

* image from Kit's Bits.

Texas Holdem Poker and Buddhism

No limit Texas holdem is considered by many to be the 'Cadillac' of poker. It certainly has become a very popular past time/sport in the last 5 years. The reason? The skill involved in being able to read another player's motives, not by words, but just watching and observing. In poker, we call this a tell; 'a usually unconscious bodily movement or gesture that gives away the players hand strength or motive'.

I have enjoyed playing in a few home games over the last couple of years and found my ability to meditate on other players movements and tics has been of great benefit when it comes to the game. In Texas Holdem, its said you play the player and not the cards, and this is true, not only for poker, but in a metaphorical sense for life as well.

In Zen, many times you'll hear teachers and masters talking about communications without words. When we can learn to listen to the motives and intentions of not only others, but our own mind, we can begin to lift the fog of Samsara. I know we have all experienced this in our lives many times, that one person you know very well, whose look can give you the message without a single word. I know my ex-wife had that look and my mother too. Wait....I'm sensing a connection here...but I digress.

Perhaps, if we can learn to be present and observational, we can learn to listen to the communication of the unspoken. It is said 80% of communication is done via body language or tone of voice rather than the words themselves. I think that number is much closer to 100% if we care to listen close enough to the universal language of the unspoken.

Or, I could be bluffing.

Morphology of Western Buddhism

Buddhism has changed every time it has entered a new culture. However, we can justifiably say that in its meeting with modern Western culture, Buddhism is at a unique crossroads in its history for several reasons:

• For the first time in it's history, all the various strands of Buddhism are able to be examined and compared together.
• Sophisticated scholarship and archaeology allow us to accurately identify what the original teaching's of Buddha probably were and trace their evolution.
• Science and psychotherpeutic theory are much more advanced than they were in Buddha's time and can now be applied to his teachings.

For many years there has been a debate within Western Buddhism as to what extent the dharma should be kept traditional and to what extent it should be adapted to western culture. Is the dharma already perfect and in no need of change? To what extent are cultural trappings superficial and unnecessary? Are all religions essentially the same? Is Buddhism essentially a sort of therapy?

Answers range from the very traditional to the radically reformed. It's like watching Darwin's finch arriving on the Galápagos Islands and seeing it evolve into many specialised species. I suspect that the question is no longer 'what form will Buddhism take in the west?' , but 'how many forms will Buddhism take in the West?'.

Here are a few examples, skewed by my greater knowledge of Zen than other schools. Please share any more examples types you can think of and I'll add them here.

Conservative
Keeping things as traditional as possible.

Association Zen Internationale:
Traditional dress and ceremony preserved, content sometimes liberalised into therapeutic or Judeo-Christian language.

San Franscisco Zen Centre:
As above, slightly more liberal.

Reformist
Some modification of teachings and/or form.

Dogen Sangha International:
Ceremony and precepts largely dropped. Zazen-only focus. Some integrative theorising. Reform begun in Japan. Brad Warner combines some Buddhist thought with punk counter-culture.

Throssel Hole
Teachings and ceremony integrated with Judeo-Christian concepts and culture

Buddhist Syncretism
In spite of their various expressions, all forms of Buddhism are essentially the same and can be largely taught as a whole.

Friends of the Western Buddhist Order

Western Insight Meditation/Vipassana Movement:
Rooted in the Theravadin Thai Forest and Burmese traditions, liberal, primarily a lay-led movement (no ordination of monks). Leaders include Jack Kornfield, Joseph Goldstein, and Sharon Salzburg.

Integral Movement/Spiritual Syncretism
All or most religious, spiritual and psychological thought are all ways of talking about the same thing and can be integrated into one philosophy. This approach is often associated with New Age thinking.

Ken Wilbur

Eckart Tolle
Tolle is essentially informal accessible zen without formal meditation, using Judeo-Christian, New Age and Psychotherapeutic language

Therapeutic Adoption
Buddhist techniques have been shown to have a positive effect on depression, stress, anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Using a religious format is not necessary.

Mindfulness Based Cognitive Therapy
Combined with cognitive behavioural therapy, mindfulness meditation (which is essentially the same as Zazen) is used to treat long-term depression and other issues. Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction is another variant. Religious/spiritual language is absent. Philosophical content, while close to Buddhism, is adapted and reformulated.

Not Now

I was sitting in meditation with members of our sangha yesterday and struggling with an unusually busy mind. I once asked Thanissaro Bhikkhu for his wisdom on the scattered mind and he advised me to tell myself: "Not now..." A simple instruction, yes. But as with all things simple, I have found that it's easier said than done.

