Nirvāna

What does life look like when you awaken? It looks exactly the same, but in another way, everything has changed, only it hasn’t. I suppose that sounds abstruse, but actually, it isn’t. Our natural mind is pure and unconditional. It is always with us yet beyond detection. It is the source of everything but has no nature at all. It is like a mirror that reflects whatever passes before it but in itself contains nothing.

Today during our meditation group, a helicopter flew overhead. As it approached, the sound gradually came in contact with our ears; the sound grew stronger and then faded as it moved on. Without thinking about where the helicopter came from and where it went, the sound was just sound and left no tracks. The conditions changed, but our mind didn’t—it remained silent, aware, pure as a mirror, and reflecting the sound.

Upon awakening, we become aware of awareness itself: The mirror. Until that point, we are consumed with making something out of the sounds and other forms of perception and thus never wake up to our unconditional mind. Nirvāna is the state of being free from suffering and is understood as “blowing out”—referring in the Buddhist context, to the blowing away the smoke of greed, hatred, and delusion. It is a state of soteriological release.

“Soteriological release” means (in essence) salvation, but not in the ordinary way of understanding. In The Diamond Sutra (verse 25), The Buddha said:

“There are in fact no sentient beings for the Tathagata to liberate. If there were sentient beings liberated by the Tathagata, it would mean that the Tathagata holds the notions of a self, a person, a sentient being, or a life span. Subhuti, when the Tathagata says ‘I’, there is actually no ‘I’. Yet ordinary beings think there is a real ‘I’. Subhuti, the Tathagata says that ordinary beings are in fact not ordinary beings. Therefore they are called ordinary beings.”

When first read, I didn’t understand, but upon further reflection, I did see the wisdom. The Buddha (e.g., Tathagata) was telling us that we ordinary humans hold onto the idea there is such a thing as a “self.”—separate, distinct and unique from all others, and to retain this notion is what leads us away from Nirvāna and into the land of never-ending suffering. This idea of personality is what we must lose to be free—be saved (liberated), not being saved by God for inherent sin.

Our conditional mind and unconditional mind are often portrayed as the difference between smoke and fire. We can see the smoke of thoughts, which emanate from the fire of mind. When thoughts are blown out, the smoke goes away and we lose that mind that deceives us, thus producing the idea of a conditional, distinct personality and find our true mind where we are One with all. 

That no-mind state is what is known as Nirvāna: our natural mind, which has always been present. The mirror never comes or goes. Without it perception would be impossible. The mind moves and it doesn’t and everything is just a reflection of the way things are.

The cost of ignorance.

Some say we come into this world as a blank slate, upon which is

A high cost to pay.

 written the moment-by-moment experiences of mortal life. Nature vs. nature is the handle applied to this view. Accordingly, “nature” is the blank slate (with potential unrealized), and “nurture” is what is written, which leads to realizing (or not) that potential.

In Western philosophy, the concept of tabula rasa can be traced back to the works of Aristotle in his treatise De Anima (Περί Ψυχῆς, “On the Soul”). Consequently, given the Western roots, the philosophy continues to this day as an underpinning of Western psychology. This perspective presumes mortal life is a “one-and-done” proposition. One-shot (either for good or not) determines our destiny and where our soul goes following mortal death. 

On the other side of the world, however, an alternate perspective arose—karmic seeds—the essence of karma. When karma is dormant, it sleeps in this seed form. When it is latent, it exists as samskaras, embedded beliefs deep in the mind's unconscious zone, and as liminal fantasies encountered in dreams, hypnotic states, and meditation. When it is active, it is present in all seven levels, and we are aware of the force of craving or desire.

Whereas the Western view is a “one-and-done” proposition, the Eastern view is one of transmigration and reincarnation. In this sense, “life” isn’t purely mortal (which passes away—dust to dust) but is rather the “dust” plus immortality, with the soul being the vehicle within which the karmic seeds travel that predetermines unconscious vectors. Rather than “one and done,” this perspective is a “do-over” until we get it right. Thus, perfection is not an impossible, abstract, flawless mortal condition but is instead the end of attainment, stretching over eons.

These two perspectives produce very different senses of possibility. On the one hand, we believe that we are all flawed beings (and thus excessively tolerant of egregious behaviors) in need of divine salvation, or we’re in for a quick trip to a scorching place. The other perspective is one of infinite grace—recognizing that true life evolves as a learning experience that never ends until Nirvana is realized. The understanding of Nirvana is greatly distorted in the West. In simple to grasp terms, the word means the extinguishment of the three poisons—greed, anger, and ignorance associated with experiencing oneself as an ego. It is not some mythical place but rather a state of mind, achievable by realizing a person’s genuine nature hidden deep within the unconscious mind. 

