The we of you and me.

Previously, I published a book, The Non-Identity Crisis—The crisis that endangers our world. The topic of the book concerns a common mistake that everyone makes: We confuse functions with identity, and since we attach ourselves with these, we create unending hardship for others and ourselves.

Let me illustrate what I’m talking about with a small example. In a day, we perform many different functions. We get out of bed, go to the bathroom, prepare and eat meals, drive to various places, talk with people, assume specific roles, and do other things. While we are walking from our beds, we are performing a function called walking. During that time, we could rightly say that we are a walker. One who walks is a walker. One who prepares food is a preparer, driving/driver, talking/talker, so on and so forth. As our functions change, our sense of being changes accordingly.

This matter is compounded with other forms of more enduring activities that lead to misidentification. Some functions are vacillating and short-lived, such as eating or walking. Sometimes we eat, sometimes we walk, but these functions come and go frequently. However, other aspects are more enduring, such as being a parent, a spouse, or a volunteer. But even these can and do change. And there are other matters that we take on that define us, such as national, economic, political, religious, or ideological identities. All of the preceding can be, and are, combined. And all are changing and morphing. None of it stands still, but we do. That much is clearly evident and doesn’t require further explanation. So what’s the issue?

The issue is one of attaching our sense of being and worth to moving targets. If we ever took the time to truly understand ourselves (at the fundamental level), everything would be okay. We don’t, however, take the time to understand ourselves at this bedrock level. Instead, we understand ourselves based on these changing dimensions of mis-identity, and we suffer and create trouble because of this error. 

For example, we may consider ourselves (by way of illustration) as a prosperous American Republican, Christian, spouse, and parent. That is a complex combining, and each part of that combination changes. When we identify with each component (or the complex combination), we feel like our beingness is defined and vulnerable to attack. And then, we take the next step and defend these forms of identity against others who represent themselves differently.

Prosperity is then opposed to the disadvantaged; American is opposed to non-American; Democrat against Republican; Christian against non-Christian, etc. It is quite right that we flock together with birds of a feather to attack and get rid of birds with different feathers. If you wanted to articulate and characterize the core problem we are facing at this point in time, worldwide, it would emanate from this tendency to mis-identify and create forms of hostility against others not like us. This tendency makes it nearly impossible to break the logjam of dysfunction in Washington and worldwide, and that tendency is jeopardizing our mutual welfare.

What’s the solution? Actually, it isn’t that difficult to figure out, but it is challenging to solve. The answer is to take the time to find out who we are, at that fundamental level, because when we do that, we discover that we are one joint human family. Each of us adopts different ways of living. Each of us thinks other thoughts. Each of us performs a nearly infinite breadth of different functions, but none of that is who we are. Who we are is a matter of being, not doing.

So let’s spend some time examining this matter of beingness. Who and what are we? One part of us is clearly changing flesh, bones, related physical stuff, and if you haven’t noticed, all of that is in a continuous state of replication.

The rate of DNA replication for humans is about 50 nucleotides per second per replication fork (a Y-shaped part of a chromosome that is the site for DNA strand separation and then duplication). The physical aspect of us comprises trillions of chromosomes, and each and every one of them is continually being lost and replaced. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder who that wrinkly old guy is and where the young, handsome fellow went. The answer is that we are all sloughing off trillions of cells each and every moment of our lives. There is nothing of our physical being that is permanent, and one day that part of us will go the way of all flesh. But that’s okay because that is not who we are.

The other part of this identity matter is enduring, permanent, and invisible. It is never born and can’t die, but since it is hidden, we can’t detect it through ordinary sensory means. For sure, what we are not is an idea or image. Thoughts flit about like fireflies, but there must be one who is watching these ideas. Thinking doesn’t happen independently from a thinker, but as previously pointed out, thought is just a function: something we do, not who we are. This thing we call ego is an idea, otherwise known as a self-image. It’s a fabricated construction that has been bouncing around forever and is recorded in the literature as far back as 3,500 years ago in India and in ancient Greece. 

Freud co-opted the term as a part of his mapping of the psyche. The Greeks understood it in various ways ranging from the soul to a sense of self. The Buddha understood it as an unreal obstruction that was the source of suffering that blocked access to our true self, and if we’re honest, we can see that egotism is the source of much corruption and greed. The ego is a divisive manifestation that emerges from identifying with functions that leads to alienation and hostility against other not-like-us birds.

So we are neither purely physical nor ideas. We are something much more fundamental that doesn’t change. And what we discover when we thoroughly consider the matter is that this non-identifiable being, which is each of us, is precisely the same. That is our point of commonality, and that is the only thing we have in common. All of us are as unique and different as snowflakes, and all of us are fundamentally just snow.

Today you are you!

The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.

The words above were expressed by Thomas Merton in his book No Man Is an Island. The expression, of course, is meant to apply to another person. But suppose we alter the saying a bit and see how it would then be understood.

The beginning of love is to let ourselves be perfectly who we are, and not to twist to fit an image we hold of ourselves. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves.

The intent of the second expression is to focus attention on the difference between the image we hold of ourselves and who we are, as represented by the image. That intent, of course, presents a formidable challenge to recognize, first, that our true nature is not a reflection. And secondly to accept that we are not what we see but rather the one doing the seeing.

And if this is true for us (as it must be), then it is likewise true for those we love. No one is truly an image, and everyone is truly an unseen seer. The difficulty is that everyone, from the earliest age, right on to the edge of death, is by nature sensorially oriented and everything we sense appears as an image in our brain. That is the universal manner of establishing identity: pure image, a virtual hallucination. Image is everything to the unenlightened, so it should come as no surprise that we have become preeminently concerned with style and very little with substance.