Here's the thing: as a writer, I find that the silence and concentration involved in meditation provide me with an ideal time to "write"--not with the pen, of course, but in the head. And because it's in the head and I want to remember each brilliant construction before it recedes into oblivion, I find myself writing and rewriting every phrase a dozen times, committing it to memory to insure that I'll have it ready to write down when I'm done. This leads me inevitably into an obsessive cycle of thought--and out of meditation.

"Not now." What a simple and obvious thing to tell the mind when it gets into this state. And in fact, when I manage to listen to myself and simply postpone the work I got engaged in, I find that the work has been continued somewhere in the unconscious mind and is ready, waiting for me, when I choose to return to it. It's a matter of trust, then, that whatever it is that's engaging me will not be lost--unless, of course, it was so trivial that it need not have engaged me in the first place. Which is, regrettably, all too often the case.

It's the same with worrying and planning--both activities that address a future I am not empowered to know, let alone to determine. It's the kind of futile work the mind delights in, teasing itself with alternate scenarios until it whirls, hopelessly lost in the activity it has created. My mind, as it turns out, does not much like "Not now." It resists, insists, persists. Time and again I bring my attention dutifully back to the breath, and time and again the mind gets back to its wandering. When--and if--I manage to quiet it, though, what a comfort it is, what a relief! To drop back into the simple awareness of the body and its breathing, the ambient sounds and the attendant sensations. When--and if--I manage to bring myself into the present.

Why, I often ask myself, should it be so hard, when the result is so incontestably pleasant? When what awaits me is a kind of ecstasy, or at the very least, an inner calm? I suppose that my mind has been trained since childhood to believe that it should be "doing something," that idleness is somehow reprehensible.

Then there's the horror vacui (I googled the familiar words, to be sure I had the Latin spelling right, and to my surprise I came upon this wonderful painting by the self-taught artist Adolf Woeffli...


... no vacuum there; but I digress)--the "natural" abhorrence of the vacuum, an emptiness too frightening to contemplate. So the mind does its work. It creates structures of words and images, it noodles with the unknowable and flirts with risks and challenges yet to be realized. It considers this action to be its sacred duty, and sulks or sinks into "boredom" when deprived. It thumbs its nose at "Not now" and tells me to get lost. Which I promptly do.

Ah, yes. "Not now." Such a concept, such a challenge. And, when heeded, such a release! The wisdom of "Not now" is not limited, of course, to meditation. I often reflect on how much the quality of my daily life might be improved if I could just stay present to what is happening in the present, and quit worrying about things over which I have no control--such as the future, or the past.

The Universal Religion: Part 2, The Limits of Universalism

Religion of course can be very divisive. As Richard Dawkins says it can inspire people to murder others because they have a barely distinguishable belief system. I don't agree with Dawkins that religion itself is a primary cause of violence, it is simply one more label by which we define tribal in-groups and out-groups - any ideology or physical difference will do just as well. In religion, emphasising commonality can bring people together, while emphasising difference has a danger of increasing hostility. On the other hand, by lumping everything together and glibly saying that it is all the same, we can muddy the water and distort the meaning of religions. And even if we can help bring religions together we do so at the risk of defining an in-group of religious people and an out-group of non-religions people.

I recently went on an interfaith peace march. In the current climate it seemed like a worthwhile cause, even if Oxford isn't exactly a religions warzone. It's hardly the Gaza Strip. I must admit that I felt a bit awkward - I've never done anything like that before, because I've never thought of myself as a religious person. But hey, Zen is technically a religion and I thought it was worth showing my face. It was good that all these different faiths were able to march in unity for the same cause and the speeches that were given, of course encouraged unity by emphasising common ground. But, I wondered at the way in which it seemed to exclude anyone who didn't have religious beliefs.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We all believe in the same God..."
(Damn it the Hindus!)
"...We all believe in a Creator God..."
(darn! - Buddhists !)
"...We all have Religious Belief..."
(What are those Zen bastards doing here?!)
"...Well, at least we're not atheists!"

To say that 'all religions are essentially the same' is all very well, but what about polytheistic religions? What about the fact that Buddhists don't have a belief in God or in any transcendent absolute? What about religions which emphasise the ego such as Laveyan Satanism? What about non-religious 'peak experiences'. What about secular philosophies? What about ordinary life? We are always creating a perimeter somewhere. Attempting to find the unity of religion, Universalists expand the terriritory of 'the sacred' - the 'in-group' - but always leave an 'out-group'. Instead of finding unity, they are merely moving the borders of duality. Instead of dividing the world into Islam, Christianity, Buddhism etc, it divides the world into believers and non-believers, divine and profane, good and evil. How can we transcend all in-groups and out-groups and find a sense of the truly universal?

