My way or the highway.

If it isn’t patently clear by now, “my way” is the highway to somebody else, who considers “our way” the flip side of “their way.” Wouldn’t it be great if there were an absolute way where there was neither “my way” nor the other way around? This idea of a universally embraced absolute with everyone on the same page is a fool’s paradise. This dilemma has never been more apparent than now, and the factions are growing further and further apart. Why is this division increasing? The Buddha had the answer more than 2,500 years ago, and at the core of the answer lies the thorny matter of how to define oneself. 

The ordinary way is in terms of an ego (e.g., the idea, or image, of who we think we are). From that perspective, the possessive nature of “I” is “mine,” which is of course not “yours.” That’s a problem since mine is clearly different from yours (and the opposite). And never the twain shall meet. That being the case, what is the solution? The extraordinary way of enlightenment where possessiveness disappears since in an enlightened state of mind “I” fuses with “not I,” and the difference between you and me disappears.

From the perspective of “I,” ideologues are the chains that bind us, and dogma becomes the order of the day. Rules, regulations, and laws ensure the walls that divide us. On the other hand, when we become enlightened, dogmas also disappear. Everything is in a state of continuous change and what worked yesterday, does not work today. Conditions change moment by moment and without rules, the unenlightened are disoriented and lost.

However, once a person becomes enlightened, change segues into the wisdom of “expedient means.” Then the challenge shifts from inflexible rules to flexible adaptation, taking into account circumstances as they emerge. To one who has not reached that state of mind, expedient means translate as being dishonest or disingenuous. Since the ego standards of morality are wedded to the rules of that which is measurable and never changes. The very idea of defying objectivity is a poison pill to the unenlightened, and anyone who dances to a different tune is not to be taken seriously or to be trusted. However, according to Chán Master Sheng Yen, “When knowledge and views are established, knowing is the root of ignorance. When knowledge and views do not exist, seeing itself is nirvana.” 

Another Zen Master expressed the difference this way: “Before we understand, we depend on instruction. After we understand, instruction is irrelevant. The dharmas taught by the Tathagata (e.g., The Buddha) sometimes teach existence and sometimes teach non-existence. They are all medicines suited to the illness. There is no single teaching. But in understanding such flexible teachings, if we should become attached to existence or to non-existence, we will be stricken by the illness of dharma-attachment (inflexible truth). Teachings are only teachings. None of them are real.”—Chi-fo (aka Feng-seng). 

In the end, morality is not a one-size-fits-all. Instead, it is governed by that which benefits one and all, except of course those who are clearly wedded to ignorance and work to ensure everyone must be sacrificed on the altar of their ego-enhancement

The certainty of failure.

“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.”⎯Alan Watts

As Voltaire indicated, while doubt is an unpleasant state of mind, the presumption of certainty is absurd. One of the essential differences between Buddhism (which is based on the certainty of change) and other religious institutions concerns this matter of uncertainty, and what to do about it. Since change is inevitable, The Buddha promoted upaya, which translates as “expedient means.” There are no fixed solutions that always work, and to continue down the road of life, based on the expectation of certainty is a fool's errand.

On an individual or a tribal basis, such behavior is known as clinging to dogma⎯The pinnacle of “inappropriate ideological conduct,” and always opposed to other such conduct, not like them. The specific nature of constantly unfolding life is not predictable. Yet, it does not stop us from manufacturing hardened walls—their purpose being to take the capacity to wiggle out of life itself. It can’t be done for a simple reason: Life=wiggle.

Our vision is limited. We tend to see what is on-the-surface, perceptible, and lies within our immediate sphere. Those who traveled on the Titanic, unfortunately, discovered this error too late. Hardly an ounce of consideration goes into how we got here, or where our footsteps are leading. Our presumption is that there is a straight, safe path from the past through our present and on to a predictable future. To make matters worse, we then enshrine our words and actions into habitual ideologies and rules, forgetting that how we got here was 100% unpredictable. The continuing gap between prediction and reality never ceases!

Some years hence Nassim Nicholas Taleb wrote a New York Times bestseller called The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable. According to Taleb, few if any of the significant human tides were, or could have been, predicted. He was, and is, of course, correct. And one of the key reasons for his accuracy is uncertainty. Just as very few swans are black (most are white), very few tides happen as we predict, simply because of the constancy variable (e.g., the uncertainty factor). Who could have predicted a coronavirus pandemic? Or the economic melt-down that resulted? Change is the only sure thing, and nobody can predict the precise nature of change.

This is a vast human problem to our collective wellbeing since many of the most significant tides, blind-side us with catastrophes, and we are then forced to rush to unfounded judgments, grasping for straws, while juggling fate. And then, not learning from our errors, going on to craft, yet again, other fixed ideologies that will likewise fail. Life is not constructed within an unchanging straight-jacket. Instead, it wiggles and always expands beyond the limitations we construct—in error—as we try-try-yet-again to make it steady and forthright, thus rendering it predictable.

