Nagarjuna’s teaching on essence.

The bloom of essence.

There’s an inherent danger in wrongly understanding the two facets of our virtual and non-virtual sides. The non-virtual side is easy to perceive. We are immersed in that side as fish are in the water. And yes, without being aware, there is a virtual side to all of us. 

“Virtual,” in this sense, means almost as described, but not wholly: Not essential. It’s tempting to focus on one side at the exclusion of the other. When The Buddha first passed on the teachings of the real (Atman/our True Self) and the unreal (anatman/our imagined self), this same misunderstanding arose. Orthodox Buddhism denies the existence of Atman/the true Self, claiming that everything is null and void, arguing one side but denying the other, which Nagarjuna nailed as nihilism yet to deny the ego/virtual, results in eternalism. 

This argument is counter to the premise of dependent origination, which is foundational to Buddhism as well as the teachings of The Buddha himself. The obvious point missed in this misunderstanding is that emptiness (the ineffable nature of the Self) is itself empty (non-empty and thus non-dual). Does the true Self exist? Nagarjuna would answer yes and no—the Middle Way. If the essence of Self exists, then nobody, except the true Self, would know without the counterweight of anatman. We only know by way of comparison and our perceptual capacities that adhere to anatman.

In the Western world, we were reared under the rule of law that says that if something is one way, it can’t be another way. The world is either black or white. If it is black, then by definition, it is not white (and the reverse). Nagarjuna—father of Mahāyāna Buddhism destroyed that comfort zone. We want things to be independent, discrete, separate, and tidy. If I am right, then you must be wrong. 

Our entire Western world functions as a subset of that logical premise, established by Aristotle with his Principle of non-contradiction (PNC): The assertion that if something is conditionally “B,” it can’t be “A” at the same time, in the same place. That conditional principle underscores our sense of justice, ethics, legal system, and everything else. It defines the contemporary problems that lead to vast irresponsibility and abuse all the way from interpersonal relations to environmental destruction. The PNC is inconsistent with the interconnectedness of life.

The fact of the matter is that nothing fits with the desire of “is” or “is not.” Mahāyāna Buddhism teaches The Middle Way—that nothing is independent, discrete, and separate. Rather everything arises interdependently. One side (to exist) requires another side. This notion of dependent origination/relativity is the natural manifestation of emptiness (Śūnyatā), which states that nothing contains an intrinsic substance, which is to say that reality exists in two, inseparable dimensions at once, that Nagarjuna labeled Conventional and Sublime or in his teaching on Essence and Non-essence. Importantly he did not say that essence does not exist. Nor did he say that non-essence exists. What he did say is that these two live interdependently. They are mirror images of one another, and neither can exist without the other (much less be fathomed). These are just alternative names we use to represent form and emptiness, which The Heart Sutra says is a single, indivisible reality.

Is there a self (anatman/ego)? A Self (Atman)? These concepts are abstractions and fabrications. The Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra directly addresses the question and says, without equivocation, that the Self is just another name for Buddha-dhatu/the true immaculate Self—the only substantial reality. It stretches the definition of a Buddhist to deny Buddha-nature. It also says that self (conceptual/ego) is an illusion—that we all create (a fabrication) to identify our ineffable true nature. 

Modern neurology confirms this intuitive insight revealing that the ego is a sort of hologram which serves the purpose of separating ourselves from others, and this separation is, like the ego concept, which creates it, an illusion. The Sūtra further says that the Tathagata (the Buddha—our true Self-nature) teaches with expedient means by first teaching non-self as a preliminary to teaching the true Self. The logic of that progression is nothing short of brilliant. Until such time as we wrestle with and defeat ego/self, we are not going to come to terms with our essential Self-nature. We will hold on until the death with “Me-ism.”

Science is a marvelous tool but is limited to measurability. Yet no one has ever been able to measure the true mind (much less even find it), which according to numerous Buddhist texts, is the Buddha. We have come a long way over the centuries and can measure things today, not even imagined previously. Does that mean that reality comes and goes according to the capacity of tools? NO! Truth stands alone and is not conditioned by progress, however marvelous.

To read the details of Nagarjuna’s perspective on how essence and non-essence depend upon each other, go to—On Examination of Essence; The Fundamental Wisdom of the Middle Way: Nagarjuna’s Mūlamadhyamakakārikā (Treatise of the Middle Way).