And in finding this common religious ground, there is also a strong temptation to bend the meaning of other faiths so that they fit into our conceptual (and dualistic) framework. Now I have a lot of respect for Baha'i - if I was to be a theist of any sort I'd probably be a Baha'i. Similarly, I hope my perception of Pure Land Buddhism isn't offensive to anyone. And I don't want to generalise from a single case, but I came across Baha'i online recently who was interested in learning more about Buddhism. It was no surprise that the branch they were most interested in was Pure Land. Pure Land is a populist, non-monastic strand of Buddhism aimed at ordinary lay practitioners. It is very dualistic in it's teachings, and is remarkably similar to the Abrahamic religions in form - salvation is gained not through personal practice but in faith in higher powers. Nirvana is characterised as the 'Pure Land' - almost exactly the same as the celestial realms of Hinduism and the Abrahamic faiths - a great example of convergent memetic evolution methinks - Richard Dawkins and Susan Blackmore would be delighted.

Why Buddhism doesn't quite fit

The majority of religions teach some sort of substantialism, which is inevitably dualistic - the world is divided into mind/matter, man/God, Atman/Brahma, sacred/profane, good/evil and so forth. They posit a transcendent power which is utterly distinct from ourselves and with which possibly in moments of mystical union we somehow become merged or receive communion with. Belief in the existence of a 'cosmic other' is something that has to be maintained by faith. Mystical 'union with the absolute' (if the faith allows such a thing) is a metaphysical event - the union of the substances of the human soul and of 'God'. They posit an eternal soul substance which corresponds to our sense of continuing personal identity. They reject the message of materialism, that our identity is produced by temporary physical form which is extinguished on death. Buddhism rejects both of these views as being based on the mistake of taking a conventional truth (identity) for an ultimate one (an immortal soul or a real self somehow arising from a temporary brain state).

Buddhism differs from other religions - apart from Taoism I think - in that there is no transcendent power - the mundane and the divine are not two, mind and matter are not two. Nirvana is not a separate realm from samsara; Buddha Nature is not separate from ordinary life. Buddhism teaches sunyata, or emptiness rather than divine substantialism. Buddhism teaches, not only the unity of 'the Divine', but the unity of the Profane with the Divine; not only the unity of religion, but the unity of religion with non-religion; not only the unity of man, but the unity of man, animals and inanimate objects; even the unity of unity and non-unity. Unity itself is not separate from non-unity - form (the relative, mundane) is not different from emptiness (the ultimate or universal nature of reality).

The union of man with the transcendent or divine is not a metaphysical event in Buddhism, nor is it even the collapse of a real duality. It is just the realisation that there never was a separation between the ordinary and the universal in the first place. It is the dropping of mentally created distinctions which had been taken as real dualities. The very duality between relative (man) and ultimate (God) is a constructed convention of the human mind.

But even to create a duality between dualism and non-dualism is more dualism. Experiences of the emptiness or unity of all things, which is seen in contrast to the ordinary dualistic world are regarded in Buddhism as incomplete because a non-dualism which exists in contrast to dualism is itself a dualistic viewpoint. Genuine non-dualism includes dualism, non-dualism, sacred, profane, God and non-God - nothing is excluded. Nirvana is the opposite samsara only from the perspective of those in samsara. Nothing is excluded. The point is that distinctions are real but only conventionally real, ultimately nothing is separate. To create a distinction between the conventional and the ultimate is again, conventional truth, ultimately there is no distinction. Nothing can be stated which is not conventional truth. This is why many Buddhist teachings appear dualistic in a way similar to other religions.

The barrier between self and cosmos in Buddhism is not a real physical or metaphysical separation or wall, it is a mental fabrication maintained by ourselves. At the moment of satori we fully realise its fabricated nature, we realise that there is no barrier to cross, nothing to attain.

This post was originally published in my personal blog in 2007.

How do we Change?

All change comes from within. I think the easiest way to change the reality around us is to change ourself. The words we may speak when talking with someone can mean something completely different to someone else. I think this is why talking, with someone, about religion or politics can be difficult. Instead, maybe we can try talking about the issues that we face.

