Divide or unite?

I love history. Knowing where we came from and how we got here is important. “Real” history—not the fairy-tale version we seem to prefer—teaches us valuable lessons. In particular, understanding the historical path leading to common-coin words and terms is paramount because words and terms are the building blocks of ideologies—the way we think and understanding what unites and divides us.

December 8 is an auspicious day few even know exists, and I’ll get to that in a moment. But first, I’d like to write about another day of which nearly everyone, throughout the world, is aware—December 25, the day Christians (and others) celebrate the birth of Jesus. We know that day as Christmas. But time has erased from our collective memory the origin of the term “Christmas,”—The Christian festival celebrating the birth of Jesus occurs on December 25. The English term Christmas (“mass on Christ’s day”) is of recent origin. The earlier term Yule (e.g., Yule-tide) may have derived from the Germanic jōl or the Anglo-Saxon geōl, which referred to the feast of the winter solstice: A purely secular root to what has become a day of giving and receiving gifts on Christmas, supposedly as a celebration of the birth of Jesus.

Since the early 20th century, Christmas has mostly become a secular holiday. In this secular celebration, a mythical figure named Santa Claus plays a pivotal role. For the most part, Christmas is a family holiday, observed by Christians and non-Christians, devoid of Christian elements. And we are now in the midst of “Black Fridays” (plural, since the day, has become an entire series of days), designating the annual rush to purchase the most for the least, in anticipation of getting ready for Santa Claus. “Black Friday” also has a historical path, but I don’t want to overlay one divergence on top of another, or I’d never get to the point. And what is that point? The point is the preference for myth over fact—Fake News or disinformation, making it nearly impossible to know which end is up. We seem to love snake-oil and those who sell it because we are essentially lazy and don’t make an effort to dig beneath the surface and discover what lies within.

There is a method in my madness for this short Christmas diversion, apart from the significance of December 8. The madness part is that I would delay. And the method part explains my reason, which is to illustrate how we (as a human family) have lost our way. As the saying goes: “Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” This very moment we are on the verge of doing just that—repeating a miserable era that emerged during the decade following 1930. That repetition has much to do with both December 8 and December 25.

Birth—biological birth is different from spiritual birth. In the Christian tradition, spiritual birth happens (or it doesn’t) when aspirants confess their sinful nature and accept the Holy Spirit (supposedly the aspect of a triune God—trinity, promised by Jesus) into their spiritual hearts and souls. Then, those “born again” become a new person, armed with The Spirit of God. The matter of salvation (e.g., being set free from the scourge of “sin”) presupposes being sinful in the first place. Without that presumption, the entire proposition falls into a thousand pieces, and like Humpty-Dumpty, can’t be put back together again: another divergent tale worth pondering, but for another time.

While few know the historical facts of Christmas (December 25), fewer still know the historical facts of Bodhi Day (December 8)—the Buddhist holiday that commemorates the day that the historical Buddha—Siddhartha Gautama (Shakyamuni), experienced enlightenment. According to tradition, Siddhartha had pursued and ultimately gave up years of extremely ascetic practice and resolved to sit under a “peepal tree” until he was free from suffering. Siddhartha sat beneath that tree, meditated until he found the root of suffering, and discovered how to liberate himself from it. That process of giving up asceticism was preceded by giving up what none of us would give up (great wealth) to travel the other path that lead to a dead-end. On the other side of that end lay the opening to ultimate freedom—a goal all humans desire; the mythical pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

When those living in the Western World think of enlightenment, they conjure up “THE Enlightenment,” an era when European politics, philosophy, science, and communications were radically reoriented during the course of the “long 18th century” (1685-1815) as part of a movement referred to by its participants as the Age of Reason, or simply The Enlightenment. Enlightenment thinkers in Britain, France, and Europe questioned traditional authority and embraced the notion that humanity could be improved through rational change. Ever since that era, the Western World has been on a path defined by rational thought and hardened ideologies. While Christians remained the largest religious group in the world in 2015, making up nearly a third (31%—2.3. billion) of Earth’s 7.3 billion people, they are fragmented into a myriad of schisms (e.g., denominations) too vast to count, each of which claims to be the sole keepers of the truth.

In the Eastern World, “enlightenment” is a very different matter. The idea of “moksha”—release from the cycle of continuing suffering by attaining a transcendent state of mind, is the gold standard. It is within this state of mind that one realizes unconditional truth. Opposing ideologies are anathema to this sort of enlightenment but is instead oriented toward realizing one’s true nature of unity (non-difference vs. ideological differences). And for that reason celebrating December 8 (Bodhi Day) is relevant to the current crisis of chaos around the world. We are in a meltdown mode because of the “I’m right/you’re wrong” vector of ideologies, which align with rational thinking, taking us further and further away from meltdown solutions. 