By the time I arrived at the seminary and learned about tabula rasa, I had experienced a mind-blowing transformation that was not intellectual but rather intuitive. Then I had the advantage of a comparative frame of reference, and upon further exploration, I came to understand matters of my own mind I would never have come to given my own Western roots.

In seminary, I learned how to read the New Testament in the language originally used, that of Koine Greek: A Greek form no longer used but was used when the Greek Philosophers walked the earth. Obviously, Aristotle knew and used Koine Greek but must not have known the significance of the thorny crux of original sin—that everyone is flawed, in need of divine salvation, going back to the mythical sin of Adam and Eve. His lack of awareness concerning this dogma, of course, makes sense, but only when explored. Aristotle was born in 385 BCE and died 62 years later in 323 BCE. On the other hand, The Christian Bible canons (containing both the Old and New Testaments, wherein the creation myth existed) weren’t completed until the 5th century CE. Consequently, he knew nothing of the original sin's ideology, but he did understand the nature of a completed journey.

And how would I know that? Because of one single word (written in Koine Greek) that had to be one of transmigration instead of “one-and-done.” And the word in question is “perfection,” which, when written in Koine Greek, is teleos meaning “the end result.” Instead of using the word as a foundational principle of salvation, Aristotle saw perfection in a frame of nature, saying: “Nature does nothing in vain.” The philosophy itself suggests that acts are done with a foregone purpose in mind—people do things knowing the result they wish to achieve, and this in turn strongly suggest coming into this world, not as a blank slate but rather with seeds growing to a pre-determined (e.g., karmic seeds) conclusion.

The dogma of genetic flaw—going back to the creation story myth—has created countless tragedies over the vast expanse of time. The hope of ever achieving perfection (as a state of being without flaw in a “one-and-done” lifetime has caused untold billions to reach their end in a state of profound fear), all due to ignorance, the very thing The Buddha pointed out that was the heart of suffering:

“What is that smothers the world? What makes the world so hard to see? What would you say pollutes the world and threatens it the most?’ ‘It is ignorance that smothers,’ the Buddha replied, ‘and it heedlessness and greed, making the world invisible. The hunger of desire pollutes the world, and the great source of fear is the pain of suffering.”

Deluded Mind

In the commentary on The Diamond Sutra, Huineng said, “A bodhisattva doesn’t practice charity for his own happiness but to break through miserliness within and to benefit other beings without. But the Tathagata says that the perceptions of self and other are ultimately subject to destruction and not truly real. Hence, all beings are fictions. If one can get free of the deluded mind, there are no beings to save.”

I’ve read and puzzled over that statement for a long time, and then I decided to just pay attention to that last part, “If one can get free of the deluded mind, there are no beings to save.” The question is, what’s the difference between a mind that is deluded and one that isn’t? Apparently, a deluded mind imagines something that doesn’t exist, like seeing heat waves on the highway and concluding rippling water. In this case, Huineng says that we likewise believe entities called self and others, which we mistake as being real. In other words, what we take to be real is actually fictitious.

The teaching of “no-self” is deeply embedded in Buddhism. It’s a fundamental tenet. In our deluded state of mind, we imagine a separate and independent being that is the same thing as a body. It looks real, and it seems separate from every other body. How can it not be real and mutually discrete? Yet Huineng says this perception is not real. It only seems that way, and this conclusion is apparently emanating from a deluded mind.

How can this be understood? To answer that puzzler, we have to take a step backward and consider how Huineng and The Buddha understood the difference between what’s real and what isn’t. The what isn’t part is that things exist independently. Instead, everything is arising dependently, based on something else. The extended thought is that everything is thus empty, meaning that a self is not an isolated matter. By itself, it is empty (non-existent). Only when joined with something else does it exist.

It is somewhat easier to grasp this distinction with a simple example. Up and down are obviously discriminately different, yet the two dimensions don’t exist independently. These two define each other. Neither up nor down could exist independently, yet both exist in relationship to each other. That is essentially the Middle Way: Not up. Not down. Neither not, not up. Neither not, not down. Both are true together. Neither are true apart. That relationship is known as dependent origination, and the implications of that principle are far-reaching. Of course, we embrace independence (which is foundational to our nation) and fail to see the connection.

How then does this understanding inform this matter of self and other? If we apply this criterion to a person, the question is, what is the connective tissue? If I’m not independent, what is the other side of me? Or of you? Obviously, we have a bodily form, which we are looking at, and that part certainly looks real and independent. Yet the Huineng said no. It is neither real nor independent. By itself, a body is no more real than up apart from down.