I feel that it is impossible to change the world around us, with words, actions, or thoughts. However, I think that the reality we see everyday, is a mirror reflection of our mind. That is why, we should invest, and believe, in ourselves first and foremost. I think that this is also why, helping others, also helps ourself. I have asked the archangels to help me understand more clearly, and I feel that I am. I have asked the archangels to help me see and understand the universe more clearly, and I feel that I do.

The meaning of words is a matter of perspective. I think that each of us assign the meaning of words based upon our experiences in life. We all have a different path up the same mountain. So what any given word means will vary from person to person. I think this is why what I hear from what a person is saying, can be different from what they think they are saying. I think that this is also why people can get in trouble when talking about religion, and politics.

However, I feel that a fundamental problem with our government today is a mirror reflection of a fundamental problem within us all. I feel that the problem is a desire to let someone else solve our problems for us. I feel that many of us might intentionally avoid becoming involved with the government, and our local community because of a number of fears. I think that many of us let our fears control us, far more than us controlling our fear. Maybe it is a fear of conflict, a fear of wasting time, or maybe a fear of success even. So we end up not taking responsibility for our own lives. We elect representatives to public office and expect them to do what we are affraid to do. I hope that we can now see how that can be ludicrous. The only way we can change anything is by changing ourselves first.

I feel that this problem, of fear, can be characterized by the saying" "Don't talk about religon or politics". I think our country was founded in the bath houses, of their time, by talking about religon and politics. I feel that they understood that it can be a lot easier to talk about religion and politics if you stick to the issues that they all faced. I think I have found that the vast majority of people agree on the answers to any given issue. Yet, when someone brings up a political party, country, politician, or a particular religion others will inevitably get defensive and emotional. I think of myself as a Libertarian; And, I have found that a lot of people who call themselves Democrats and Republicans agree with me on most issues. I also have found that most people are calm and reasonable when talking about the issues. I have experienced people getting emotional and unreasonable, only, whenever someone mentions a name. So I think maybe we should talk about whatever is on our minds even if it can be classified as religon or politics, and just remember to avoid talking about any particular poltician, political party, or a specific religion.

Maitreya Project

Jessica Falcone, an Anthropology doctoral student at Cornell University recently created a petition stating, in part:

"There should not be serious collateral damage when building a statue of the Maitreya Buddha! We demand that the Maitreya Project and the Uttar Pradesh state government stop the forcible land acquisition permanently, or at least until the preliminary practice of getting cooperation and approval from the local people has been accomplished to the full satisfaction of the small subsistence farmers and their families." (link)

As many of us know, the Maitreya Project proposes to build a 500 foot Buddha statue in India in order to "effect peace at every level of society through the practice of loving-kindness: peace within the family, the community and the world, as well as inner peace for the individual."

Yet it is clear from the news stories (linked in the petition website) that at least some communities would be horribly affected by this project: essentially evicted from their ancestral farm lands. Thus we see a top-down approach to the spread and celebration of Buddhism where the most powerless in society are ignored or brushed aside. An interesting question is: how much does this simply reflect the history of Buddhism as a whole? And how should we - progressive Buddhists - respond to such acts?

I find it hard to simply accept them as the enlightened (crazy) wisdom of great lamas - even H.H. the Dalai Lama, who has put forth his support. Certainly the project looks and sounds wonderful: meditation areas, a hospital, museum, educational facilities, and so on. But, and this seems to be a wise question in all that we do - even/especially the good - at what cost?

"Solidarity with the Kushinagari Farmers!"
http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/kushinagarsolidarity

(photo above is from the Maitreya Project website)

Empty of what?

One of the more difficult concepts in Buddhism - one of the most fundamental as well as perhaps the most widely misunderstood - is rendered in English as emptiness. In Zen it is taught with the Japanese word Ku. Many people misunderstand emptiness as complete non-existence. When I first came across this idea as an undergraduate, I imagined it was teaching that the phenomenal world was a sort of hologram hiding a sort of vast, cosmic nothingness. The term is sometimes translated as void, or worse The Void, which doesn't help. The word in English also has negative connotations implying a destitution of meaning or value or feeling. Is it any wonder that people think Buddhism is nihilistic? Is this misunderstanding of emptiness just a problem of its translation into English?

The concept that is rendered as Ku in Japanese derives from the Chinese Wu , which comes from Sunyata (Sanskrit), which in turn comes from Sunnata (Pali). The adjective in Pali is Sunna (empty). Have we lost the meaning in this game of Chinese whispers? Sunnata has the same connotation of ordinary physical emptiness in Pali as emptiness has in English - and it was sometimes misunderstood in similar ways. Confusion about the meaning was common even in the time of Buddha it appears and Buddhism has at times been accused of nihilism through much of its history. But in 'Dhamma language' emptiness doesn't mean total nonexistence, or nihilism. It means something quite specific, which can be expressed in positive as well as negative terms, but which is an experience that is beyond words and even concepts. It is the transcendence of the narrow identification of self to an egoless experience of reality without borders, the experience of samadhi - the non-dualistic state of consciousness seen as a pre-cursor to Nirvana.