After all, is said and done, the bottom line is to not be so heavenly minded that we are of no earthly good. Our egos/virtual reality and our True Self/true reality come as a package deal. It is impossible to separate the two (which are One). The important thing is to be continuously aware of the eternally, indwelling spiritual Self of love, and accept with gratitude that our virtual selves originate and function there as a result. 

“If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, it is then more elastic, more starry, more immortal—that is your success.” Henry David Thoreau

Our imaginary and real self—understanding both

The tides of transformation.

Before getting too far into my topic, first, let me speak about how we all perceive the physical world within which we live, and our self-understanding that grows from that complex of perceptual dimensions. And I emphasize the word “complex” since, unless we are lacking one or more perceptual capacities—such as Helen Keller, who was lacking both the capacity to see and the capacity to hear, the standard interrelated complex—the Gestalt, depends upon five sensory capabilities, e.g., sight, sound, smelling, feeling, tasting and thinking. And yes, thinking, because it is an internal aspect that emerges from the co-mingling of the other four. 

We perceive, for example, a perfectly ripe peach through sight, smell, feeling, and tasting, and we form an image in our mind of that co-mingled combination and label the Gestalt with a chosen word “peach,” at least in English. In French, it would be “pêche,” or in German “Pfirsich.” The human experience of a sensorily perceived “peach” is universally the same regardless of the word used to describe it. Changing the term does not change the experience. Shakespeare used this premise when he had Juliet utter to her lover Romeo: “Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet;…” Romeo held the idea that, because their names were different, they could not be united.
 

An analogy of how a computer works is a helpful metaphor in understanding. A computer has three, interrelated functions: Input (the data entered to be processed), data processing, and output (something it reports or does). In line with this construction is the idiomatic term “GIGO”—Garbage in, garbage out. In other words, a computer will be limited by what goes in to be processed. And the output will never be any better than the input, thus “GIGO.” That is easy to comprehend in the case of a machine. 

But how about our self-understanding? The same involvements apply. If the mental construction of ourselves (fabricated from our perceived experiences) is garbage, then the thoughts about ourselves will likewise be garbage, and nobody wishes to think of themselves as garbage. All of us have a deeply held desire to be better than garbage—so we construct an imaginary self-image; an ego if you will, which in ancient languages across the entire world meant, and still means, “I.” And when anyone imagines themselves, they further imagine they are separate and apart from other “I’s.” We naturally perceive differences, only. Why? Because everything that can be perceived is different and seemingly incomplete. Nobody can perceive what is non-different (e.g., united and complete).
 

And for the most part, that imaginary construction of our selves is far less than who we are truly. But we are limited (just as a computer is) to our input. It is utterly accurate to say that what is imagined (in any way; self or otherwise) falls short of the truth of ourselves, which can never be perceived, in an ordinary way.
The difference between the imagined and the real is completely opposite in nature, and neither what is imagined nor real can possibly exist separate and apart from the other. 

Just as “up” is opposite from “down,” so too is the imagined opposite from the real. The imagined is constructed, by, and dependent upon, the capacities and limitations of our conditional/ perceptual tools. The real, being opposite in nature, is thus unconditional and can’t be perceived at all. And this is so because the conditional and the unconditional arise (and cease) together; they are in a sense, inseparable “Siamese-twins.” And the problem, universally, is hardly anyone has been blessed by experiencing the unconditional, always-perfect aspect of who they are, genuinely. And out of that, mismatch grows every evil known to mankind.
 

The world population does not have an identity crisis. Instead, we are having a non-identity crisis. And by that, I mean, hardly anyone has ever been blessed with experiencing the other, real side of themselves—the non-imagined, true aspect of our beingness. 

That is the crisis that all of us are presently having, and it is killing us, both figuratively and literally. The perceptual world all around us is changing at light-speed, and we are collectively going through a shedding process. 

What used to work for us, does no longer. We are being forced, by circumstances beyond our individual control, to adapt and change. We are lost and in a state of universal crisis. This is nothing new. It has been advancing upon us for a long time and is now reaching a crescendo. If we are to survive this, we must all learn how to “flatten the imaginary curve,” or we will over-tax the system, and it will crush us, suddenly and destructively.
 