The illusion of difference. The substance of non-difference.

In the Diamond Sutra, the Buddha said his Dharma is no Dharma thus it is called the Dharma. The first time I read this Sutra I thought there must be a textual error. If there ever seemed to be a twisted piece of logic this appeared as the prime example. But as I matured I have continued to read this Sutra, which The Buddha called the Perfection of Wisdom. I reasoned if The Buddha called it that, he probably had good reason. And every time I read it the wisdom began to seep into my conscious awareness. The Sutra is one of the most brilliant strokes of insight ever conceived. It shines like a Diamond.

Then one day it all became clear. First let’s understand a few important details. For example the word “Dharma.” That word has a variety of meanings. It can mean truth as in the case of Dharmakaya—truth body. It can mean teaching beyond time/space (e.g., transcendent). In this case a teaching beyond words. Dharma can also mean to grasp or understand something which is eternal, in other words to understand something not conditional or dependent upon anything. And these concepts are related. If something is genuinely true then it isn’t going to flip about from moment to moment, or change from culture to culture but instead will remain the same today, yesterday and tomorrow, wherever it appears. And the condition that makes it a real teaching is that it must be wordless; beyond bias.

This understanding is important in grasping the message of the Perfection of Wisdom. What all of us desire is being able to count on some stability and not be subject to continual chaos. But this desire seems to be at odds with the Three Dharma seals: impermanence, no-self and suffering. So what gives? There are two parts to the Dharma (or so it seems). On the one side is this matter of constant change. And a substantial number of Buddhists have a practice based on letting go; releasing themselves from this ever-eroding flux. And that practice works, to an extent. That’s the mechanical side, the side that is graspable because it is reasonable.

But there is another side that The Buddha addresses in this Diamond Sutra. The conversation, which ensues, is between Subhūti and Gautama. Subhūti asks a question and Gautama answers. Apparently Subhūti was an advanced arhat and was well versed in understanding the principle of emptiness with all of its implications. Subhūti understood that nothing existed as an independent matter and he was schooled in the Three Dharma seals. But Gautama knew that Subhūti needed a final push for him to become enlightened. What was the final frontier?

What Subhūti needed to understand was that emptiness is not emptiness, thus it is called emptiness. Emptiness, along with everything else is empty. It is therefore both real and not real at the same time. It too is dependent but what it is dependent upon is unconditionality. This means that there is a dimension of life that is constantly moving and a dimension that is not and these two aspects are really only one single thing, non-thing. In truth (which is not truth, but called truth) duality is an illusion that only exists conceptually. 

In our minds we see objective configurations, which we call thoughts. These thoughts are illusive in nature. But our real mind does not move. It is silent and unseen. The same is true of our perceptible world: it moves. Things are different and not different, at the same time, thus the illusion of difference and the substance of non-difference. 

But the ultimate question must be, Why does this matter? The answer is that duality is, and has always been, the driving force that leads to inevitable conflict and suffering. The illusion of difference is what causes suffering in the first place. And it doesn’t matter whether this illusion is internal (our thoughts) or external (our perceptible world). If any of it is perceptible, it is not real, in spite of the fact that illusions appear to be real. Only our silent, unconditional, unseen mind, (that never changes) is substantial and real. And this mind is our universal connection with all life. In truth all people are united in this mind where discrimination doesn’t exist.

When we approach life from an either/or perspective it seems like the two are separate and irreconcilable. Wrong is wrong, and right is right. But this is not any more true than imagining that we can separate up from down. Right and wrong are glued together as a single indivisible package just as up and down are. It is impossible to divide these two sides since they are not actually two. It is like two sides of a roof on a house. We can see the outside but not the underneath side, or the reverse, but never is it possible to keep them as separate and divided entities. It matters because it shows us all that living with the illusion of separateness and independence creates unending strife. And who needs that, particularly today?

The teaching of the Buddha, contained in this Diamond Sutra, is exceedingly deep and profound yet it is the secret to harmonious living. Here Gautama is teaching us, beyond time, space, and culture, that all of life is united and emanates from our mind, which by the way is The Buddha but not The Buddha thus we call it The Buddha!

Transcendence and the Middle Way

Choosing the middle doorway.

“The Middle Way” is a hallmark of Buddhist thought yet the term is often short-changed or converted into a sort of formula for advancing toward enlightenment—A pathway. Over the vast expanse of time since Buddhism became established, this pathway was been adorned with many different embellishments, not all of which are helpful.