Originally Sunna referred directly to the anatta (no self-nature) doctrine.

According to orthodox religious and philosophical thought at the time Buddha lived, each and every living being had its own unchanging 'soul' or essence - the atman - which was or became unified with the cosmic Atman (according to some the same as Brahman) on enlightenment. Buddha was contradicting this doctrine - anatta/anatman was a denial of atta/ atman - and sunna was an expression of this. It wasn't a denial of mind or consciousness or the sense of self, it was a denial of a real, enduring, independent, self-existent essence or soul.

In the Suñña Sutta, Ananda asks the Buddha, "It is said that the world is empty, the world is empty, lord. In what respect is it said that the world is empty?" The Buddha replied, "Insofar as it is empty of a self or of anything pertaining to a self: Thus it is said, Ananda, that the world is empty."

So, emptiness is not total nonexistence, but refers specifically to the absence of an atman - an ultimately real self, essence or identity. And describes reality in terms of interdependence rather than self-standing existences. But what relevance does this have to non-Brahmanists and non-metaphysicians?

Such doctrines as the Atman doctrine are really an intellectual expression of the ordinary human way of thinking of life in terms of enduring entities. The identities of things in the world are conventions of the human mind and society. We project these perceived identities outwards onto the universe itself, as if the universe really was divided up into discreet and abiding objects. At best, we see these 'things' as having changing relationships and properties, but nevertheless, an enduring identity. Buddhism teaches that the notion of entities is nominal or conventional. It is a necessary feature of thought and language that we treat identifiable aspects of reality as if they have a continuous existence - even if we acknowledge that this existence is characterised by change. Many computer programming languages are said to be 'object orientated' in the sense that they handle data in terms of identities or objects which have certain properties at any given time. The way that human beings think is remarkably similar to this in some ways. In terms of Buddhist philosophy, we confuse conventional reality with ultimate reality - that is, we confuse the nominal with the actual. No doubt it is a functional, pragmatic way to deal with information, but not a true reflection of reality, which as modern physics tells us, is a seamless and deeply interdependent flux - an evolving matrix of processes within processes. According to Buddhism it is this disparity between out attachment to the notion of enduring entities and the transience of reality, which causes the suffering that we experience from day to day.

Why do the original teachings emphasise this negative description, in terms of absence? It was framed in this way, to respond to the eternalist atman doctrine while perhaps minimising the chance of being interpreted as a new set of statements about the essence of reality. The power of this tendency to reify reality - to project our concepts of identity as if they existed externally - means that we may see even a teaching of inter-dependence in terms of a network of relationships between entities, when really it is only the mind that creates the existence of any entities or even relationships - reality is a seamless - and ultimately indescribable - whole. This is why, to avid nihilistic misunderstandings, some modern teachers describe emptiness in terms of openness or fullness - because phenomena are empty of that which would separate or confine them - a self-existent identity or essence.

Buddha taught that all phenomena are characterised by three qualities - the Three Marks of Existence:

Dukkha (Sanskrit duhkha) or unsatisfactoriness. Nothing found in the physical world or even the psychological realm can bring lasting deep satisfaction.

Anicca (Sanskrit anitya) or impermanence. This refers not only to the fact that all conditioned things eventually cease to exist, but also that all conditioned things are in a constant state of flux. (Visualize a leaf growing on a tree. It dies and falls off the tree but is soon replaced by a new leaf.)

Anatta (Sanskrit anatman) impersonality, or non-Self. The human personality, "soul", or Self, is a conventional appellation applied to the assembly of physical and psychological components, each individually subject to constant flux; there is no central core (or essence); this is somewhat similar to a bundle theory of mind or soul.
Source

These characteristics are inter-dependent: it is because things lack an independent essence, that they are in a constant state of change; it is because we hold onto the changing aspects of reality as if they had a continuous existence that they are unsatisfactory for us. Emptiness is really just the same as interdependence or dependent origination, and some of the clearest accounts I've come across explain it in these terms. Thich Nhat Hanh's commentary on the Heart Sutra (which I recommend) describes it using his own terminology of 'inter-being'.