A vast number of people are growing weary of the thin veneer of insubstantial people, of role-playing and pretense, but so long as we remain ignorant of our own identity (which is without form), it is questionable that we will find our way beyond this trap and we will continue to live in fear of being found out and exposed as potential frauds.

Once a person initially loses their ego and awakens to their true identity (which is without form), it is quite disorienting. And it is common to stay, for some time, in a state of pregnant anticipation, awaiting a new image to emerge that replaces the idea of the ego. If the awakening is genuine you can wait until the end of time and never again have a self-image that you believe in. Instead, you will merge, unconditionally, with all sentient beings, and live without an identity.

“Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!”

Gaining and losing.

Much truth here.

“Have you found Jesus? I didn’t know he was lost.”

Okay, so it’s an old joke and more than likely considered sacrilegious by Christians lacking a sense of humor. That likelihood aside, there’s an important point buried in the comedy. And the point? You can’t find what’s never lost, Jesus or anything else. So why does that seem like such a big deal? Simply because of a fundamental belief embedded in our culture that created havoc in my life until I came to my senses. I’ll walk you through the subterfuge, and I’m sure you’ll find your own resonance.

Suppose you’ve been told your entire life that you’re no good, and the reason is that you have been rejected by God. Maybe it took some time, but eventually, you came to believe the lie. And once the idea became a matter of belief, it became cast in stone where it became a plague infecting every relationship you subsequently had, most notably the one you had with yourself. 

And since it was now a sure thing, you began to act as if it were true: That you were no good, and boy did you get confirming feedback, and the belief just became more and more embedded. That vector takes you step-by-step to the big moment of reckoning: suicide. And the reason is really also pretty simple: Rejection by God, and there is nothing you can do about that except take your licks.

And why am I so sure about this? Because I just described my life, except for the last chapter, which is this: You can’t find what’s never been lost. I’ll leave you to try that on for yourself, but here’s a clue: What is absolutely good, can never be conditionally no good.

Will the real Buddha please stand up?

Sixty-four years ago a television game show began running here in the U.S. The show was called To Tell The Truth and involved three challengers, an announcer and a panel of celebrities. The game began with the announcer asking each of the challengers to state their name and their role.

All three claimed to be the same person but only one was telling the truth. For example, each of the challengers might say, “I’m Willie Sutton and I rob banks.” Then the announcer read aloud a detailed description of the claimed identity. The game proceeded by the panelists asking each of the challengers questions and the challengers answered. The goal of the game was for the panelists to determine both the pretenders and the real person.

After asking a number of questions the announcer said, “Will the real Willie Sutton please stand up?” If the panelists were successful they would have guessed the real person. Often the pretenders proved to be accomplished liars and succeeded in throwing the panelists off track.

I remind you of this because we all play that game ourselves. Only we are both the challengers and the panelist but the goal is the same: To determine our real identity. And just like the game show our ego lies to us, pretending to be who we are truly, and this fellow is a very good liar; so good that we aren’t even aware there is another. And there is another difference: Our true identity (not really an identity) is invisible and doesn’t speak.

Consequently, we’re not even able to ask questions and get answers. In our imaginations, we picture The Buddha as an Indian person in flowing robes with floppy ear lobes who lived 2,500 years ago. And indeed such a person did live. His name was Śākyamuni (“Sage of the Śākyas”) and also known as Siddhārtha Gautama. That person succeeded in the identity game and discovered his true, not to be found non-identity and then came to be known as the Tathāgata which means, paradoxically, both one who has thus gone (tathā-gata) and one who has thus come (tathā-āgata).

In other words, he found out who he was and returned to tell us the truth. So what did he discover? Who was he really? And why does that matter to us? He discovered his own not to be found mind and in so doing he discovered who he was not. And it matters to us because the nature of his true identity is the same for you and me. We have the same mind, which is known as bodhi (the mind of enlightenment). In fact, this same mind is The Buddha, not that ancient person with floppy ear lobes. His true identity, and ours, is the not-to-be found mind. There is no other real Buddha except that non-identity.

We choose names for everything but all names are abstractions rather than the real thing. In the case of a non-identity, what names should be chosen? We could call it any name and each would be as non-good as the next. The Buddha chose the name “mind” but in The Diamond Sutra, he said there is no mind therefore we call it mind. The Apostle Paul called it “The mind of Christ.” We could call it “dog” and in each and every case the name would be an abstraction to represent something that can’t be found, but nevertheless is the source of everything.

The father of Zen (Bodhidharma) said this: “The Buddha is the mind. There is no Buddha except the mind; no mind but the Buddha.” The term Buddha actually means to awaken, and what a Buddha awakens to is their complete, true non-self. When that occurs, desire (the culprit that sets the engine of suffering in motion) goes away, and the reason is actually quite simple. Desire is the flip side of fulfillment.

Only someone who experiences himself or herself being un-fulfilled, desires. The experience of completion destroys desire. The ego can never experience completion because it is never fulfilled. However, the real person we are is always fulfilled and it is the real person who wakes up and discovers completion. So, as peculiar as that may seem, the real question is, “Why does that matter?”

It matters because the shocking truth means that we are all essentially Buddhas awaiting discovery. We spend our entire lives trying to find ourselves going down one blind alley after another and every time we find nothing substantial. We are all Don Quixote chasing windmills. The only real and lasting part of us is our not-to-be found mind. Only that is substantial. Everything else is just a feather in the wind.

The fundamental “why” of suffering.