To answer this question, we need to switch over to another Sutra—The Heart of Perfect Wisdom Sutra, which says form=emptiness. We know what our own form is. It’s our body. But this sutra says that this bodily form is empty (e.g., not real; not independent); instead, it is mutually dependent on this thing called emptiness. Neither of these is real by itself, and both are real together. So how can we define and understand the empty part? The truth is you can’t identify or conceptually understand emptiness. It can only be experienced because emptiness is your primordial mind, which can’t define itself.

The father of Zen (Bodhidharma) said this, “To say that the real Dharmakāya of the Buddha resembles the Void is another way of saying that the Dharmakāya is the Void and that the Void is the Dharmakāya...they are one and the same thing...When all forms are abandoned, there is The Buddha...the void is not really void, but the realm of the real Dharma. This spiritually enlightening nature is without beginning...this great Nirvanic nature is Mind; Mind is The Buddha, and The Buddha is the Dharma.”

The other side of us all is this spiritually enlightened mind. It can’t be seen or understood by our thinking mind, but without that, we (the bodily part of us) couldn’t exist. Without that part, we would be nothing more than fiction. This mind is what produces, not only our bodies but everything else. This mind is spiritually integrated with everything.

The true you and me.

The Ancient Greek aphorism to “know thyself” is familiar even today. Most people throughout time and place believe they know themselves and can go to great length to describe their attributes, personality characteristics, along with strengths and weaknesses. Of course, as we age our comfort with these definitions changes and we seem to have an evolving self that morphs as the world changes around us. In that sense we seem lost to the vagaries of life, and are like sponges, soaking up the dimensions of our conditional world and that method is the standard way of “knowing ourselves.”

There is, however, another way of coming to self-understanding that was articulated by The Buddha in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra. The dialogue in this sūtra is between The Buddha and his cousin, Ananda. And one of the principal teachings in the sūtra concerns this alternative way of knowing. In the process of the ensuing conversation, The Buddha identifies two types of minds; one that leads to unending suffering and the other that leads to genuine self-understanding. Here is what is said:

“The Buddha then compounds his cousin’s confusion by stating that there are fundamentally two kinds of mind:

Ananda, what are the two fundamentals? 

1. The first is the mind that is the basis of death and rebirth and has continued for the entirety of time, which has no beginning. This mind is dependent upon perceived objects, and it is this that you and all beings make use of and that each of you considers to be your own nature.
2. The second fundamental is enlightenment, which has no beginning; it is the original and pure essence of nirvana. It is the original understanding, the real nature of consciousness. All conditioned phenomena arise from it, and yet it is among those phenomena that beings lose track of it. They have lost track of this fundamental understanding, though it is active in them all day long, and because they remain unaware of it, they make the mistake of entering the various destinies.”

Unfortunately, even in the present day, we misunderstand  “mind” as the first and this leads to all the suffering of the world. And the second is the one the vast majority of humanity has missed. The obvious conclusion to this observation is that the solution to our contemporary troubles must begin with a proper grasp of our true mind, because we are prone to understand ourselves and others in the same fashion as this first kind of mind understands anything: as mutually discreet, perceived objects, all different with no connective spiritual tissue, only. Beneath our bodily form lies our true spiritual nature which never dies and is connected to all.

Who the heck am I?

The sky of mind

If you’ve been reading my blog, more than likely you’ve come to realize that I’m an outlier. I don’t fit the ordinary categories, and that disturbs some people, but the truth is neither do you. 

What people believe overrides truth nearly every time. I haven’t always been so unorthodox, in fact, most of my life I was just like everyone else: screwed up but not aware there was any other way. So I want to tell you a little bit how I went from normal (and screwed up) to abnormal and at peace.

In 1964 I did a terrible thing: I went to Vietnam as a Marine and killed a lot of people. What I hadn’t bargained for was that it killed me—spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. For years following my two years perpetuating socially acceptable mayhem on my own human family, I suffered greatly and was eventually brought to my knees, so full of despair that on a morning 16 years later I made a decision to either commit suicide or get to the bottom of my unexplained dilemma. Obviously, I made the choice of getting to the bottom of my suffering and this took me into strange lands.

I then went to live in a Zen monastery and subsequently experienced a profound awakening, within both the framework of Zen and Christianity. The result of that dual experience of non-duality opened up a doorway into a realm I didn’t know existed and allowed me to live with peace. I then made a pledge to spend the rest of my mortal life passing on the lessons I had learned. So now I share my hybrid and unorthodox strangeness with whoever has ears to hear and a receptive eye.