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow; and without trees, we cannot make paper...So we can say that the cloud and the paper 'inter-are.' We cannot just be by ourselves alone; we have to inter-be with every other thing.

A class of Mahayana sutras called the Prajnaparamita (Perfection of Wisdom) sutras developed this concept of emptiness. The earliest is the Aṣṭasāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra or "Perfection of Wisdom in 8,000 Lines", which is chanted in a shortened form in Zen dojos as the Heart sutra. It includes a number of quite enigmatic lines on emptiness:

"Form is empty; emptiness is form. Emptiness is not other than form; form also is not other than emptiness. Likewise, feeling, discrimination, compositional factors and consciousness are empty."

"Shariputra, like this all phenomena are merely empty, having no characteristics. They are not produced and do not cease. They have no defilement and no separation from defilement. They have no decrease and no increase."

Emptiness is that which is beyond dualities - it is raw reality, prior to conceptualisation and language. It is not to be seen as another concept, set in opposition to phenomena such as form (matter), sensation, perception, mentality, or consciousness. Reality is not separate from appearance. Thich Nhat Hanh explains this beautifully as follows:

Form is the wave and emptiness is the water.

Probably the second most influential Buddhist thinker after Buddha himself was Nagarjuna who, at the time that Mahayana Buddhism was emerging, developed the concept of Sunyata with a thorough and extensive philosophy of negation - the best known exposition of his thought is the Mūlamadhyamakakārikā (Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way). Key features of this teaching are:

• The Buddhist Concept of Emptiness of all things (i.e., all things, including the Buddha, have no inherent existence)
• The identity of pratītyasamutpāda (Dependent Origination) with śunyatā
• The indifferentiability of nirvāṇa from saṃsāra
• The tentative or merely conventional nature of all truth

The former is expressed in terms of the 'emptiness of emptiness':

Whatever is dependently co-arisen
That is explained to be emptiness.
That, being a dependent designation,
Is itself the middle way.

Something that is not dependently arisen,
Such a thing does not exist.
Therefore a nonempty thing
Does not exist.

One of the problems with philosophies based (for teaching purposes) on negation, such as anatta, sunna and to an even greater extent the work of Middle Path philosophers such as Nagarjuna, is that it is easily interpreted as nihilism. Many people misinterpret these ideas as a denial of reality. But Nagarjuna's philosophy is not nihilistic, it is negative to avoid all attachment to concepts, all reification. But really it is indicating through denial and silence, that which is beyond language and concepts. It is intended to negate attachment to concepts in order to see through them to reality. He has prompted comparison with the (equally misunderstood) 20th century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein.

A group of Mahayana sutras referred to as the Tathagatagarbha (Buddha Womb) Sutras teach that there is a permanent, unchanging essence within each being. The term Tathagatagarbha can be variously translated as 'Buddha Womb', 'Buddha Embryo' etc, and is closely related to and sometimes synonymous with Buddha Nature. It may have arisen as a result of Hindu/Brahmanist influences since it arose during a Hindu revival in India. These sutras are in agreement that the Tathagatagarbha is an undefiled, eternal essence within all beings. It is presented as an antidote to a false, nihilistic understanding of emptiness. But, as I have already argued, to see these doctrines as nihilism is to totally (yet understandably) misunderstand them. A minority of Mahayana Buddhists adhere to this view literally. However such an interpretation seems essentially indistinguishable from the Vedic/Brahminist teachings of Atman that Buddhism rose out of and broke away from. Others see such interpretation as being in contradiction to the principles of anatman and sunyata. To me, this raises the question of why, if Buddha was essentially in agreement with the Brahminists, he felt any need to debate with them and to give radical, innovative teachings which directly contradicted them. Buddha rejected eternalism as well as annihilationism. How does this interpretation differ from eternalism? Is this not just another attempt to cling to atman, to imagined permanence? Another reification of concepts? How do we reconcile this with the rest of Buddhist philosophy?

Could it be that the authors of these sutras (which were of course attributed to Buddha, but which did not appear until several centuries after his death) had misunderstood such doctrines as Anatta, Sunyata and Madhyamaka philosophy as nihilism? Or perhaps they were creating an antidote to the popular misunderstanding of such teachings as nihilism - redressing the balance by teaching emptiness in positive terms.