Initially, The Middle Way meant “not this, not that; not not this, not not that”—both a negation and an affirmation at the same time: a position (or non-position) between all opposites, but especially between permanence and impermanence. Expressed in equivalent terms: Between immortality and mortality. Rather than an either/or, it was the position of both/and. During the epoch of The Buddha, Indian philosophy was wrestling with these two opposites. One school argued in favor of an absolute, the other school argued in favor of complete nihilism. Upon his enlightenment, The Buddha realized that neither school was right, nor were they wrong—thus The Middle Way.

And while this enlightened conclusion may have philosophically resolved the matter, the real power is to transcend the entire issue, in fact, to transcend all opposition or sameness. In Western thought, something is momentarily one thing or another at any given point in time and space. A “white” object is only a discrete white object and nothing else. A “good” thing is discretely a good thing. One set of beliefs are right and others are wrong. If a person is considered to be alive mortally they can’t be alive immortally; if a Buddhist, not a Christian. We enshrine such exclusive labels. Given the passage of time, space, and circumstances one thing may (or may not) transform from one discrete thing into another. The problem with this way of thinking is that it moves back into the same argument that was resolved by The Buddha more than 2,500 years ago—“not this, not that; not not this, not not that.” Sometimes it seems that we are doomed to keep repeating the same error endlessly.

For The Middle Way to have any usefulness (beyond philosophy) transcendence is required: to simply move beyond all opposites and do away with such views, in fact, to transcend all ideas of who we all think we are. Our greatest of all fears is mortal death. And this fear is based on the idea that mortality and immortality are mutually exclusive. We misunderstand that true life does not die. While we are mortal beings, within our mortal house (which surely dies) resides immortality.
 

To adopt view “A” (while excluding all “non-A” views) gets us stuck, or to use a Buddhist term “attached” which The Buddha taught is the nexus of suffering. Practically speaking, hardly a moment passes when we don’t find ourselves taking up a firm stance on something. We almost regard this way as virtuous. My country right or wrong; love it or leave it. My ideology is right. Yours is wrong. And we demand that our leaders embrace this hardened, bunker mentality. This way of taking up inflexible stances is wreaking our world. How can we be open-minded without being considered wishy-washy or a fence straddler? In the West, it is very difficult. 

To answer that question it is necessary to seriously consider this matter of “transcendence.” The truth is that everything has two-interdependent states vs. discrete, independent states. A “white” object can only be that way because it contains all other colors. Scientists proved that long ago through diffraction. Okay, then you would argue that the opposite of white is black and for sure is not in the light spectrum—it is the absence of light. And “white” means nothing, without the existence of the opposite color.  This “view” would be correct and not correct—not this, not that, not not this, not not that. Why? Because light and not light arise together just as a mother can only be a mother by virtue of having a child, or a child can only be a child by virtue of having a mother: the chicken and egg thing. 

This interdependent acknowledgment has a name in Buddhism. It’s called dependent origination which has been central to evolving Dharma (e.g., truth) teachings. 

There have been many enlightened Zen masters but one of my favorites is Huang Po. Here is what he had to say about this issue. “Once you stop arousing concepts and thinking in terms of existence and non-existence, long and short, other and self, active and passive, and suchlike, you will find that your Mind is intrinsically the Buddha, that the Buddha is intrinsically Mind, and that Mind resembles a void.”—From the Wan Ling Record. Huang Po is very succinct and cuts to the heart of the matter. He is talking here about transcending, just canning all conceptual matters and allowing your mind to rest with the understanding that there are no valid, exclusive positions and when we adopt a position (any) we are trapped like a monkey who reaches into a jar to get a goodie and won’t let go, thus imprisoning himself. We do it all of the time and pay a heavy price when we do.

At the core of each and every one of us, there is a place of peace—a void, without this vs. that. Call it what you will: Buddha, One Mind, Dharmakāya, The Absolute, Immortality, whatever. The label doesn’t matter. When we move away from that middle place we run the risk of creating karma (either good or bad). At the core, there is no karma because this is the unconditional realm (e.g., without conditions). Yet this core space can’t exist without a conditional jar and if we try to grasp it we’ll get just as stuck as the monkey. But maybe Huang Po would say just forget about jars and what’s inside. Just let it all go.

Poisonous Children

In Buddhist thought, a poisonous monster lives inside each of us and it has three characteristics—greed, anger, and delusion (or ignorance). The name of this monster is our “precious” ego, the mythical surrogate we all create to identify ourselves. I say precious with tongue in cheek because this is the mother of all sorrow. 