I have now honored this commitment by teaching, leading meditation groups, writing (this blog), and thus far six books, the latest of which is Impostor—Living in a world of Alternate Facts, which is available free of charge by clicking here. This is a part of my pledge: To give back what I’ve learned. There are many things I don’t know about and I steer clear of speaking and writing about such things. But I know a lot about transforming your mind, leaving behind a life of sorrow and discovering the wellspring of joy that lives within all people. I write about that, only. If I can pass on that, it’s enough because that can change your life and leave this world a better place.

Is that all there is?

“Is that all there is? Is that all there is? If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing. Let’s break out the booze and have a ball if that’s all there is.”

These words might very well be the mantra for today. They were however, sung by American singer Peggy Lee and an award winner from her album in November 1969. When your life seems surrounded with corruption it is easy to become disillusioned. Peggy Lee’s song was written by the team of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller and based on the existential philosophy expressed at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th-century. 

More specifically the writers borrowed the idea from the 1896 Disillusionment written by Thomas Mann who was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1929. Mann was a big fan of Goethe, Nietzsche and Schopenhauer, all of whom, in one way or another saw life as meaningless and were considered either implicit or explicit nihilists.

Without plumbing the depths of consciousness it seems logical that life is indeed meaningless. The words of the song keep changing but the message appears to be the same. Even among mainline Buddhism that message was first resonating with what was known as “The Three marks of existence.” The Buddha was thought to have taught that all beings, conditioned by causes (saṅkhāra) are impermanent (anicca) and suffering (dukkhā) while he said not-self (anattā) characterized all dharmas meaning there is no “I” or “mine” in life.

If that was the end of the matter, Buddhism would more than likely, have lasted about twenty seconds. But fortunately that was not the end of the matter. It took some time for Mahāyana Buddhism to emerge, which told the rest of the story. In Chapter 3 (On Grief) of the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra the Buddha taught, about what he called “four perversions.” 

He said that the true Self signified the Buddha, the eternal signified the Dharmakaya (the Mind of truth), Bliss signified the lack of dukkhā and Nirvana/the Pure signified the Dharma. He went on to say that to cultivate impermanence, suffering, and non-Self has no real value/meaning. “Whoever has these four kinds of perversion, that person does not know the correct cultivation of dharmas. Having these perverse ideas, their (the lost) minds and vision are distorted.”

When life seems to be characterized by violence, political shark-man-ship, power through money, injustice, a growing wave of corruption, despair, apathy, and hopelessness, it’s easy to wonder, “Is this all there is?” And while we may not yet be able to find our true Selves (which is Sunyata), we don’t need to see life through the lens of a victim. A man who waits for enlightenment before being a balm to others is like waiting for the ocean to warm before taking a bath. 

While facing such adversity in the present moment, it may require strength, endurance, and keeping a level head. But of equal importance is the clear understanding that the only way to have better “nows” for tomorrows is by making those betters today. A single match can either ignite a blazing inferno of hatred or light a lamp of love that shines brightness into the darkness. Whatever we do in the never-ending “now” will make our world of tomorrow. 

We don’t need to be a Malālah Yūsafzay or an Edward Snowden to make a difference. A single act of kindness in whatever sphere we live turns adversity into joy. A single drop of rain waters 10,000 pines.

Morning Stars and Oak Trees

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Key to Fulfillment

What you’re about the read now is the result of having lived through extreme adversity, finding victory, and then looking back to find a rational explanation. 

What I write about here is that rational, rearview perspective. I never saw this view from the other side, which is to say while in the midst of anxiety. The vision presented here is a retrospective.

If you study Yoga or Buddhism you’ll learn a lot about a unique perspective about why people suffer and you can sum up the entirety of this perspective in one statement: “We suffer because we don’t have a proper grasp of what genuine reality is.” 

Usually the response to that summation is MEGO (My eyes glaze over). Everyone who has ever lived, or will ever live, begins with the unchallenged assumption that they know precisely what reality is. They can’t explain it. They just know in some unexplained way. If pressed we can come up with a few dimensions to frame our understanding. Such dimensions as tangibility, mutual discretion and measurement are ordinarily candidates for a definition. In other words if we can perceive stuff, that measured stuff is real. But hardly anyone thoroughly examines the relationship between that understanding and suffering. We measure stuff and people suffer—two observations, and these appear to have nothing to do with each other.