Everyone suffers, nobody wants to, and the vast majority of

The truth about suffering and change.

humanity wonders “why.” The short, answer is desire (or craving): We suffer because we crave something (or someone) and so long as we possess or achieve the object(s) of our desire, all is well, but nothing lasts forever, and when that object is no longer ours, we suffer. We attach our identities to many forms, and when those forms of dependency change for the worst, the experience of loss is nearly identical for us. In a very powerful way, we are yo-yo’s on the string of our dependencies, none of which we can control. And the principle reason we build dependent identities in the first place is that (1) we think there is such a thing as a lasting identity, and (2) we surely do not know who and what we are. If we did, then we would have no need to go searching for what we have already. Desire per se is not the problem. Attachment is.

But that’s only a surface answer. We desire many positive things, such as a desire to be free of suffering. We desire to love and to be loved. We desire joy, compassion, kindness, freedom, humility, and other desirable human qualities. Are we not supposed to desires such things? What would life be like without those positive qualities?

So the short answer is not enough since mortal life, albeit fleeting, would be grim without those qualities. To adequately explain the problem of suffering, it is necessary to not only understand the locus of suffering but to experience the opposite, which is joy. The easy part is the explanation. The hard part is the experience. Yet once we experience the two extremes, we must not attempt to trap and retain the experience. To do so would just be attaching ourselves all over again, with the same outcome. Trying to make permanent (and retain it) would then be like wiping excrements from our “arses” and then holding onto the soiled tissue.

One of the most preeminent Buddhist patriarchs (Nāgārjuna) summed up this challenge with what has now become known as The Two Truth Doctrine.

In Nāgārjuna’s Mūlamadhyamakakārikā, the two truths doctrine explains an overarching transcendent truth (Dharma) of the two aspects that join all things together. The two aspects are dependent origination (pratītyasamutpāda) and emptiness (śūnyatā). And here is the exposition by Nāgārjuna.

“The Buddha’s teaching of the Dharma is based on two truths: a truth of worldly convention (e.g., relative/conditional truth—my addition) and an ultimate (absolute/unconditional—my addition) truth. Those who do not understand the distinction drawn between these two truths do not understand the Buddha’s profound truth. Without a foundation in the conventional truth, the significance of the ultimate cannot be taught. Without understanding the significance of the ultimate, liberation is not achieved.”

Delving into the essence of this doctrine can be daunting. However, when the dust is blown away, the answer appears in radiant splendor. Relative truth is based on the perception of what we can see, touch, feel, smell, hear, and think. That perception tells us we are all different, distinct and judgmentally, relatively worthy, or not. That seeming truth is the basis of our ordinary sense of self (e.g., ego). And so long as anyone understands themselves, and others, that way, there will be conflicts of dogmatic “rights” vs. tightly entrenched “wrongs.” War (of one form or another) will perpetuate, and suffering will be the outcome.

Critical to this perspective is the two-fold premises of śūnyatā/emptiness and (pratītyasamutpāda)/dependent origination—the combined principle saying that everything can exist only with an opposite dimension, and this truth transcends all changes. This way of understanding human nature, and conduct, is a given and applies to all changes. Consequently, conditional truth exists only because of unconditional truth. The core of this view is consciousness without conditions. While the shell—the container surrounding that core level, is capable of being perceived. The shell is conditionally objective in nature, and everything objective is always changing. Ultimately anything with an objective nature will die. All conditional, material things go through a life-cycle of birth, growth, decline, and death.

To arrive at the core we must break through the outer material shell. Yet it is this central core that destroys that shell of egotism, and thus enables us to experience transcendental existence. Anything that is unconditional is without differentiation, and therefore identical to things that seem different perceptibly. And neither the relative shell nor the unconditional core can exist apart from the other—they are a single, united, composite entity, just as a shell contains a nut-meat.

Consequently, the challenge appears to be illogical. It would seem that the awareness of the unconditional must emerge before we have the equipment required to perform the task. The central problem is, thus, how? The answer is that ultimate truth (that seems locked away and out of touch) must initiate the process of destroying the false object-based ego-fabrication from the inside/out as a baby turtle must peck away the outer encasement to be set free and live.

What appears above is an explanation but not the experience (which alone will set you free from suffering). Zen Master Sokei-an Shigetsu Sasaki said: 

“If you really experience ‘IT’ with your positive shining soul, you really find freedom. No one will be able to control you with names or memory of words—Socrates, Christ, Buddha. Those teachers were talking about consciousness. Consciousness is common to everyone. When you find your true consciousness, you will not need the names or words of any teacher.”

The experience alone will set you free from suffering, and arising simultaneously will be the realization that all of us are absolutely the same at the core. The core of unconditionally, transcendent truth and wisdom are eternally present all of the time, and we go throughout life unaware of our own capacity. As a result, we shape our lives—by unknowing design—to be yo-yo’s with waves of suffering and joy: a package deal that can’t be broken any more than magnets can be torn apart.

The core of pure, unadulterated consciousness just reflects like a mirror. It never dies; it doesn’t make judgments of good and bad; it eradicates the fear of dying since it is eternal, and at that deep level of being, we will know with certainty that there is serenity amid relative disaster. We—our eternal essence—can not die! It is only the outer shell that will die, and then we will be set free from a prison we didn’t know existed—the prison of the mind: The ultimate prison, within which all other forms of bondage exist. The greatest, the supreme task of life is to be set free from that prison. Then we will be transformed and our mind renewed.

But for sure, some may say, yes that may be so but what about the relative suffering of the world? Are we to simply “take the money and run” into seclusion with our new-found wisdom and security? And the answer to that question is the mission of a Bodhisattva—one who has experienced unconditional unity—the experience just depicted and chose to return into the fray to heighten awareness that suffering has a solution.