It appears precious until we understand it’s phantom nature. It is who we think we are and we defend it to the death. Different religions refer to ego death as the necessary condition for final liberation—being set free to experience fundamental humanity. Christianity calls this experience being “reborn” (sadly misunderstood) and the mystical arm of Christianity refers to this state as “the dark night of the soul,” the darkness everyone must pass through on the way to freedom. 

The soul is a term, which is often used to describe the ego. When Gautama was enlightened he realized his true nature and came to understand that the ego was not real. He saw it for what it is: an idea rather than something real, and along with his enlightenment, he understood the source of suffering—the idea of ego. If you wanted to reduce Buddhism down to a single statement (which would be a gross devaluation) you could call it the solution for overcoming suffering. I’ll explain:

We have a sight challenge: We can’t see our true, immaculate self. The truth is we can’t see each other either. What I see when I look at you is your outer skin—call it a cloak. And since that is what we can see, we think of a person (including ourselves) as a body, only. But none of us is stupid. We know we are more than just a bag of bones. We know that there is someone inside that bag and we call that inside dimension by a name—“our self.” Unfortunately, this our self is just another cloak, an inside cloak that conceals our true identity. So why don’t we see this identity behind the cloak? The answer is simple (but not so obvious). We don’t see the real us because our true identity can’t be seen, but it’s there in spite of our sight challenge. If it weren’t there we couldn’t see anything because our true self is what’s doing the seeing and it’s called consciousness. Consciousness at its simplest is “awareness or sentience of internal or external existence.”

What can we see? We can see objects. What can’t we see? We can’t see the subjects. Anyone who has studied grammar is taught the difference between an object and a subject. If I write the sentence “I see myself,” the “I” would refer to the subject, and “myself” would be the object. But there is a subtle problem with such a sentence (and a clue). Is it possible for a subject to be an object? Isn’t that sentence illogical? Think about it. Either they are different or they are the same thing with an illusion of difference.

Our real nature is not an object, like a stone—which can’t see. When we objectify anything we devalue it, stripping it of fundamental humanity. We are not only objects. We are not an idea. We are real beings, an incarnate spirit with two dimensions, one part of which can be seen and one part that can’t. These two parts can’t be divided. If our spirit is removed we’ll just be a bag of bones. If our body is removed we’ll be a ghost. We may talk as if they can be divided but such thinking is delusional. And there is an inherent awareness in us all that knows this truth, but it is such a vaporous aspect that it goes beyond our detection. 

It is a conundrum, which produces the three, poisons of greed, anger, and delusion. Why? Because “We”—the real us—wants desperately to be set free and it makes us angry that we can’t find the solution! We are in prison—a prison of our own making—and we can’t find our way out, and the keys to that prison are held by Mr. or Mrs. Ego (the gatekeeper of our prison) who is extremely greedy; who wants to possess and defend; who clings to everything desirable and rebuffs everything deemed as undesirable. Our ego judges with a criterion of objectivity—what it can perceive. If I look good, that is desirable. If I look bad, that is undesirable. If you act well, that is desirable. If you act poorly, that is undesirable. We judge based on our capacity to perceive, not what we can’t perceive.

Since it is impossible to see the real us, we all create a surrogate identity that can be seen. And this surrogate is fabricated (clothed) with a vast wardrobe of ideas, judgments, and points of discrimination. We objectify ourselves and in the process strip ourselves of human dignity. Ego is like a hologram—an image in our mind (a self-image), which we watch with our mind’s eye. We can see this hologram twist and turn, to reach out and be reached at. It is amorphous and in constant motion, subject to both assaults, and adoration.

The ego hates to be assaulted (and become easily offended) and loves to be adored. When we are assaulted we naturally take offense and when we are adored, we love it and gravitate to the one who expresses love. We are yo-yos on the string of life. And you know what ticks us off the most? That we see this manipulation happening and seem powerless to stop it! And that makes us really sad or mad! And then we take the next step: we then learn to hate our self for being so powerless and vulnerable. 

The downward spiral—which in the grand scheme is a very good spiral. Why? Because it hurts so badly and we hate pain. Pain is really our friend. It tells us something is wrong that needs fixing and if we humans are nothing more, we are fixers and very inventive. But what is generally missing is motivation. Suffering supplies motivation.

Suffering is our friend. It is something we experience inside. It is not an outside condition. It happens inside—it is a response (an effect) not a cause. And who causes this response? Our suffering is not caused by another nor experienced by them. It is caused by our response, not by outer circumstances, which can never be altered. And who is behind our responses? Why the keeper of the prison keys—Ego (our surrogate self). Ego is the source of our sorrow; our suffering, and since it is the source, it is there we must turn for a solution. 