There was a man who devoted his life to a thorough examination of this matter and the world has never been the same since, at least for those who take the time to consider what he discovered. The man lived a long time ago (more than 2,500 years ago) and his name was Siddhartha, who became Gautama Buddha. What he discovered changed my life and the lives of millions since he lived. His understanding is contained in the first of eight steps which he identified to enable anyone to find a way to solve their own suffering problem, and that first step revolves around the interrelated matters of emptiness and dependent origination—my topics for this post.

To the ordinary eye, these two matters are obscure and foreign, but when looked at carefully the way forward becomes clear. The first of these—emptiness—challenges the premise of mutual discretion: that things are different and independent from other things. For example, we regard “up” as different from “down” and are persuaded that these two are independent matters. The same goes for in/out, forwards/backwards, or anything else, which have two opposing dimensions (everything does). 

To the ordinary eye these are always separate and opposite, just as Republicans and Democrats are—separate and opposed to one another. Emptiness says simply that this observation is both true and not true at the same time. It is not true that any pair can be divided. Instead these exist only as pairs. Without up, there could be no down. Without an “in” where would “out” be located? Each half of these pairs is not real by themselves but real only as pairs. To acknowledge the validity of one half you must accept the validity of the other half, otherwise neither is valid. Here the rule of discrimination governs all. It’s an either/or world of compromised choices with clear winners and clear losers. In a nutshell that’s emptiness. It goes much deeper than the nut but for the moment just stay with that.

Then we come to a kissing cousin of emptiness—dependent origination. This principle says that everything is linked together (just as the pairs are) and one thing causes another, which then cascades onto other things. The water cycle is a perfect example. Every aspect of this cycle is created by what came before and then creates the next step in the cycle, in a circular feedback that never ends. So long as we remain in the sphere of relative and conditional life none of these feedback cycles can ever be avoided because everything is in constant motion. When one dimension comes into existence what follows also comes into existence. Rising, heated water vapor ultimately cools and turns into rain. Birth ultimately turns into death. These cycles repeat endlessly without a beginning and without an ending. In a nutshell that’s dependent origination.

In our physical and conditional world, these two matters—emptiness and dependent origination point to why we suffer. We do so because we try to retain the good parts of these changing cycles and avoid the bad parts, but this is impossible to orchestrate. What brings us joy in one moment brings us sadness in the next. Nobody can stop the tides of anything, thus the conclusion that “life sucks.” And if that were the end of the matter then that conclusion would be correct. Fortunately that is not the end of the matter because emptiness and dependent origination are deeper matters.

The law of these two principles, if valid, would have to apply to everything including conditional life. Just as up can only exist with the partner of down, conditional life can only exist with the partner of unconditional life. Conditional life is empty by itself and real only with a partner. We can perceive anything and everything of conditional life because of the perceptible nature of objects, and these objects are always in opposition and in motion. The first and preliminary part of solving the suffering problem is thus to not cling but rather to savor each passing moment with the awareness that soon the savor will turn into the sour. Be here now is a familiar code for one form of Zen, but frankly, that premise sucks. Who truly looks forward to eventual sadness? It helps but it is insufficient.

Ultimate victory comes by moving beyond the conditional and into the unconditional where discrimination and sadness cease to exist. What brought me enduring grief was this cycle of destruction. I was trapped in one cycle after another and could find no relief. I never realized until I reached the end there was an alternative. Only when I ran out of gas did I say to myself, “To hell with this,” if I can’t find a better way I don’t want to live. 

Then I just sat down and refused to get up until I found the key. Only when I let go, completely, of the bargain of hope did I find the other side—the unconditional side, which I never knew existed. When it happened I was dumb-founded and wholly disoriented, but I was also in a state of mind without suffering! I had no idea what had transpired but I loved it. Before it happened I was full of despair. Afterwards I was whole and pure. But since I had experienced nothing but the cycles for my entire life, I kept waiting and expecting that blissful experience to pass away. It never passed and has remained a constant presence. It’s now been more than 40 years and it is still here.

Having said that, it is important to say that I’m still just as much affected by the swings as before. But no longer do the swings affect my stability. My true sense of being is now rock solid. Nothing causes it to waver. And this is what dependent origination means at the deeper level. Both sides are true together and neither side is true separately. And at a deeper level yet, is the ultimate value of Gautama’s understanding—his first step (Right View): while all of us are different, we are also the same, and neither of these truths is real separately. Conditionally we are apart. Unconditionally we are united.