Thus far, I have written a number of books on this tsunamic crisis which I will gladly send to you in PDF format, for no charge. The selections are The Other Side of Midnight—The Fundamental Principle of Polarity, The Non-Identity Crisis—The crisis that endangers our world, Impostor: Living in a world of Alternate-Facts, and More Over—Finding Your Worth Beneath Excess. All you need do is send me an email, with “Request for book” in the subject line and requesting a copy of your choice in the body, and in short order, I will respond with a PDF file copy. My email address is john.joh40@gmail.com.

Who are we? A view from linguistics.

Who Dat?

Our sense of who and what we are determines how we relate to the world. In a prior post, I stuck a little toe into the great sea of language to illustrate a point of significance regarding the matter of identity. Today I want to further the discussion by beginning with Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (26 November 1857—22 February 1913). He is known as the founding father of semiotics—the study of signs and symbols as elements of communication behavior. 

His concept of the related chain of sign/signifier/signified/referent forms the core of this field of study. In brief, Saussure noted that something signified (an objective thing) is represented with a sign (a coded language form) by a signifier (a person) in terms of references to the thing. For example, the color black (a thing) must have a reference or contrast to something different from black (perhaps the color white) to be signified or detected. Once signified in a differentiated way from the referent, the signifier can then create a sign (the word “black”) to represent what has been signified.

If there is nothing signified, the entire language chain collapses since a sign can’t be established. We can’t create a language form other than to sign what is missing. For example, if there is nothing to be signified the best we can do is to create a sign called no-thing or nothing, to signify the lack of a thing. Since nothing is signified, the validity of a signifier is brought into question. Then we would have a no-signifier. In essence, the principle of signifier and signified must come and go together in matching cases. Nothing signified, no signifier. Something signified, signifier. That awareness is the beginning of language and communications and broadly acknowledged throughout the realm of linguistics.

This chain is quite similar to the Zen chain of causation in the following way: thing, thought, thinker; No-thing, no thought, no thinker. To remove any one of these, causes the chain to collapse. For example, a thinker only has meaning in reference to what a thinker does: thinks. If there is no thinking then the meaning of thinker is meaningless. Remove a thing and there is nothing (no-thing) and thus no thought. The central Zen question concerns the identity of “thinker.” Is a thinker who we imagine our self to be? The ordinary presumption is yes: we are a thinker who thinks thoughts. Rene Descarte established this seeming fact with his now famous, “I think therefore I am.” But this is an impossibility since when we stop thinking we don’t disappear even though the thinker does, thus the real us and a coming-and-going thinker must be two different entities.

What Saussure brought to the realm of language formation, Zen brings to the realm of identity formation. And the conclusion of Zen is that we—the true you and me are independent of a vacillating signifier/sign we call ego. Our true identity is solid and doesn’t move, because while things change, the referent is no change since we are not an objective thing. Instead, we are a subjective non-thing. And how is this awareness established? Through the Zen practice of not thinking which reveals the true, never-leaving you and me. 

The image of us (an objective sign) is meaningless without something signified (an objective thought), thus there is no signifier, which is a central premise of Zen: no-self (at least in an objective sign form). Our true non-sign self arises when there is no thought. We are the one signifying the lack of thought as well as the presence of thought. We see either the presence or the absence of thought and it takes both signified thought in reference to no thought for either to have meaning and this is true of all things, which must have a referent of difference to be signified. In physics, that principle is called relativity, and in Buddhism, it’s called dependent origination.

In the end, the self/no self-referent reveals the interconnected fabric of us. The sign (objective self-image/ego) can be seen to move and gyrate and the real us (no-self) never moves, and this, in turn, reveals a fabricated and discriminate mind (thoughts and emotions) and a real not-to-be-found indiscriminate true mind. The first is based on changing objective conditions/things (and is thus not substantial) and the second is based on the lack of objective things, which is unconditional and therefore substantial. 

Consequently, we are both real unconditionally and not real (based on objective conditions) at the same time. One part is born, grows big (unfortunately too big some times), decays and dies. The other part (the real us) is never born, doesn’t decay and lives forever. Unfortunately, the common-coin self-understanding is just the objective sign/symbol, which we label ego and unless we go to extraordinary means we rarely discover the real person that we are.