Our system is an amazingly delicate instrument with all manner of built-in sensors designed to warn us of impending disaster. When we are being affected by a virus we start to feel poorly and we go to the doctor. When we are not feeling well emotionally we also seek out a doctor. But sadly today’s doctors of emotions either drug us to not feel the pain or reinforce our self-image so that we think better of our ego. These approaches only partially help, but unfortunately, they work to remove our motivation to reach beyond the illusion and find our true substance. Consequently, we never remove the cancerous seed but instead just slap on another band-aid.

Ego is a toxic substance, that produces emotional disease, which is why these children of ego are called the three poisons. Greed, anger, and delusion are toxic children and the only solution to this poisoning is to vanquish the internal creator-mother—the ego and allow our natural goodness to emerge. The answer is not to bolster our self-image or anesthetize suffering but is rather to vaporize the mother—to see it as the phantom that it is.

Meister Eckhart—Christian Mystic and prophet (circa 1260-1329)—said:

“Humanity in the poorest and most despised human being is just as complete as in the Pope or the Emperor.” And we know what sort of clothing the Emperor wears—none.

Fundamental humanity is not flawed in any way. It is complete already. The flaw is what stands in the way of our human birthright that puts one head above another. At the ground level of our humanity, we are equal and good, whether Pope, Emperor, Buddha, or an average person.

Getting to the other side

If I were wishing to cross a river to the other side I would need some means to get there. Maybe I would choose a boat and oars and propel myself across. But before I went to the trouble of obtaining the boat and oars, and expending the effort to cross, perhaps I might consider why I want to cross in the first place. Maybe someone has told me that on the other side it’s a better place than where I stand and I decided that they might be right.

The point is that we do things like moving from point “A” to point “B” for what we consider to be good reasons. We can’t know for sure whether or not our reasons are valid until we make the trip. Then only can we know, because we then have an actual experience of the other side to compare with the opposite shore. We refer to this as “The grass is greener on the other side of the fence.”

But as we all know, oftentimes the grass is not greener and then we have an embarrassing conundrum to deal with. Do we acknowledge this error in judgment, and attempt to come to terms with how we made the error? Or maybe we take another tack and pretend that the other side really is greener (when it is actually not) to justify our actions. Many people are remiss to acknowledge an error, feeling the pain of a diminished ego and humiliation. Rather than take the hit they choose to deny reality and continue to make the same mistake over and over again. Does this sound familiar? It should since we are living in a time when error upon error is being made, with no admission of wrongdoing.

This line of thought is leading to a discussion on crossing the river from “carnage” to a better place and the presumptions we use to support the making. In standard Buddhist practice, the presumption is that we move toward enlightenment by embracing a given set of precepts that we believe will purify our being and thus facilitate an experience we think of as enlightenment. If we have never crossed over we can only guess about the turf on the opposite shore. Maybe it will be greener and maybe not. But how would we know until we actually cross over? Perhaps the presumption is correct—that precepts produce the desired effect. But of equal value is to question the trip and the means to get across.

The Buddha probably wrestled with this predicament and learned through experience that his presumptions were flawed. His own prescription didn’t work. The more important question is a matter of order. Did The Buddha’s enlightenment come following the formula, or did the formula follow his enlightenment? This question is rarely considered but it is “the” question. Is it possible, for anyone—The Buddha included—to manifest ultimate goodness while enslaved within the grip of an ego? Which is the chicken and which is the egg? Or does genuine goodness and the evidence arise together?

The presumption of cause and effect (e.g., karma) leads us to examine in this way—Goodness (cause) and enlightenment (effect) or, enlightenment (cause) and goodness (effect)? One side of the river is a corrupted nature (an ego) which may desire to do good but is lacking the capacity, and on the other side of the river is the well-spring of goodness, but is lacking the arms and legs needed to propel us across. So long as anyone thinks in this divided manner they will never be able to move, much less across the river. Why? Because motion—any motion, and particularly the motion of enlightenment—is not a function of division but of unity.

The Buddha’s enlightenment occurred once he had surrendered from the Gordian Knot—the insolvable quandary which demanded this choice between cause and effect. Should he choose the side of ultimate goodness? Or ultimate depravity? That dilemma still stands as the ultimate challenge and there are no options to solve it today that didn’t exist in the time of The Buddha. The answer today, as then, is let go. It is not now, and will never be, possible to untie this knot by traveling a path other than The Middle Way. 