Buddhism's Two Realms

As Buddhism becomes known in the West, an unfortunate development has occurred due to our preoccupation with science. Objectivity is the cornerstone of science since it begins and ends with the ability to measure phenomena. Anything beyond that constraint has no scientific validity and is consequently seen of no value. There is much of value about Buddhism from that limited perspective, just as there is much value in the study of anatomy, but neither anatomy nor phenomenal Buddhism has very much to say about the sublime source of both, and neither could exist without it.

Centuries ago, Nagarjuna established his “Two Truth Doctrine.” He stated that we live within two realms—The phenomenal realm of measurable convention and the noumenal realm. And he said that without intuiting the sublime, we remain in bondage. Advance the clock to the current time and what has begun to emerge is an attempt to create a quasi-science based on just the measurable realm, leaving the essential core behind. The result is form with no emptiness, a sort of paint-by-the-numbers Buddhism to be administered by unenlightened therapists schooled and knowledgeable of the conventional realm but completely lacking acknowledge of the sublime side.

There is little argument that rational logic helps construct a vast web of contemporary usefulness, but none of this solves the spirit's crisis so prevalent today. A solution for that will always take us to the sublime. “When knowledge and views are established, knowing is the root of ignorance. When knowledge and views do not exist, seeing itself is nirvana.” (Chan Master Shangfang Yu-an)

Ego Death

From time to time, I’ve written about “ego death” or “allowing the self to die.” In Jungian psychology, ego death is synonymous with psychic death, which refers to a fundamental transformation of the psyche.

Our mind is an amazing biological fabrication composed of different cells and neurons located in different parts of our brain, which function differently, yet results in a seamless view of the world and ourselves. In a balanced way, our right and left hemispheres function to bring together very different modalities to form a balanced world view, which is both analytical and compassionate. Unfortunately, most of us are not balanced due to various reasons and tend to be either overly analytic or overly affectively sensitive. For the most part, our left brain rules the day, and this hemisphere is the home of our ego (sense of self).

Our ego-mind perceives the world in a possessive/resistant way, which creates attachments, clinging, and judgments. If we like (a judgment) something, our ego attaches favorably. If we dislike (a judgment) something, our ego attaches unfavorably. This clinging to conditions results in a brittle, judgmental, and inflexible perspective of ourselves, others, and life in general. Whereas a balanced mind recognizes our interdependent union with all life, our ego-mind denies this and treasures exclusivity and independence.

The three poisons (e.g., greed, ignorance, and hatred) manifest out of this imbalanced ego exclusivity. As we grow and mature, these poisons create strife for ourselves and others we come in contact with. We respond to this strife in one of two ways: Blame and denial or learning. The first response just exacerbates the poisons, whereas the latter choice moves us to realize they are rooted in our out of balance ego-mind.

Life, in essence, is structured so that we either awaken or we continue to suffer. This alternative set (in Buddhist terminology) is referred to as Nirvana vs. Saṃsāra—Bliss vs. Suffering. If we live long enough and are open-minded, we will eventually come to see the truth, and when this transformation happens, our ego (as the exclusive judge) dies—so to speak. The fact is this sense of self never dies but is transformed.

This transformation can be facilitated through Zen meditation. We learn to quiet the constant left-brain chatter that emanates from our ego with its judgments and critique, which normally overshadows our compassionate nature (e.g., dominates). This chatter is so loud and relentless that we could easily go through life with very little, if any, understanding of our pure and true nature, which makes life worth living. It is unfortunate that few follow this path toward breakthrough and remain ignorant of our complete human potential.

Breaking through occurs when our left-brain chatter comes to a halt, and we become aware of our deepest nature, which is always present. This is a matter of subtraction—a sort of shedding—rather than adding or seeking. Lao Tzu put it this way...“Empty yourself of everything. Let the mind rest at peace. The ten thousand things rise and fall while the Self watches their return.” And this...“In the pursuit of learning, every day, something is acquired. In the pursuit of Tao, every day, something is dropped. Less and less is done until non-action is achieved (e.g., non-action=Wu Wei). When nothing is done, nothing is left undone.”

Unbound or Rebinding?

Many have wondered how to classify Buddhism since it is not preeminently concerned with a God concept (as normally understood by westerners). Is it a method of psychotherapy? Is it a philosophy? A moral code? Religion? What? 

These suggest a desire to define, categorize, and set apart Buddhism from other categorical forms. And the answer is “All of the above” and “None of the above.” The truth is that Buddhism can be (and is) understood to conform to all of these definitions (or not) depending on the nature of the person under consideration—which is infinite in variation—and at a deeper level, without variation.