And what must never be ignored is the value of suffering itself: The motivation that compels us all to seek a solution. Bodhidharma pointed out that we must accept suffering with gratitude since when we experience it, only then are we compelled to reach beyond misery to find the way to bliss and eternal joy. He said, 

“Every suffering is a buddha-seed because suffering impels us to seek wisdom. But you can only say that suffering gives rise to buddhahood. You can’t say that suffering is buddhahood.”

It is our natural, mortal tendency to resist what each of us considers the bad and savor only what we understand as the good. Still, the nature of relative life is constant change—here today, gone tomorrow and therein is the dilemma and the solution: We must recognize that nobody wants to awaken from a good dream. We all aspire to steer clear of bad ones.

In conclusion, I’ll share a poem of profound wisdom written by Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī (or simply Rūmī), the 13th-century poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic. It is called The Guest House.

“Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.”

It is challenging to notice that a door closing, by definition, has another side that is known as a door opening. Closing and opening are the two haves of the same matter of growth. Life and death are to be seen like this. That is transcendent dharma.

YOU

Thinkers think thoughts.

Thoughts produce thinkers.

Thoughts are about things.

Non-things are not thoughts.

Thoughts are not things.

Both thoughts and thinkers are unreal.

Non-things are not unreal.

Abstractions are thoughts about what’s real.

You are not an abstraction.

You are a real non-thing.

Thoughts about you are not real.

What is real is not a thought.

You are real and not a thought.

When you think, abstractions appear.

When you stop thinking, you appear.

Think about this and you’ll be lost in thought.

Don’t think about this and you’re ready, for the next thought.

Thinking Outside The Box.

From time to time, it’s worth recycling some posts. This one, in particular, is such a post since it addresses the underpinnings of how life works, so desperately needed at the current time. All that we do is based on thinking. It happens so naturally we rarely connect the dots. The Buddha said, “We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.” So today here is a follow-up post about thinking.

From the time of birth all the way to the end, we never stop thinking. We do it while we are awake, and while we’re sleeping, in the form of dreams. Only for brief moments is there a lull in this cerebral activity, and that is both a blessing and a curse. Because we think, we can imagine, and that allows us to create and invent things almost unimaginable. As we invent, others can experience and learn about our inventions and innovate improvements to create entirely new inventions. One creation serves as a building block for the next, and the creative process expands geometrically. There would appear to be no end to our creative capacities. The only obstacle to this process is what blocks clarity that impedes progress.

Thinking is a two-edged sword. Not only does it equip us with problem-solving skills, but it also provides us with the capacity to create problems. Because we think we can’t help thinking about ourselves, and we do this based on the nature of thoughts. A thought is, in simple terms, a mental image, a virtual projection manipulated in our brains. The image is not a real thing. It is an abstraction of something real. We open our eyes, and we see external images. We close our eyes, and we see internal images. What we fail to realize is that all images are actually being registered in our brains. What appears as “out there” is, in truth, nothing more than a virtual projection being registered in our primary visual cortex where it is “seen,” and based on this projection, our brain tells us “out there.”

But this is not the end of the matter. These images are then subjected to cognitive processing and recording in memory.  Some experiences are pleasurable, and others are not. When we experience pleasure, we want to grasp and retain comfort. When it is undesirable, we remember that as well and do our best to avoid such events occurring again. This is a learning process in which we engage to do what we can to maximize pleasure and minimize pain, but we soon learn that such a thing is beyond our control. What brings us pleasure in a moment brings us pain in the next. Phenomenal life is constantly changing.

This fundamental desire to avoid pain and retain pleasure is a trap that ends up creating the opposite of what we seek because we attach our sense of self-worth to moving targets. As the objects of desire come to an end, suffering follows. What we set out to avoid, soon comes our way. And out of this ebb and flow, we develop a sense of ourselves. We wonder about the one doing the thinking and make flawed conclusions. When adversity occurs, we imagine that we brought it upon ourselves—which is right in many cases. When pleasure comes our way, we imagine that we singularly created the conditions that made it possible. Gradually we form an image of ourselves, which we’ve learned to label an ego—a self-image that is no more real than every other abstraction produced by our brains.

All images are projections—the ones we see externally, which we presume is our real world of objects, the ones we see in our mind’s eye, and the images we develop about ourselves. None of it is anything other than abstract images recorded in our brains, not much different than the images projected onto a movie screen. All of it looks real, so we respond as if it were, and that results in significant problems for ourselves and people with whom we share our world. 

Out of this flaw of perception and processing comes certain conclusions. We conclude that we can trust some people and not others. We conclude that to survive and prosper, we must hoard and save for a rainy day. We conclude that greed is good, and we get angry when people draw attention to this flawed conclusion that jeopardizes our egotistical plans. Life then becomes a competition with winners and losers, and things turn out the same way as before. We wanted to maximize pleasure and avoid pain. The result is the opposite because our aggressive lust leads us into isolation, alienation, and jeopardy with the very same people we need to ensure our desires.

Thinking, thinking, thinking: It never stops from birth till death. It is both a blessing and a curse, and we thus create both wondrous inventions and means of destruction. As a result, life balances on a razor’s edge between greatness and evil. That’s life, so what’s Zen?