In one of the Tathagatagarbha sutras, the Lankavatara Sutra, it is explained that the Tathagatagarbha doctrine is a teaching method:

Then Mahamati said to the Blessed One: In the Scriptures mention is made of the Womb of Tathágata-hood and it is taught that that which is born of it is by nature bright and pure, originally unspotted and endowed with the thirty-two marks of excellence. As it is described it is a precious gem but wrapped in a dirty garment soiled by greed, anger, folly and false-imagination. We are taught that this Buddha-nature immanent in everyone is eternal, unchanging, and auspicious. It is not this, which is born of the Womb of Tathágata-hood the same as the soul-substance that is taught by the philosophers? The Divine Atman as taught by them is also claimed to be eternal, inscrutable, unchanging, and imperishable. Is there, or is there not a difference?

The Blessed One replied: No, Mahamati, my Womb of Tathágata-hood is not the same as the Divine Atman as taught by the philosophers. What I teach is Tathágata-hood in the sense of Dharmakaya, Ultimate Oneness, Nirvana, emptiness, unborn-ness, unqualified ness, devoid of will-effort. The reason why I teach the doctrine of Tathágata-hood is to cause the ignorant and simple-minded to lay aside their fears as they listen to the teaching of ego-less-ness and come to understand the state of non-discrimination and imageless-ness. The religious teaching of the Tathágatas are just like a potter making various vessels by his own skill of hand with the aid of rod, water and thread, out of the one mass of clay, so the Tathágatas by their command of skillful means issuing from Noble Wisdom, by various terms, expressions, and symbols, preach the twofold ego-less-ness in order to remove the last trace of discrimination that is preventing disciples from attaining a self-realization of Noble Wisdom. The doctrine of the Tathágata-womb is disclosed in order to awaken philosophers from their clinging to the notion of a Divine Atman as transcendental personality, so that their minds that have become attached to the imaginary notion of "soul" as being something self-existent may be quickly awakened to a state of perfect enlightenment. All such notions as causation, succession, atoms, primary elements, that make up personality, personal soul, Supreme Spirit, Sovereign God, Creator, are all figments of the imagination and manifestations of mind. No, Mahamati, the Tathágata’s doctrine of the Womb of Tathágata-hood is not the same as the philosopher’s Atman.

Note the phrase 'the Tathágatas by their command of skillful means issuing from Noble Wisdom, by various terms, expressions, and symbols, preach the twofold ego-less-ness'. In what sense is the ego-less-ness twofold? I propose that it is twofold through both negative expression (anatta, sunyata) and positive expression (Tathagatagarbha, dependent origination).

In his article The Significance Of 'Tathagatagarbha' - A Positive Expression Of 'Sunyata' Heng-Ching Shih expresses the same argument in detail.

In this passage, the Buddha clearly identified the 'tathagatagarbha' with emptiness, markless, 'tathata', etc., meaning that the 'tathagatagarbha' is without any substantial entity. Then the question arises: -- if the 'tathagatagarbha' is empty by nature , why the Buddhas teach a 'tathagatagarbha' possessing all positive attributes, such as eternal (nitya), self ('atman'), bliss (sukha) and pure (subha)? ...It is pointed out in this passage that the 'tathagatagarbha' is empty in its nature yet real: it is 'Nirvana' itself, unborn, without predicates. It is where no false discrimination (nirvikalpa) takes place. There is nothing here for the Buddhas or Bodhisattvas to take hold of as an 'atman'. They have gone beyond the sphere of false discrimination and word. It is due to their wisdom and skillful means ('upaya') that they set up all kinds of names and phrases in order to save sentient beings from mistaken view of reality. In other words, it is exactly to help sentient beings case away their fear of 'anatman' that the 'tathagatagarbha' with positive attributes (i.e., 'asunya-tathagatagarbha') is taught, and at the same time it is to get rid of the clinging of 'atman' that the 'anatman-tathagatagarbha' is taught. Thus it is clear that the 'tathagatagarbha' is not an Upanishadic 'atman'.

There is a passage in the 'Mahaparinirana Sutra' in which Buddha nature is defined as the ultimate emptiness and the Middle Way. It reads:

Good son, Buddha nature is the ultimate emptiness ,which is 'prajna' itself. [False] emptiness means not to perceive emptiness or non-emptiness. The wise perceive emptiness and non-emptiness, permanence and impermanence, suffering and happiness, self and non-self. What is empty is 'samsara' and what is not empty is great 'nirvana' ... Perceiving the non-self but not the self is not the Middle Way. The Middle Way is Buddha nature.