At the level of self-awareness, there is no end to differences—as varied as snow-flakes. And at the deeper level, we are all just snow. But to go to the heart of an answer, it’s necessary to deal with the matter of a self. Buddhism teaches that there is no such thing as a substantial self—only an illusory one, shaped by unending changing circumstances and karma. This self-substance illusion gives rise to possessiveness, greed, and aversion, which produces suffering and anxiety. And this illusion cascades across every human dimension from the psychological to moral persuasion, to relationships with others and the sublime.

At the deeper level—where we are just snow—there are no differences, and “self” is understood as an interdependent reality connected with everything with no boundaries. There is no inner vs. outer; no beginning vs. ending, no versus anything since there is no discrimination.

Religion (in a western form) is concerned primarily with re-tying a broken link with an external God. The word Religion means —re, “again,” lig, “align,” and ion, “action,” and how this retying occurs differs according to dogma taught by the various religious forms. 

Buddhism is radically different on this score, where there is no presumption of a broken link with an external God. The problem is the same—alienation and estrangement—but the presumption is different. In Buddhism, alienation happens due to the empowerment of the elusive self (ego). This impediment blocks integration with both our true nature and the world in which we live.

For a very long time in Buddhism, the goal of liberation from bondage—the alleviation of suffering—has been understood as Nirvana’s realization, which is seen as extinguishment when the fuel is used up. And the metaphor here is a dying flame of a candle when the oil is expended. There are some sects of Buddhism, still, which maintain this means freedom following literal mortal death. 

Other sects propose this liberation as a here-and-now proposition, which is called parinirvāṇa (e.g., nirvana-after-death), to which an entire sutra was devoted—Mahaparinirvana. The key to any understanding of Nirvana is an acceptance of what is considered to be extinguished. In other words, “life and death.” If life is understood as a physical matter, then death must be understood in the same fashion. In this case, true liberation can only be realized when physical life’s flame uses up physical energy.

On the other hand, if life is understood as unobstructed essence at the snow level, death is associated with unenlightened snowflakes—the illusion of a substantial self, which creates a living hell of alienation and opposition. Zen teaches that true liberation is a matter of waking up to the unbroken and ever-pure nature, which has never left us in the first place. So there is nothing to re-tie. To attempt to find what has never been lost is a guarantee of continuing in bondage, sort of like dying of thirst in the midst of water.

And while many who practice Zen are persuaded of this ever-present, never-lost reality, they still reach for a special psychic state which they associate with Kensho, Samādhi, or enlightenment. What they fail to see is that this very reaching is what blocks what they seek. The subtle trap inherent in this quest for fulfillment keeps the traveler locked into an “other-worldly, not-now” mentality. The goal is always moving away, the faster the chase.

It must be said that the key to either western religious forms or Buddhism to genuine liberation/salvation is surrender, from the quest or from the attempt to achieve what is already present. It is this state of yielding and acceptance; this acknowledgment of emptiness, that produces the desired state of selflessness. And when this state is achieved, the world opens, and we go through the door as new yet ageless beings.

Wrapping up the Eight-Fold Path

When we set off on a journey we want to know from where we’re starting, where we are going, and how to get to our destination. This line of inquiry is perfectly natural.

In the Diamond Sutra, Subhūti wanted to know the same thing about traveling the Path of a Bodhisattva. He asked about the nature of sentient beings and how to conduct himself in the mission to liberate them. And right off the bat The Buddha threw out a curveball and thus set the tone for the entire Sutra. In response to Subhūti’s questions, The Buddha said,

“And though I thus liberate countless beings, not a single being is liberated. And why not? Subhūti  a bodhisattva who creates the perception of a being cannot be called a ‘bodhisattva’. And why not? Subhūti  no one can be called a bodhisattva who creates the perception of a self or who creates the perception of a being, life, or a soul.”

This response is repeated numerous times throughout this Perfection of Wisdom Sutra. Understanding this statement is central to properly traveling the Noble Eightfold Path.

As the Sutra unfolds, Subhūti’s depth of understanding advances but never wavers from this initial starting point. The Buddha explains that a self (ego) is an illusion that manifests in an infinite cascade of further illusions, all of which obscure and block enlightenment and thus undermines the mission of liberation. Beings are just other selves who are likewise illusions and an illusion can’t be saved since illusion are not real. There are a couple of points regarding a “self” which must be grasped to start off on the right foot.

• A self is a fabrication; an ego; a thought-form; an abstraction of our identities. Any thought, and particularly this thought, is not real. A thought has no substance. It is a pure mental product.