Long before there was science, of any kind, people were natural scientists and engaged in the scientific method. They wondered. They created hypotheses. They tested these ideas in various ways. They found out through trial and error what worked and what didn’t, and they learned just like scientists do today. Now we have formal sciences, and one of these is neurology: the study of the brain. Zen is the study of the mind and is conducted almost precisely as any science is done —through observation but not with tools. In Zen, the mind uses itself to examine what it produces: the coming and going of thoughts and emotions. When thoughts arise, they are observed as unreal images. When they subside, we are left with silence of what seems to be a definable observer, but in truth is simply consciousness.

We live in a time awash in technology and assume that it is based on electronics. But the principle of technology is much broader. Fundamentally technology means an application of knowledge, especially in a particular area that provides a means of accomplishing a task. Anything from a simple hammer to charting the cosmos properly belongs to the realm of technology.

The common-coin understanding of Zen is wrong. Ordinarily, Zen is considered to be a branch on the tree of Buddhism, but what many people don’t realize is that Zen came first, a long time before there was such a thing as the religion of Buddhism. The original name for Zen was dhyana and is recorded in history as far back as 7,000 years. The Buddha lived around 2,500 years ago and used the mental technology of Zen to experience his enlightenment. Properly speaking, it isn’t Zen Buddhism but rather Buddhist Zen—the mystical form of Buddhism. All orthodox religions have mystical arms, and all of them have meditation as a core principle. 

More than 300 years ago, Voltaire, a famous French Enlightenment writer, historian, and philosopher, defined mediation in a way quite similar to Bodhidharma (“Zen is not thinking”). He put it this way: “Meditation is the dissolution of thoughts in Eternal awareness or Pure consciousness without objectification, knowing without thinking, merging finitude in infinity.” While Zen isn’t electronic, it is similar since our brain works by exchanging electrical transmissions, and Zen is the most thoroughgoing technology ever conceived for fathoming the human mind.

Because of scientific advances that have occurred in our time, we know the human brain is the most sophisticated computer ever and is capable of calculation speeds a billion times faster than any machine yet built. Furthermore, it is “dual-core,” computing in parallel mode with entirely different methods. One side works like a serial processor (our left hemisphere), and the other works as a parallel processor (or right hemisphere). On the left side of our brain is the image factory, creating thought images, and on the right side of our brain is the one watching the images. The left creates code, and the right reads the code. The left is very good at analyzing, dissecting, and abstracting while the right interprets and says what it all means. The right side “thinks” in pictures (interpreting the images). The left side talks but doesn’t understand, and the right side understands but doesn’t talk. Together the two sides make a great team, but individually they make bad company.

Zen is the mental technology of using the mind to understand itself. The true mind watches the movement and arising of the code to grasp how the “machine” works. Everything perceived and processed is applied consciousness and is watched. There is a conditional and object-oriented aspect, and there is an unconditional objectless aspect. Both sides of our brain have no exclusive and independent status. Only when they function together are they of much use. It is much like a wheel: the outside moves while the inside is empty and is the axle around which the external wheel moves. Our conscious subjective center is unseen and without form. Our objective nature has form and is seen.

In a metaphorical way, our brain could be considered hardware and our mind software. Software instructs the hardware on how to operate. Together these two are mirror opposites and rely upon the other side. In Buddhist terminology, this relationship is called dependent arising, (alternatively dependent origination) which means they can only exist together. The two sides of our brain are mirror partners. An inside requires an outside. They come and go together. Neither side can exist separately. Everything can only exist in that way.

The entire universe, in infinite configuration and form, is mostly empty. If you delve into quantum physics, you arrive at nothing. If you go to the farthest reaches of space, you arrive at nothing. Before the Big-Bang, there was nothing. Now there is everything. Everything is the same thing as nothing. And this fantastic awareness comes about by merely watching the coming and going of the manifestations of our mind. Through Zen, we learn about both the subjective/empty and the objective/full nature of ourselves. And what we discover through this process of watching and learning is quite amazing. The primary lesson learned is that there is both an image that is not real and a conscious reality that watches the images.

We think in image forms. Thoughts are not real. They are abstractions, coded messages that represent something but are not what’s being described. In our minds-eye, we see a constant flow of images and ordinarily imagine these images are real and, in such a state of mind, go unaware that there is a conscious faculty that watching this flow. That’s what being aware of our thoughts means. There is “one” who is watching, and there is what’s being watched. In truth, this “one” is not a person, but rather a capacity and function.  Neither of these (the watcher or the watched) can exist by itself. It takes both for thinking to occur.

The problem with our world today is that we are predominantly left-brain analyzers and have not been trained to make sense of what’s being analyzed. The imagined self (ego) is self-righteous, self-centered, greedy, possessive, hostile, and angry. The problem with identity is that we assume that there are an objective and independent watcher doing the watching, and we label that watcher as “me”—a self-image (otherwise called an ego). But here is where this must lead. So long as we see an image of ourselves, that image (ego) can’t possibly be the watcher because the watcher can’t see itself. So long as we see any images (self-image included), there is a difference between what is being watched and the watcher.

Education (in a usual sense) trains our language and analytics capacities but ignores the functions that enhance compassion, creativity, and insight. Consequently, we are out of balance aggressors, dominated by our egos and unaware that we are creating an abstract and unreal world that is progressively more and more violent and hostile.

The true “person” has no image dimension because all images are objective, whereas the true person is subjective consciousness. Subject/Object—two halves joined together into a single real person. One part can be seen (an image), and the other part can’t be seen (consciousness watching the image). An image isn’t real. It just looks that way. The consciousness part that is real—unconditionally the same in all sentient beings—is the part that can’t be seen. The entire time of remaining in this image-based realm, restricted by conceptual thought, is, in fact, a reflection of reality: a dream. When we move beyond thinking to the reality of pure consciousness, we wake up into an imageless realm (the root from which all things emanate), that is too incredible to describe.