Fool that I am.

The fools prison

There’s a really curious matter regarding our self-understanding. For the most part, our unenlightened way of thinking about our self is governed by a mythical illusion, which we take to be wise and compassionate. 

We imagine this being covered in lots of different clothing and we call that person our ego. The term ego in Latin means “I,” cognate with the Greek “Εγώ (Ego)” meaning “I,” often used in English to mean the self, identity, or other related concepts.

When we express this in descriptive words we say things like, “I am an American, a Black man, a Christian, a Democrat, or any other handle.” We identify with such definitions, as we would clothing. So long as we conform to that way of defining our selves we are trapped within a prison of unflinching conformity without even realizing it. We thus live in delusion and always consider ourselves to be wise and compassionate. But are we really? Or are we deluding ourselves?

There is a test that nearly always works to reveal the truth. Can you give an unconditional gift, expecting nothing in return? With no expectation of reciprocal action? Or perhaps a trade is taking place: “I’ll give you this IF you give me something in return. And if you won’t return my favor, then I’ll stop giving you mine.” This latter is being launched by our ego because an ego is only interested in self-serving conditions. Our ego says to us, “What’s in this for me?” An ego lives within the delusion of separation, alienation and greed since that is the nature of an egos house. In that house we are fools believing that we’re not. A fool never knows they are a fool. And a Buddha never knows he/she is a Buddha. No one ever truly knows who he or she is that way. The measure of that arises by actions rather than words.

Nobody is an idea or a concept. Instead, we can learn what The Buddha said about this in The Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra. He said we are an indefinable, and undetectable entity known as the Tathāgatagarbha (loosly translated as the genesis or womb of the Buddha which lives within us all); Reality personified that can’t be found. He said that we don’t have real, separate identities. Instead he said we know ourselves by what we produce. Jesus said the same thing, “By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?” An ego is a thornbush. Our real personhood shares unconditional wine.

We can talk a good game all day long but none of it means a thing. Show me your measure with your life and never mind the words. St. Francis of Assisi said it this way, “Preach the gospel. And if necessary, use words.”

Traveling theatre

The masks we wear.

When I was much younger there was no television, only radio and it was referred to as a “theatre of the mind.” Unlike television, where we see visual performances on screens across the room, we saw performances in the imaginary theatre of the mind. 

In some ways, the imagination was more vivid and pictorial than watching images on a TV screen. Ours was an internal screen (actually our screen was the primary visual cortex located at the back of our brain). What none of us realized then with radio, or now with television, was that the ultimate screen remained, located in our brains rather than across the room.

We all look out upon our moving, conditional, changing world and see what we all take to be real. In fact what we are seeing remain images being projected upon that internal screen—our primary visual cortex. Images are all just shadows of what’s real. And out of that projection, we form an idea of who we are; one self-image built upon other images and none of it real. 

Nevertheless, we take it (our egos/self-images) as real and become persuaded, guarded and protective of that fabricated image, feeling insulted and inflamed when the role requires a different sort of performance. Some are fabricated out of harsh experiences and formed into negative self-images (hateful and hated) while others fabricate theirs out of more genteel material and fabricate loving self-images, with every step in between. 

Regardless of harshness, genteel, or anywhere in between, all of the end results are unreal simply because the material is unreal. The base material determines the end result. As the saying goes, “You can’t make filet mignon out of hamburger.” The fundamental point here is that we all take our ideas of whom and what we are far too seriously, never realizing how conditionally unreal we are actually. 

How much better, for everyone if we all recognized this fact and lightened our emotional/mental load and became what we truly are—performers, acting out changing roles. And as performers, we adapt to changing circumstances with changing roles and play the part as circumstances dictate.

And a part of this traveling theatre is the recognition that we are also real observers. So we play the roles, with a chuckle in our hearts, knowing full well that we can perform as the role dictates and at the end of the day leave the roles behind and go home to ourselves. It is important to us all to see conditional life as just a show. We are the players; all different. Conditional life is the stage, and the real us—all the same, are the observers: as different and distinct as snowflakes yet fundamentally just indiscriminate snow. Distinctive snowflakes melt into indistinct snow and that becomes the water of unity.