• The Buddhist understanding of something real is what has intrinsic substance. An independent entity with its own substance (not dependent upon anything else) would be real. But dependent origination correctly points out that nothing within the realm of ordinary existence possesses independent status and is thus not real. An ego-self has no independent status and is thus not real.

By misidentifying with this self we don’t see our true nature as Buddha-Nature, (e.g., the eternal, ever-present, inherent natrual condition of being capable of awakening) which is unconditional and the same for all sentient beings. Throughout the Sutra the Buddha builds the case that because there is no self, there are no beings to liberate, thus no path. Yet without a path beings would remain in bondage, attached to delusions. Consequently, The Buddha says there is a Path and there are beings to liberate. The Buddha employs expedient means in order to free them.

Centuries later Nāgārjuna addressed this conundrum with what has become known as the Two-Truth Doctrine. Essentially this doctrine acknowledges that in order to lead someone to a deep sublimity it is necessary to begin from where they can understand. There are partial truths of the world and truths which are sublime. To coin a modern-day term, You can’t get there from here. To arrive at the sublime you must first know there are two truths and then go through the partial to reach the sublime.

The Buddha says, furthermore that because the true nature of beings is Buddha-Nature, they are already liberated and thus can’t be set free and finally, given the true nature of the Buddha—as the Dharmakāya  (e.g., truth-body, or the inherent body of truth—the transcendent source of all wisdom) at the level of our existence which alone is real—there is no beginning nor end to the Path nor beings to liberate. The Dharmakāya is the realm of non-conditions, thus non-karma, completely without differentiation of any kind. The realm of Nirvana is therefore the same realm as delusions. 

Accepting this truth releases us from the desire to leave the realm of delusion and seek the realm of Nirvana. They are one and the same realm and both leaving and seeking are forms of attachment that lie at the heart of suffering. Being ignorant of this truth is what binds beings who continue in Saṃsāra as ones who die of thirst in a vast sea of water.

Taking the first step on this Path, which is no Path, with this Right View (1) is the only way to realize enlightenment (which already exists).

The next step is Right Intentions (2) which flows from the first right view. Because of the non-differentiated nature of our essential being, we are in fact no different from other beings and our intentions must therefore be measured in a selfless fashion. By genuinely seeing ourselves, others, and Buddha as One we can then move on to the Right Actions (3) to mete out behavior on the other side of karma (to which Buddhas are not subject).

Right actions thus result in no merit since they are selfless, and within the Dharmakāya merit is already full. The truth is that in the realm of Dharmakāya there is no difference between merit and non-merit because there is no difference between anything: everything is non-dual. Precepts that emerge from such selfless intentions are not done to gain merit but rather as expressions of a goal that has already been reached. Actions are thus gifts which we pass on having already received them ourselves.

Right speech (4) is another form of action and is constructed within the spirit of doing no harm. Guidelines for determining speech that is right are useful but must not be clung to lest they become objects of attachment. Every disease is unique and requires special medicine tailor-made to fit the specific disease.

Right livelihood (5) is likewise “right” when we are employed in professions that don’t bring harm to ourselves and others while being free of the three poisons (greed, anger, and ignorance). To be thus employed will further the cause of emancipation by creating good karma and therefore assisting the reduction of delusions emanating from a false self.

Right effort (6) flows from a developed understanding that we are truly interdependent with life. Such an effort is no-effort. It is wu-wei—a natural extension of non-attachment. Wu-wei does not arise from the false self (ego) but rather from our true, already enlightened nature and is thus not ours. It is to surrender or give oneself over to the ubiquitous, flow of Buddha-nature. In the words of Bodhidharma, “To know clearly the bliss of detachment is to walk on the path of the Tao. This is the rule of non-attachment.”

And finally, the Path comes full-circle back to the ground of all Buddhas by engaging the two-fold practice of Right mindfulness (7) and Right concentration (8). Through the practice of meditation, those who travel the Eightfold Path deepen their insight and experience Hishiryo consciousness where all preoccupation with thoughts and non-thoughts come to an end and subject (self) melds with objects (manifestations of self). When this state is realized, delusions cease and we arrive back at our True Nature—A Nature with no beginning nor end.

The Nobel Eightfold Path is thus The Middle Way between the extremes of denial of existence (All things are empty—Nihilism) and the belief in permanence (everything has independence and permanence). Both are truly united and neither are true apart. It is a matter of perspective. From the perspective of the Dharmakaya, everything exists eternally without conditions. But from the perspective of nirmanakaya and the sambhogakaya things are born and die dependent upon causal conditions. By traveling this Path with these eight Rights in mind we free ourselves from delusions which create suffering and come to both understand and experience our true natures.