Goodness and the well-spring of Goodness arise together and disappear together. We are both at the same time, or we are neither. Not cause and effect, but rather cause-effect. We can’t earn goodness from the center of self because self serves self alone. When we exhaust this center, goodness bubbles to the surface naturally. It can’t be forced upward through the filter of ego. That plug is too strong to allow passage. When it is removed the flow begins, and until that happens the only movement which can happen originates from the ego.

And then we discover that enlightenment is not one shore against the other shore. Enlightenment is both shores and the river and all of life. It is not a destination but rather an experience of goodness which flows naturally, but only when the obstacle is removed.

Complete Release— Number 2

Image via Wikipedia

Yesterday this identity issue appeared to be unresolved with us trapped in a logical box. So now let’s shift gears and come at this from a different tack by turning, of all places, to the Bible and look at an insightful passage:

“For our light and momentary troubles (causes and effects at the conditional level) are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” —2 Corinthians 4:17-18

“How does the Bodhisattva-mahasattva meditate on the Void-Void? This Void-Void is where the sravakas (see ending note) and the pratyekabuddhas (see ending note) get lost. O good man! This is ‘is’ and this is ‘not-is’. This is the Void-Void.” Chapter 22—Mahaparinirvana Sutra.

When we are finally done with hope in temporal life; when we see completely that there is nothing to hold on to that doesn’t result in suffering; when we finally get it that attachment is a dead-end, rooted in a deluded sense of separate and independent identity, then we can emancipate ourselves by releasing from attachment to attachment. 

Is relinquishing opinions.

Believers in emptiness

Are incurable.”—Nagarjuna

And this from Buddhist scripture:

An is, in this context, means form as when we refer to something: We say it is a ladder. The is has defined characteristics. The not-is has no defining characteristic, which makes it emptiness or in other words the Void. 

The Void is the Wall—Essence: the unconditional nature of us all. One side of reality against which the ladder, (e.g., the other side) rests. Emptiness and form are the divine partnership, which frames reality. The Void is, as the apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians, unseen. So what does that make the Void-Void? The answer to this question is what makes Zen, Zen and to answer the question we turn to the 14th Patriarch of Buddhism—Nagarjuna.

He really knit this together as well as anyone ever has. His expositions on emptiness are sublime. What he leads us all to see is that if emptiness has any validity then it must measure up to emptiness itself. Empty-Emptiness; the Void-Void. Let’s examine this carefully and see where it goes. First, appreciate Nagarjuna’s interest and focus. He was not interested in meaningless philosophy and speculation. He wanted to rip apart speculation and arrive at the residue of truth. He wasn’t trying to create a new dimension of faith. He was working with the raw material spoken by the Buddha, and his focus was the dimensions of reality, which sat on a three-legged stool. The legs were:

1. Emptiness/essence/The Void (sometimes referred to as  Śūnyatā)—our unconditional Self

2. Form/matter/temporal life (in Sanskrit “Rupa”)—Our apparent self

3. Dependent origination

These three integrated measures of reality define what is known in Buddhism as the Middle Way. Here’s how these three fit together. Form must emerge from somewhere. That somewhere is the ‘is’ of ‘is.’ ‘Is’ equals otherness with defined characteristics, which makes it limited in time, space, and causality. ‘Is’ therefore is not the somewhere, otherwise, it would define itself, like a car with no driver. 

The somewhere must not be limited. It must have no properties yet all properties at the same time, therefore the somewhere is the indefinable, transcendent essence, which, as Paul states, is unseen—the Tathagatagarbha (Buddha-womb). These two—form and emptiness—come into existence simultaneously. One can’t precede the other for the same reason that a thinker can’t precede thinking. 

Creation by definition implies a creator just like a thinker implies thinking. This simultaneous arising is what is known as dependent origination. But that dependent origination as stated earlier seems to occur in the imaginary box, which looks like an unsolvable problem.

So let’s take the next step and see how we can resolve it. What is the pinnacle of surrendering? Surrendering from surrendering. What does that mean? It means the logical ground of faith. Surrendering is an action; a motion and form is the instrument of motion, but not the prime mover of the motion. Something must propel the motion of surrendering. It doesn’t occur by itself just as a car requires a driver. Mind essence is the indefinable, unseen Void-Void which propels motion. 

But this mind essence is not mind as we normally think of, as a product of our limited and independent brain. This is the primal mover of all motion. This mind moves flags, the wind, and us. It is the is of “is”.  When Nagarjuna postulates empty-emptiness, the Void is transformed back into form in a never-ending feedback loop, which can’t be separated.