Is Buddhist compassion the same as Christian love?

The high bar of excellence.

The answer is, “it depends.” Unfortunately we rarely thoroughly examine colloquialisms, and pretentiousness has become rampant. Duplicity and deceit are so socially acceptable now they are nearly synonymous with contemporary life. 

The terms “compassion” and “love” have become so misused they are now cliches, lacking in true understanding. In some Asian cultures the issue of “face” is of such significance that being two-faced is integral to the culture, causing societal members to be continuously on guard for the potential for saving or losing face. To them, it’s a matter of their reputation, dignity, honor, prestige, and integrity. 

But this preoccupation is not limited to Asian cultures. It is prevalent throughout the world, wherever duplicity is found. The concern stands in conflict with spiritual principles, particularly in matters where surface and social expectations (the face presented to the world) diverge from internal convictions (the internal face). The Buddha said, “The greatest action is not conforming with the world’s ways, the greatest wisdom is seeing through appearances and the greatest effort is not concerned with results.” 

These principles reflect an attitude that transcends social expectations and platitudes concerned with duplicity. To live in duplicity reflects neither genuine Christian love (agape) nor genuine Buddhist compassion, both of which are near mirror reflections of one another. “Compassion is often thought of as akin to pity, but whereas pity may be condescending, compassion springs from a sense of the equality, unity, and interconnectedness of life. Genuine compassion is about empowering others, helping them unlock strength and courage from within their lives in order to overcome their problems.” 

And this human quality arises through true awakening to our inherent nature that fills us with the experience of unity and becomes so powerful as to render duplicity impossible. The highest love agápē (ἀγάπη) is found only in the New Testament and is translated as “unconditional love.” Love that is unconditional is not discriminatory or influenced by changing phenomenal conditions, but is instead steady throughout all conditions. 

The best expression of agápē love is found in 1 Corinthians 13:4-12, which says, “Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails, but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away with. For we know in part and we prophesy in part; but when the perfect comes (genuine awakening), the partial will be done away. When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things. For now, we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known. But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

These genuine Buddhist and Christian expressions, however, while being the gold standards, are not universally embraced. Just because we know what is the standard, does not guarantee we comply. There are numerous examples in today’s world where hypocrisy, denial, and egotism flourish, most particularly within the sphere of politics. It’s a rare individual who, while lost within the grip of ego delusion, can rise above the influences and temptations of greed, anger, avarice, and possessiveness and “do the right thing.” 

Sadly our interpersonal, social, and political systems have become rife with concern for preserving “face,” currying special favors that align us with power and ignores the high bars of true compassion and love. Probably the best depiction of hypocrisy I have seen was displayed in the television series “The West Wing,” when the president (Martin Sheen) puts a faux-Christian in her place. The example stands in stark contrast to the behavior of true compassion and agápē love characteristic of a bodhisattva, who lives by a vow.

Hindsight is 20/20.

Looking in the rear-view mirror appears to be advantageous to looking ahead. The past tells you from where you’ve come, but it doesn’t necessarily tell you where you’re going. It may, however, enable you to see a vector pointing forward. But what if that backward view says, you’re on the wrong road and heading for an abyss? Robert Frost best conveyed this dilemma in his poem The Road Not Taken.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both,
And be one traveler, long I stood,
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay,
In leaves, no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

Frost’s poetic journey into the unknown could be seen as foolhardy unless that vector was fraught with doubts about your life and where it suggested you were going next. That was certainly true in my case. As I looked back over 40 years, I could see abundant evidence that I was on the wrong path and had come to the inescapable conclusion that something was seriously wrong. But what? At that critical juncture—the dividing of ways forward, I felt without value and was in a state of existential crisis. When every indicator says to continue with fear and tribulation, leaping into the unknown isn’t as foolhardy as it might otherwise seem.

Without a clue, I was a ripe candidate for what I later learned was called the Southern School of Chan (sudden enlightenment)—The way began by Shenhui, a disciple of Zen Master Huineng back in China during the 7th century CE and developed into what is now Rinzai Zen. As I look back, taking the right fork in the road, seems providential, and maybe even coincidental. At that time, I didn’t even know about the roots of Rinzai or how it was different from Soto. It has taken me almost that long to become educated about that leap. All I knew then was what lay behind me was self-destructive, and unless I found a better path forward, my goose was cooked.