How high is the sky, how deep is the ocean of consciousness?

The depths of consciousness

The Buddhist concept of 9 levels of consciousness provides a great template for a life of transformative change. And it matters not at all what religion you choose. The teaching of the close interconnectedness of all living things is universal. It shows how changes we make for the better in our lives lead to positive changes in others. We are all connected like myriad cogwheels, which is true regardless of any religious affiliation.

It is doubtful that anyone questions the depth of the first five levels of consciousness since we use these 24/7 to interface with the outside world in which we live: Sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch are as deep as the vast majority go. And their world is understood based on these perceptible, objective measurements. The next level is the commingling (gestalt) of these five, and we know it as the “quotidian” (e.g., common/everyday) mind of thoughts and emotions. For most, these first 6 levels of consciousness are where we spend most of our time performing daily activities. 

Then comes a deeper level of consciousness of inward-looking rather than an outward orientation. This 7th level is what we would call the discriminating mind, concerned with the sense of self (ego) and our ability to distinguish between good and evil. Everything is separated, mutually exclusive, alienated between opposites, based on the first six levels of perception and processing, like an upside-down tree with roots in the air.

Deeper yet is the 8th level, where the seeds of karma from previous lives reside. This level is known as the Alaya-vijnana: The Storehouse Consciousness: the place where all the actions and experiences in this life and previous lives generated by the seven consciousnesses are stored as karma. It is the only level of consciousness that comes along with every mortal birth. This compendium level influences the workings of the other seven consciousnesses by coloring (biasing) the layers of consciousness above (e.g.,. metaphorically, rose-colored glasses). 

Because of the karmic seeds (Vāsanā) contained in the storehouse, one may die a premature death, be stricken with unexpected disease or inexplicable misfortune, be overcome by strong desires, aversions, and obsessions, can think and do things that one should never even imagine by the judgment of the level of morality of the ego. So strong is the influence of these seeds, a person may not wish to harm anyone and yet end up killing a hundred or a thousand people. He or she is, in fact, acting out to the influence of past karma contained in the karmic storehouse.

The base consciousness—the foundation of them all, is like the ocean floor. It is known as the ground of all being and is free from the impurities and filters of karma. Therefore, it is called the fundamental pure consciousness, without blemish of any kind (e.g., Vāsanā, based preconceived notions). This is the ground level basis of all life, and being free of impurities, it is known as emptiness (Śūnyatā in Sanskrit—the realm of Enlightenment). Upon this base lies the deep and the waves of change. Yet, unexpectedly, at this level, one finds within themselves a structure of wisdom and compassion, without limits). No ocean exists without both a base and the waters above. This level was illustrated in a parable told by Jesus in Luke 6:46-48 when the base is washed clean of what lay above.

The “how-to” exercise of genuine awakening to all levels is a matter of going within, plunging downward, deep through the depths of darkness, into and through the “mud” of the sub-conscious, facing and resolving the obstacles that block our true nature and thus releasing the seeds of loving-kindness. It is like the shaft of a lotus plant, reaching upward through the depths toward the sun. Becoming aware of the entire fullness of mind entails first dissolving the artificial sense of individual existence, as a single drop merges with the ocean. 

When you are set free from knowing who you are not, then immediately, faster than a bolt of lightning, you become Self-aware, not as an image, but rather that which you are truly: Identical to, and merged with, every other drop that constitutes the entire ocean of consciousness. This profound process concludes with the realization of inherent perfection, the ancient Greeks called teleos—completion or arrival.

Understanding our mind is essential to the discernment of our true nature, and without that understanding, we will remain vulnerable to the influence of the ignorant and despots. The father of Zen said this: “The mind is the root from which all things grow if you can understand the mind, everything else is included. It’s like the root of a tree. All a tree’s fruit and flowers, branches, and leaves depend on its root. If you nourish its root, a tree multiplies. If you cut its root, it dies. Those who understand the mind reach enlightenment with minimal effort.”—Bodhidharma, The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma

Question: Does suffering have a positive side?

Someone close to me asked this question, and to give a proper answer, I found it necessary to first define some terms. 

Suffering is a mental/emotional response to not getting what we want. Next, I had to define who is experiencing this suffering and how this entity perceives a positive outcome. And by positive, I mean the perception of satisfaction.  Our ordinary way of answering this entity question is with the answer of me. Yet who is this me? And how is this me perceived or experienced?

By understanding the mechanics of perception, we can better understand how “I” becomes the core of corruption and sadness. Perception requires several dimensions. First, there must be a sensory system. We have five interdependent components of our system: sight, smell, auditory, touch, taste, and a thinking processor. Signals from each element are transmitted from objects to particular registry locations in our brain where they are identified, merged with other sensory dimensions into a gestalt, and coded into words and thoughts. For example, the object of a rose is fabricated into a mental image constructed from the merged registry’s of sight, smell, and touch, which is then labeled Rose.

The second aspect of perception entails observation of objects. For objects to be sensed, they must be distinguished from other objects, and to be understood, they must be differentiated (e.g., discriminated) into two opposite dimensions. An object is defined as an observable thing. Observation can be either physical or mental. An idea is a mental image (or object), whereas a rose is a physical object that becomes a mental image. The idea of a rose is different than an actual rose, and the word rose is different yet. Both the word and an idea are abstractions, or codes, to represent a real rose and both enable imagination and communication. To be perceived and understood, an object requires contrast (discriminate properties). For example, the idea of up only makes sense given the opposite of down; in opposed to out, a rose opposed to a non-rose.