This inseparable feedback loop of form/emptiness is this very special mind essence (our true nature) not emptiness or form but both. If it were one or the other we would still be non-integrated and dual, regardless of logic. 

The Buddha created a completely new paradigm, which brought speculation about self/SELF (anatman/atman) to an end, thus resolving the identity issue. If only emptiness/essence (atman) this would be like a ghost. If only form/flesh (self) this would be the non-walking dead—“Just like a plant or stone”. 

The combined union of emptiness-form provides all that is needed for the existence of life. It has the driver (essence) and the car (form) and the combination—not one or the other—makes the motion of surrendering possible. Neither alone would suffice. The two become one, but the One is two interdependent aspects of the same thing—the Ladder with a Wall. That being the case, dependent origination remains intact but no longer in a box constrained by mundane logic. This union has a name called mind essence. The technical term is the sambhogakaya—one of three aspects of a Buddha.

Attaching to anything, including attachment, creates misery. It is quite possible to become dogmatically undogmatic and cling to a fixed position of being uniquely undogmatic, but that would still leave us attached, resulting in the sort of dilemma we see today with people getting locked into unswerving ideologies and unable to compromise. 

Letting go of everything creates emancipation thus enabling us to conform to actions demanded by evolving circumstances.  When we see that, then we no longer fix our eyes on what is seen but rather fix our eyes what is unseen. What Paul asked of Christian believers to do as an act of blind faith, The Buddha and Nagarjuna reasoned as a logically discerned premise. 

There is a logical foundation for faith, which arose 500 years before Jesus walked the earth, and it came from Gautama Buddha, later to be refined by Nagarjuna sometime during the 2nd century CE, about a hundred years after the apostle Paul died during the 1st century CE. 

The problem is fairly simple to solve once we let go of the fixed limitations of conceptual, mundane logic, by escaping from this box of rational logic and accessing intuitive, supra-mundane logic. When the Heart Sutra says that emptiness is form and form is emptiness we need to look carefully at these words as an equation: as mirror images. The union can’t be broken.

Complete release means surrendering from faith in this material existence and placing our faith completely in the unseen union of mind essence: the Void-Void. From that point on, wisdom shifts from the mundane to spiritual origins and becomes Prajnaparamita—Perfect Wisdom—we enter the realm of Nirvana: “The ‘Dharmata’ (True Essence) of all Buddhas” and then see reality, as it is without discrimination. That is the ultimate wisdom. Complete release means the total absence of delusions, which thus allows the shining jewel of prajna to burst forth.

“Buddhas say emptiness

The problem with the conventional understanding of Paul’s statement is that it keeps God at bay; as a separate reality—in the bye-and-bye, not accessible in the here and now. What the Buddha brought to this discussion is integration. God/Buddha-Nature is both in the bye-and-bye and in the here and now. 

Buddha-Nature can’t be divided and neither can we since we are fundamentally Buddhas. The curious thing about Paul’s statement is not what he said but how it is usually understood. The conventional wisdom of his day—that God lived in heaven in the sky (where the Pie resides)—was used to interpret what he said. If you read his statement carefully you will not find a separate God.

And contrary to the Christian notion that we are separated from God, The Buddha saw this separation as impossible! We could quibble about the difference between God and mind essence and miss the point, which is that every moment within every sphere of existence, our beingness is the inseparable union of the seen (which dies) and the unseen (which lives forever). The true you and the true me is indiscriminate and exactly the same. It has no definable properties yet infuses all properties. Unless this is true then we are all like immovable stones.

This post concludes this series on surrender but more needs to be said about this matter of essence—the true you and me. Without a solid grasp of essence this entire matter floats about in the air with very little practical understanding and nothing is more practical than grasping our true nature.

Note: A sravakas is a disciple and a pratyekabuddhas is a lone Buddha; said to achieve enlightenment on their own, without the use of teachers or guides, by contemplating the principle of dependent arising.

Morning Stars and Oak Trees

There has probably never been a human who didn’t wonder about their own identity and how they fit into the world. 

This matter is what drove The Buddha to endure an ascetic life nearly to the point of death, only to surrender the quest and then experience his revolutionary enlightenment that has since shown millions the way to freedom. During his life, the Indian culture was deeply divided between those who believed in Brahman as the embodiment of permanence, and those who saw life as transient and thus meaningless. The atman (permanence) issue vs. anatman (impermanence) was central to this conflict, and The Buddha’s awakening.

Upon his enlightenment, he saw the morning star and shouted, “That’s it! That’s it! That’s me! That’s me that’s shining so brilliantly!” From the vast distance of 2,500 years, it seems arcane to consider what exactly he meant. Was he actually saying that he was the morning star?