As it turned out, my teacher was the blend of both Soto and Rinzai, and his dharma name was Eido (the combination of Eisai/Yōsai Zenji and Dōgen Zenji)—The two Zen masters responsible for fostering Soto and Rinzai Zen in Japan. I can say, without any hesitation, that under his guidance, my life was transformed, and I came to experience my complete worth. 

It took me the first 40 to reach the point of sensing utter worthlessness, an instance to realize transformation, and the next 40 to mature. If there was ever proof of dependent arising, I would be it. 

In the 8th century CE, an Indian Buddhist philosopher by the name of Śhāntideva said that to be able to deny something, we first have to know what it is we’re denying. The logic of that statement is peerless. He went on to say, 

“Without contacting the entity that is imputed, you will not apprehend the absence of the entity.” The value of first knowing vacillating despair made it possible to see the firmness of fulfillment.

During the years following our meeting, Eido Roshi fell into disrepute for sexual misconduct. I can’t condone what he did in that respect, but I will be forever grateful for what he did for me. The founder of the Rinzai Zen (Lin Chi) used the idiom “True Man of no rank” because, within our ineffable, transcendent sphere, there is no conditional right nor wrong. Eido lived, as he taught—on two levels at the same time. The level that erred is the same level we all endure. That level is flawed, but Eido’s “True Man of no rank” was without blemish. And this is true for us all.

It is not up to me or anyone to judge and condemn his actions. The Buddha said, “Do not be the judge of people; do not make assumptions about others. A person is destroyed by holding judgments about others.”  Sage advise we should all take to heart.

Eido Roshi died February 18, 2018, at Shōgen-ji, Minokamo, in Gifu Prefecture, Japan, and will be buried at Dai Bosatsu Zendo (where we met so many years ago, and the place of my transformation) on Tuesday, April 24, 2081. Gassho Eido!

Already, not yet

The culmination of every spiritual journey is the realization of completion and unity. Many religions claim we are incomplete and must find the road to a far distant heavenly home. 

Johnny Cash made famous the song In the by and by there’ll be pie in the sky, meaning there will be a reward waiting for us in heaven if we do God’s will here on earth. Because we imagine incompletion we seek completion. Because we misunderstand our source and ourselves, we desire fulfillment even though we are from beginning to the end already full. Our cup runs over with goodness and we remain thirsty for what is already ours.

Acceptance of the already and not yet is a seeming paradox. How can both be true at the same time? The answer as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin pointed out, is, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” Our true nature is spiritual, complete and there is nowhere to go. Our mortal nature is phenomenal, in a process, and we search for the already. We are like the man who looks through lenses, searching for the eyeglasses that sit upon his nose.

It was Zen Master Huang Po who expressed the doctrine of One Mind: “All the Buddhas and all sentient beings are nothing but the One Mind, beside which nothing exists. This Mind, which is without beginning: is unborn and indestructible. It is not green nor yellow and has neither form nor appearance. It does not belong to the categories of things which exist or do not exist, nor can it be thought of in terms of new or old. It is neither long nor short, big nor small, for it  transcends all limits, measures, names, traces, and comparisons.”

Thus the idea of mind over matter is absurd. The mind is the matter in the exact same way that Emptiness is form (The Heart of Perfect Wisdom Sūtra). Every atom of our material body is nothing other than the perfect integration of the One Mind and looking elsewhere for what is already ours is a fools journey.

The parable of the Prodigal Son is a story that reveals this truth.  The message of the Prodigal is the same as contained in the Song of Zazen written by one of the Zen giants (17th-century Hakuin Ekaku). Here are his words: 

“How near the truth, yet how far we seek. Like one in water crying, ‘I thirst!’ Like the son of a rich man wandering poor on this earth we endlessly circle the six worlds. The cause of our sorrow is ego delusion.”  

What can be seen blinds us and keeps us ignorant of what is unseen. So, on the one hand, we are deceived by the conditional, discriminate nature of what we can perceive and on the other hand, our true nature is unconditionally indiscriminate, ineffable but full. And out of our sense of incompletion, we are consumed by desire, not realizing that we already possess what we seek.