Heng-Ching Shih explains this as follows:

The essential point of this passage is that true emptiness, or in this case Buddha nature, trancends any dictomony [between] being and non-being, self and non-self, suffering and happiness, etc. Ordinary people and the heterodox see only the existence of self, while 'Sravakas' and Pratyekabuddhas perceive only the non-self, but not the existence of a self. Clinging to one extreme or the other, they cannot realize the ultimate, and true emptiness and consequently cannot realize the Middle Way. Without the Middle Way, they are not able to comprehend Buddha nature. Trying to lessen the monistic flavour of the Buddha nature, the 'Mahaparinirvana Sutra' interprets Buddha nature as both encompassing and transcending the notions of self and non-self. It makes the doctrine of the Buddha nature adhere closely to the Buddhist teaching of non-duality and the Middle Way. Thus Buddha nature should not be treated as equivalent to the monistic absolute. If it does seemly indicate the presence of a substantive self, it is actually a positive expression of emptiness.

Interpreting the Tathagatagarbha doctrine as soteriological - as a teaching device - rather than as theoretical and literal in this way, we can resolve an apparent conflict into a teaching which is harmonious with the rest of Buddhist philosophy.

As with Thich Nhat Hanh's teaching of emptiness, we have another, relatively easy to understand, positive expression of the core teaching of Buddhism. And again we have the danger of literalism and reification - an even greater danger in this case due to the ambiguity of the texts and the ease with which they can be seen as metaphysics. The key, I believe, is to see all of these teachings as just that - to walk a Middle Path, avoiding literalism, clinging to no particular articulation, positive or negative, but instead letting go of all attachment to concepts and language and instead being open to reality itself without such 'mediation'. All good Buddhist teachings are knowingly pragmatic and soteriological, in my opinion.

This post was originally published in my personal blog in 2007. Image copyright Rein Nomm.

The Itch As Glitch: Deconstructing Externality and Sensation

Any meditator will undoubtedly be very familiar with our old friend, the itch. While I think the connections between scientific discoveries and Buddhist beliefs can be over-emphasised, in this article, taking uncontrollable itching as a starting point, Atul Gawande looks at the new light being thrown on the relationship between external objects, sensation, and consciousness.

Scientific developments are challenging what Gawande calls the ‘naïve view’ – that we perceive the world directly, that sensations transmitted by objects are ‘picked up by our nerve endings, transmitted through the spinal cord like a message through a wire, and decoded by the brain.’ Rather, he argues on the basis of this research, the mind is not so much decoding sensations, as constructing objects from signals, signals which are ‘radically impoverished’ compared with our experience of embodiment. On this view, perception, rather than being a response to external stimuli, is in fact the brain’s ‘best guess,’ or inference, about what’s ‘happening out there.’ Phenomena like phantom limb pain, or itching in places with no nerve endings, are what happens when the best guess happens to be wrong; and thus a solution might be possible if that guess can be adjusted – in the case of phantom limbs, by ‘mirror therapy’ through which patients appear to themselves to possess the missing limb.

What’s interesting about this from a Buddhist perspective, it seems to me, is that it dovetails with the teaching that our impression of our own embodied objectivity, and hence our whole concept of the ‘reality’ we inhabit, is illusory, and that in normal everyday life we do not have access to unmediated experience (indeed, this would suggest that there can be no such thing as unmediated experience, only the experience of experience as mediated – though the nature of meditative insights is not a subject on which I’d claim any authority from experience whatsoever). It seems to me (from my limited knowledge) that there’s a particular affinity here with Yogacara perspectives on cognition as constitutive of a (supposed) reality external to consciousness. The mind not only imposes particular constructions on objectively-experienced sensation as a result of contact with objectively-existing, separate external objects; all those sensations and separate objects exist as they are experienced only as a result of being constructed mind-objects, or dharmas.

As well as giving a new approach to problems like those mentioned above, this perspective on consciousness might also relate to new practices in dealing with pain. Rather than distraction - an older technique - Gawande notes that people with chronic pain are now often advised to ‘work through’ the pain, giving the body a chance to ‘reset’ pain sensors. Though it’s not mentioned in the article, there’s some fascinating work out there on mindfulness as a method of long-term pain management, which would seem to bear definite similarities.

I wouldn’t want in any way to diminish through comparison the agony people experience when dealing with these kinds of medical problems. But there is something fundamental here about the fact that our suffering can be our own creation, and that we may not be conscious of this, or, if we are, this intellectual understanding in itself does not serve to mitigate that suffering. Sakyamuni is often understood as a physician, and in identifying ‘everyday life’ itself as dukkha, we might ask what treatment we could use to help readjust our fundamentally faulty understanding – which brings us full circle, away from these abstracted intellectual meanderings and back to the cushion…