The third and most important dimension of perception regards one who perceives (an observer) and the understanding that a true perceiver can’t perceive itself, since this perceiver has no observable properties or limiting identity yet can perceive anything objectively configured. This perceiver is our spiritual nature (versus our objective nature) and is understood as the true, unconditional mind. The mind is the locus of all perceptions, whereas the ordinary way of understanding the mind is a manifestation of the true mind (mental images, thoughts, and emotions).

Now we return to this idea of me. The same process of perception is involved with this me; only in the case of self-identification, there is no object to perceive except a physical body and a mental image of who we think we are: an ego or soul. In various traditions (religious, philosophical, etc.), the term “soul” was considered to be the psyche, from which the word “psychology” arises. The ancient Greeks expressed this as ψυχή, (e.g., Soul) and within the Buddhist tradition, it was known as Atman or Moksha. And it was understood in a similar fashion: The origin within human nature that produces mental images, thoughts, and emotions. Alternatively, the soul was understood as ego—the universal word for “I.” 

This mental image is now mostly understood as a totally fabricated, imaginary entity. Nevertheless, the image satisfies the requirement of being a conditional, discriminate object, which can be perceived by the one doing the perceiving. Thus there is an object of perception (self-image) and our spiritual being that is perceiving. It is essential to not confuse two terms: self and mind. Both the true Self and the true Mind are used synonymously. Neither has any identifiable properties since neither are objects. However, we have ideas about both. We imagine that the mind is the manifestation rather than the source. The distinction between a manifestation and the source is preeminent. 

The source of creation is vastly different from what is fabricated or created, just as a manufacturing plant is different from what is manufactured in the plant. The ideas we possess about ourselves are simply the product of imagination. Whether we label these ideas as ego/self-image or soul, they remain imaginary. We imagine a self that is an objective fabrication rather than who we truly are: The unconditional spiritual source. And as with anything else, there must be the two opposite parts that allow perception to occur. Importantly these two (self-image and the Self, represented by the image) are opposite in nature, just as up is opposite from down. The ego/soul is perceived, and we conclude, “that’s me.” But the ego is not the true self. It is a fabricated image to represent the self, and this ego is entirely unaware of the one creating and perceiving the image because the perceiver can’t be seen. The true Self is not conditionally objective; instead, it is unconditional without a limiting identity, which means that the true Self is identical in every sentient being, and is known as Buddha-nature. But to realize this within yourself is the antithesis of who we think we are. Meister Eckhart, perhaps the greatest of all Christian mystics—very close in his understanding to the most esteemed Zen Masters said: 

“The shell must be cracked apart if what is in it is to come out, for if you want the kernel you must break the shell.” 

Of course, he was speaking of cracking the ego to discover our true nature within. We, humans, are superior problem solvers, but we only solve obvious ones, and we say, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” If we are continuously satisfied, there is no perceived problem and, thus, nothing to solve. People live their entire lives, denying their own suffering. Still, suffering is unavoidable so long as we misunderstand our true, unconditional nature but instead see ourselves as a vulnerable and conditional soul or ego. Suffering then is the seed of motivation to learn both who we are not and who we are truly. 

The ego is continuously vulnerable to suffering and wrongly concludes that possessing one object (which, when lost) can be solved by possessing another object to replace the one lost. Thus, the ego is possessive and greedy. This never works since all things change. After experiencing this failing process over and over, the ego is overwhelmed, suffers continuously, and becomes angry, hostile, blameful, and often violent. This strategy ultimately implodes, and the ego tries a very different approach but is not quick to commit suicide and eradicate itself.

The problem all along is this process of perception and conclusion of judgmental discrimination, me vs. not me, good vs. evil, all of which are concerned with objects and judgment. At long last, after endless suffering, the ego/soul begins to die, and we pursue a path of true Self-emergence and unity with our source, which has no identifying properties. This death of what is fabricated reveals what has been there all along, as a clear sky is revealed when clouds move away and are characterized within different spiritual disciplines in different ways.

The Buddhist manner of addressing this process is nearly the same as the Christian manner. When The Christ was quoted as saying in John 12:24-25 (“Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”) he wasn’t saying anything significantly different than The Buddha when he distinguished between the Dharmakāya (body of truth as the source of all manifestations) and the misidentification of ourselves. Immortality encloses mortality. 

The question becomes, how to get rid of the conditional illusions or images we hold of ourselves and merge with our unconditional selves? How is this pragmatically accomplished? And the answer is to stop the process of abstract thinking (imagining) at least long enough to realize our true nature. The father of Zen (Bodhidharma) defined Zen as not thinking. Thinking, in simple terms, is the perception of virtual ideas and images. When we don’t think, what we are left with is the true Self-perceiver (The spiritual Mind) that is unified and unconditional (no discriminate properties). This true Self-perceiver is who all of us are, unconditionally and without limited identity. This is the essential conscious energy that permeates all life and is the place of constant peace and tranquility. This part of us never changes. It was never born, doesn’t die, and is without judgment. There is nothing to discriminate or judge since it is unconditional, unified, and whole.

In The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma, he taught: 

“Every suffering is a buddha-seed, because suffering impels mortals to seek wisdom. But you can only say that suffering gives rise to buddhahood. You can’t say that suffering is buddhahood. Your body and mind are the field. Suffering is the seed, wisdom the sprout, and buddhahood the grain.”

If there were no suffering, we would never search for the truth. It is anguish and suffering that goes on impelling us to reach beyond. This entire dawning of genuine, unified, Self-awareness (soul-awareness) could not happen without solving the problem of perceived suffering. Suffering alone provides the engine of motivation, and that is the value of suffering.