The noble winning poet Rabindranath Tagore captured the journey beautifully when he wrote, “The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.” 

So on this spring day, reflect on the labor of your life. Are you laboring for becoming complete? Or are you laboring to accept your never-ending completion? It makes a difference.

Where’s your mind?

Where is it?

A few days ago, I started this series of posts with a challenge: to find your mind, and since then, I have led you through a new way of seeing. Tomorrow I’ll conclude this series by sharing the Buddhist perspective of what the mind produces. 

But today, we’ll consider a unique way of understanding your mind. But when this unique way is understood, it explains why we are so oriented toward hostility, violence, and alienation. The ordinary view is that the mind is a private and individual matter somehow associated with what resides between our ears. 

My thoughts are unique to me, and your views are unique to you. From that perspective, difference is the norm. Consequently, opposition is typical, expected, and one ideology stands counter to another. One of us must be right, and that means the “other” must be wrong. But which one is correct? Both of us believe we are right, and neither of us thinks we are wrong, and this model of mind-in-the-head opposition is the commonly accepted view.

The Buddhist view is laid out in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra by the telling of a story, which concerns Ananda (first cousin of The Buddha). Ananda fell under a spell of a prostitute and subsequently is taught by his cousin, The Buddha, about why he fell. The teaching unfolds with The Buddha challenging Ananda to locate his mind. First, Ananda says, like the vast majority of the human race, that his mind is in his head. The Buddha shoots that notion down with an argument that can’t be overturned. Ananda then tries one answer after another, and each time, The Buddha shoots these down as well. In the end, Ananda never answers correctly, and the teaching of the Sutra is that the mind can neither be located nor found since everything perceptible is the not-to-be-found-or-divided mind.

In conjunction with the principle that no individual, uniquely special self exists, this view means that we all live within the commonly shared space of the real mind. This is no different from a quote I shared in a previous post (The road to an imaginary nowhere) spoken by Jesus. In the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas, Jesus is quoted as having said: 

“If those who lead you say unto you: behold, the Kingdom is in heaven, then the birds of the heaven will be before you. If they say unto you: it is in the sea, then the fish will be before you. But the Kingdom is within you, and it is outside of you. When you know yourselves, then shall you be known, and you shall know that you are the sons of the living Father. But if you do not know yourselves, then you are in poverty, and you are poverty.” 

It might be said that we are all virtual beings living in a virtual world, and consequently, it is not possible to indeed be in opposition to one another since we are all one. The opposition we to which cling as right is based on a false perception that we are separated and apart. What we see is a reflection of our mirror mind. It looks real, but we fail to realize that we are in the mirror—all reflections instead of reflected reality. We are like fish swimming through the sea of mind without knowing that there is such a thing as water. We are already in the kingdom. There is nowhere to go except for the sea.

Mirror, mirror on the wall who’s the fairest one of all?

In a mirror, everything is reversed and all that can be seen is a reflection of something. What is right out here is left in there. Reality and an image are reversed and all that can be seen is a reflection of something. We can’t reach into a mirror and pull out anything real, but what we see looks very real. 

What seems incomprehensible is that we have a mirror in us and like any other mirror, everything is a reflection of something real but only discernible as an image.

In our mind’s eye, we see an image of ourselves, and we call that image a “self-image.” It’s a product of our unseen mind. But since this image occurs in our mirror it is reversed and we take it to be real. Our ego is who we imagine our self to be and in our estimation, we are the fairest one of all. But in a mirror what we see as the fairest is reversed. In truth, our ego is our worst enemy. 

Our ego is greedy, vain, vengeful, vindictive, vulnerable, defensive and willing to do anything, however awful to fend off perceived threats. And all the while the real us lies hidden beneath these illusions waiting to be unveiled. 

Our mind is like an iceberg: The visible and tiny tip (ego mind) and what lies at the vast depths of us all is our true, and unseen mind without limits. The real us lies on the other side of that inner mirror and the qualities of the ego are reversed. Whereas our imaginary self is greedy, vain, ignorant, vengeful and possessive, the real us is complete, humble, kind, wise and compassionate, but the real us has no identifying characteristics.