There is a clue in the Mumonkan to this mystery in case number 37—Chao Chou’s, The Oak Tree in the courtyard. “A monk asked Chao Chou, What is the meaning of Bodhidharma’s coming from the west? Chao Chou said, ‘The oak tree in the courtyard.’” If that is the clue, then it isn’t a clear one, but it is there when we look closely and consider the circumstances which prevailed during Gautama’s time—The Atman/anatman debate, which is still a central issue.

What do we humans see when we open our eyes? We see objects, and we consider them “real.” Just as important is what we don’t see (and sense as “unreal”). Our reasoning is universal and wrong. We assume that what we can perceive is reality, and without realizing it, we take up the atman position—things are permanent. Or we take the opposite point of view by recognizing that all things are transient and thus impermanent (anatman). 

We see reality as an either/or proposition and have the same mindset for ourselves. We perceive ourselves as an objectification: a self-image that we view with our subjective faculty and call that projection “my self” (and assume that we are really the seer/atman). The apparent logic here is duality—object vs. subject; seer vs. seen: One part permanent (the subject which sees and is indefinable, yet real), the other part vaporous (the object which is seen, definable yet unreal). What we don’t do—but The Buddha did put the two pieces together. He saw that what he perceived were not two different dimensions but instead, One dimension comprised of two aspects, which he called The Middle Way.

This is the most challenging matter to comprehend but is vitally important—the coalescence of two aspects into One whole Subject/Object. Think carefully about this matter. So long as we see ourselves as either permanent or impermanent, we are left adrift. If permanent, then we conclude that we must be God, which alone is endless, and we are filled with aspects of denial of the impermanence of life. We pretend Nirvana where none exists. If impermanent, then life is worthless, and we adopt an ego-centric, hedonistic posture, which leads to the three poisons (greed, anger, and delusions—suffering). Neither conclusion works.

When The Buddha said, “That’s it! That’s it! That’s me! That’s me that’s shining so brilliantly!” he was acknowledging the fusion of opposites—The Middle Way. He was not one vs. the other. He was both the seer and seen, just as we all are. We are neither isolated and estranged from life, nor are we the singular force that eternally compels and creates life. We are Nagarjuna’s union of convention and ultimate. We are both the seer or the morning star and the star or an Oak Tree in the Courtyard, or the rising and setting of the sun, or any and every dimension of our individual existence. In that sense, our life is just our life, each moment, and nothing more. It is not the star that arose yesterday nor the Oak Tree of tomorrow. Whatever meets our eye, each changing moment is what we are, and not, and it was this reason that Bodhidharma came to China—To establish this unity. This Middle Way of the Buddha is how we make sense and peace of our identity and our world.

Ideas vs. Reality

I have a dear friend who considers himself rationally intelligent and, by his own admission, “skeptical.” I’m sure some people hold this combination in high regard, while others don’t. 

Personally, I champion the combination, and so did The Buddha, who advised us not to blindly believe what others say, even those who appear as holy.

If we were discussing the Easter Bunny we would have a great laugh if some argued that there really was such a thing and most people would agree and laugh along with us. But some matters are not so laughable when the ideas we hold keep us from enjoying an incalculable treasure we already possess. It would be like starving people sitting on a vast treasure buried beneath their own house. Our ideas can be either our best friend or our worst enemy.

When most people think of The Buddha, they conjure up a man who lived a long time ago and can’t imagine what relevance that guy has to them. If this idea were an accurate reflection of The Buddha, their skepticism would have merit. Neither an Easter Bunny nor that old man would matter very much. But suppose I told you that you are a Buddha, only you don’t know it. Now that might get your attention but also cause you to begin thinking I’m the Easter Bunny.

Yes a man lived 2,500 years ago and we know that man as Siddhartha, who upon his enlightenment, became Gautama Buddha. But he wasn’t the only Buddha. There have been countless Buddhas beyond Gautama. The term “Buddha” simply means awakened and according to too many Zen masters to count, Buddha is just a name to designate your own mind. Bodhidharma said the Buddha is your mind; there is no other Buddha but your mind, and that understanding equates with what Gautama himself taught.

So if you are a Buddha, then I am too, and so is everyone else. We all possess the same incalculable treasure buried beneath our conscious awareness, and there it lays hidden and of no use. We are all starving and rushing around like hungry lions snapping at each other, trying desperately to obtain what we already possess. That’s a great tragedy: to be wealthy beyond measure, yet starving while we try to find what is ours. What fools we are.