We are now deeply involved in a time when suffering is vast. Not only are we trying to survive a global pandemic, but we are also facing a warming climate that will ultimately mean our destruction, we are perhaps, at long last, coming to terms with racism, millions are now unemployed, losing their means of living and facing starvation. Hatred and violence are running rampid and the outlook, from a mortal perspective is grim. And yet, there is a rising tide of motivation to solve these issues. It may be the dawn of a time of significant transformation.

Identity?

The dissolving ego.

The last two posts (Karma and the Wheel of Life and Death and Karma and The Wheel of Dharma) were critical in understanding how we get into on-going trouble and how to get emancipated. Both messages may have seemed arcane and esoteric. I am aware of the difficulty, particularly among Western audiences, when coming to terms with the essential aspects of these messages. For that reason, I employed metaphors of dust and viruses. 

However, the wisdom contained in these two is so important that I want to go to the heart of the teaching, pull out the core, and do a summation, in layman’s terms. What lies at the core of them both is how we understand our human nature. Everyone, in all times and places, develops a sense of who they are, who others are, how we regard our self-understanding, and what this means to our place in the world. The admonition of the Golden Rule:  “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets,” is not incorrect. However, essential to that teaching takes us to the core of not only that teaching, but also to the core of the last two posts. Do we hate ourselves? Love ourselves? Think we are God’s gift to the world? Or perhaps a piece of crap. Whatever self-view we possess determines how we treat others and what we expect from them. Any and all, unenlightened view of ourselves, boils down to one simple principle, and how we understand that principle: Ego.

I could readily quote innumerable passages from exalted Zen Masters that speak to this matter of ego and self-understanding, but not now. If you are interested in that sort of presentation, you can click on the “SEO keyword” ego, located at the bottom of this post, and it will take you to numerous other posts about this matter of a deluded idea of who we are. Today, however, I want to speak in common terms that anyone can understand if they are so inclined. I will take you to the waters, but I can’t make you drink.

So what exactly is an “ego” and how does it make a difference, to ourselves, to others, and to the world. The word, in all languages and traditions, means “I,” not any “I” but the honest, in-the-dark-of-night “I,” when it is still, and nobody is watching. In that darkness, nobody is observing us, there is nobody to impress or be persuaded, and there is just you, in the dark, alone with your own thoughts—which could keep you awake at night. Our egos are a corrupted notion that we all create to identify ourselves. It is formed, shaped, refined, and comes to be essential to everything we say and do. Importantly, the ego is an idea, an image of self (self-image) that depends on many inputs. Those inputs come from family, friends, teachers, significant others—many, many sources, over a long period of time.

In the simplest of terms, it boils down to building an identity out of bricks of clay. And perhaps the most important of those bricks come early in life—how we were treated as children by those in whom we were most vested: those that mattered most—our family and/or the people we trusted and considered significant to our wellbeing. If those treated us kindly, we developed a good sense of ourselves. If they treated us badly, we developed a poor sense of ourselves. And those initial building blocks served as the foundation of what followed, which may, or may not, have reinforced those initial ideas. But even at a young age, what we came to think of ourselves, determined how we behaved and the feed-back we received resulting from that behavior. “As you think, so shall you become.”  That principle is universal, and you can find it presented from many sources.

Let’s take the next step in this progression. Suppose our significant, trusted people, critical to shaping those initial building blocks, treated us kindly. In such a case, our ego-sense becomes attached to those people, and then something terrible happens: They die or go away. What then happens is devastating to our mental/emotional wellbeing: We suffer. On the other hand, consider the opposite—We are treated poorly (and we come to regard ourselves poorly), nevertheless becoming attached to our own, now-ingested opinion, set in motion by those people. Both of these are forms of attachment, and they are both just ideas (images if you prefer). In the first case, we have attached to what we like, and in the other case, we are attached to what we don’t like.

Life is a moving ship on a body of water, that changes with the tides of life. Up and down, the waves move, and our egos bounce like a cork on the surface. There is no stability with that arrangement—only turbulence. What we fail to consider is what lies beneath those changing waves; at the sea bottom where nothing changes. That analogy is not about turbulent water or the bottom of the sea. It concerns identity, changing, or not. At the base depths of our thinking mind is the subconscious mind; way down there where our thoughts are “out of sight/out of mind.” Only they are never out of mind. They have just moved from our conscious/thinking mind into our subconscious mind, but they never leave. In that universal way, we are all trapped; some thinking poorly of themselves and others thinking they are superior to others.

What the quests for our true (not imagined) self entails is plunging, through whatever came before: the entire, cumulative formation of the ego, to the depths of our souls, and experiencing—not thinking—our genuine Self. This pathway is not one of rational thinking but is instead a transforming, intimately personal Spiritual experience. And when I say, “Spiritual,” I do not mean a religious one. I do mean the genuine experience of your very own spirit, that has no clothing, no identity, no “ego,” no anything. You then wake up (e.g., the term “Buddha” means awaken) to an indiscriminate, universal unity with all, that is not an isolated “you” but is the same as everyone else. In that spiritual realm, there is not an iota of difference between you and anyone, regardless of whatever bodily differences, or idea you may hold of yourself. Then you are a true man (or woman) with rank. 

The ego, at that moment, evaporates like the disappearance of mist upon the rising of the sun, and you realize the one doing the quest is one and the same as the one being sought after. And at that moment, that comes like a flash of lightning, your entire understanding changes radically—the self is transformed into Self as a worm is transformed into a butterfly. And then you have returned to a non-identity that never left.