Every means of perception functions internally. There is no such thing as external perception. Perception by every means occurs in our brain and is a reflection, but not the real thing being perceived. In truth, the entire universe exists only as images reflected in our brains. There is no perception of a self, no perception of a being, no perception of a soul and no perception of a person because a perception is only an image, a reflected projection that occurs in our brain. 

We are real and not real at the same time. The images are unreal. Our reality is unseen. The images we see and take to be real are actually just perceptions. The reality upon which these images are based can never be directly accessed, yet we are here. Hermann Hesse, the author of Siddhartha, rightfully stated: 

“There’s no reality except the one contained within us. That’s why so many people live an unreal life. They take images outside them for reality and never allow the world within them to assert itself.” 

We live within the sea of unreality, which we understand as reality and never question this process.

An imagined you.

Do you have any idea who you are? Begin with this simple understanding: An idea is a mental image, otherwise known as a thought. When you imagine yourself you form an image. It may be a composite image constructed with many parts such as your standing vis-à-vis others, the values you hold dear, or just about any other contribution. But in the end, you have an idea about yourself, which you assume constitutes your being.

This process forces the matter of selfhood. Are you the result of this process—a composite image (a self-image)? Or are you the one who conjures up this image? If the former then you are in constant motion with continuously changing vagaries. In other words there is no permanent you, instead, you remain vulnerable and never at ease (e.g. dis-ease). On the other hand, consider the possibility that the real you is not, and has never been any sort of image but is rather the never-changing and constantly present, ineffable imaginer: The one doing the imaging that can never, ever be imagined.

In today’s world, we have a different name for a self-image. It goes by the name “ego” which if researched means “I” as when we say things like “I am a special being” (of some sort). And this ego understands itself as being uniquely different, special and in conflict with every other ego. It’s a world of me against you and if I am to win, you must lose.

Now this other entity, the imaginer, has no defining characteristics. If it did then it would be constrained to some characteristics but not others. One characteristic only has meaning when understood against some other characteristic such as up vs. non-up (otherwise known as down). Can anything be both at the same time? Our ordinary answer to that questions is no due to meaning and understanding, which is to say that everything can only be understood and have meaning when compared to something else: thus discrimination and discernment.

But how about this: My imagination is the same as your imagination and neither of these can be understood, just recognized as the wellspring of every thought and image. The imagination has one purpose only: to imagine. And the imagination has no limits or forms of difference. In truth, the imaginer is exactly the same from one person to another. We are all just a commonly shared mind without limit or constraining dimension.

Think about that! Better yet, don’t think about that. Just recognize this: You and I are the same non-thing, without limit.

Who am I? Who are you?

Have you ever wondered what it must be like for a person living with Alzheimer’s? Such a person is lost in a never-ending dream with no idea who they are. They look in a mirror and see a stranger looking back at them. Apparently, some have the ability for momentary memory recall and then return to the enduring dream.

The Buddha said this is the way our life is. We are asleep, lost in an enduring dream and the challenge is to wake up and discover who we are truly. For most all of my life, going all the way back into my youth I was haunted by a question, which refused to go away: “Who am I?” I felt like I was trapped in a body and couldn’t touch the nature of my real self.

The question became a thorn of continuous pricking and wouldn’t leave me alone. Over and over it kept repeating until I thought I would go mad. And then one day it stopped all by itself and I knew the answer for myself, and in that instant, I knew the answer for everyone. We are buddhas. We’ve always been buddhas and will never stop being buddhas. And when I say that I don’t mean Gautama Buddha. I mean what the title “buddha” means: awake.

At that moment I woke up and remembered who I was. The fog went away and the question stopped haunting me. At that moment “I” disappeared and my real self (which was no self at all: just pure awareness appeared), but it was very confusing because the true me had no defining characteristics. At that moment I was nothing yet everything because a buddha is all there is. I am buddha. You are buddha. Every sentient being is buddha, and the buddha is mind.

In Zen literature, the question is constantly asked: “Why did Bodhidharma come to China?” And of course, the answer, which he gave, is to show the world the answer to this question that nagged me. We are buddha and the buddha is our awakened mind. There is no buddha except mind; no mind but buddha. We are all united as one indivisible reality, which is mind. When we sleep we are trapped in the dream of samsara. When we wake up we are free and find ourselves in Nirvana. We are different yet the same: sleeping and awake, always and forever.