This admonition is global in nature. And the under-the-radar truth is that our collective consciousness is the result of trillions of individual contributions, invisibly happening all of the time and merging with other equally unpredictable bubbles constituting the Great Life Sea—which is nothing more than those collective bubbles, forming a frothy tide washing upon, and grinding away, the boundaries we set.

One of the most significant of all compendiums of Mahayana Buddhist wisdom, conveying this principle of uncertainty, comes from The Diamond Sutra. And the essence of wisdom therein was stated by The Buddha as:

“So what should be on one’s mind, as one begins the Bodhisattva journey?

‘Like a falling star, like a bubble in a stream, Like a flame in the wind, like frost in the sun, Like a flash of lightning or a passing dream—So should you understand the world of the ego.’” (e.g., A world of continuous change, dominated by greed, anger, and ignorance).

The perfect is the enemy of the good.

The Impossible Dream

I admire intelligent people and try to profit from their words of wisdom. Shakespeare is one of my favorites, and one of his quotes is a “go-to” for me: “A rose by any other name smells as sweet.” 

Now for the topic of the day: The perfect is the enemy of the good. Many wise and famous people have said as much…

• Voltaire: “The best is the enemy of the good.”

• Confucius: “Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without.”

• Shakespeare: “Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.”

I know; I’m repeating myself and thus beating a dead horse, but I can’t escape my past (e.g., education and experience in the advertising business). While working within that industry, I learned an important and fundamental principle of persuasion: Frequency. 

The more a person hears the same message, the better the odds of breaking through barriers and making a difference. And this issue is important with significant barriers. And yes, I am aware of the psychology of the “Backfire Effect,”—The tendency for us all to dig in and defend an opinion that appears to be at odds with, and contradicts, opinion of our own. 

It is really tough to break through the barrier of tightly held dogmas for a simple reason: Egotism. It is an unfortunate aspect of human nature to resist admitting error since it seems to threaten our egos. That barrier is what keeps us all locked in, hunkered down, and ready to defend to the death (sometimes literally) our ideologies, preconceived notions, and biases. 

Those matters constitute adornments that define our egos: We become our ideas (or so it seems), and one of the most destructive, and instructive, ideas is this business of The perfect is the enemy of the good. That idea, without exception, leads to a lack of progress unless we can be persuaded that our pursuit is a Don Quixote quest of jousting with windmills and singing The Impossible Dream of perfection, or nothing at all.

Infinite us.

We have a vision problem. We can see some things and not others. And naturally, we assume that what we see is the true you and me. 

That detectible is the objective part of us. We can touch, feel, see, and perceive it in every way our sensory faculties allow. That part is finite. It is born, it grows, and ultimately dies. That objective aspect has an imaginary identity, and we define and clothe it in a nearly unlimited set of configurations. We cherish such configurations and use them to represent us. We group these configurations into common frameworks in order to feel comfortable with others who choose similar arrangements, and we call this grouping, “flocking together with birds of a feather.” These birds love to fight other birds that don’t look the same.

This is the ordinary way of understanding ourselves in relation to others, and there is an unseen problem here because nothing objective possesses sentient qualities. A stone is a pure object. So is a blade of grass. Neither of these (and many other examples) has sentient qualities of consciousness, at least as far as we know, but we do. All animate beings have both sentient qualities and consciousness. These are the faculties that differentiate us from pure objects, and these are what make us human. But neither consciousness nor sentient dimensions can be seen because this is what is doing the seeing.

There are two parts of us, which are completely integrated into a single human being. One part is seen. One part is seeing. One part is infinitely different and seen, and the other part is infinitely the same and unseen. One part is finite, and one part is infinite. The true you and the true me is never born and never dies, but the other part does both. We’re told we now share the earth with 7 billion very different objective human bodies, and yet on another level, there is only a single, just-like-everyone-else infinite us. It’s a profound mystery.

A Bird in hand.

Here or There?

Permeate. Interpenetrate. Assimilation: all mean essentially the same thing—To infuse one thing completely into another thing, so the distinction between the two no longer exists. 

Mix the color red with the color blue and purple results. Now there is no more red or blue. Combine liquid water with extreme cold and ice results. Now there is the result of interpenetration. Mix spirit with matter, and what do you get? A sentient being with no more boundary lines between matter and spirit. Now mix two or more sentient beings, and what do you get? Chaos. 

Red is different from blue, and they don’t fight. Water and cold are different, and they don’t fight. Spirit and matter are different, and they do fight. Isn’t that odd? How can it be explained?  The problem is consciousness and perception. Red, blue, water, and cold are not conscious, but suddenly, there is fighting over differences when you add consciousness. And the reason is simple: Consciousness produces the capacity to perceive, and what a sentient being perceives are differences. 

Nobody can perceive a spirit, just what a spirit produces—sentient matter. There are both benefits and consequences of being human. We are a mixture of matter and spirit. We are sentient beings. We perceive only differences. We don’t perceive our true spiritual nature because it can’t be perceived through our ordinary senses. We would rather have what we imagine is a couple of birds in the bush instead of the one in our hands. The one in our hands is no longer either spirit or matter. Now it is simply One whole sentient being: the infusion of Spirit and non-spirit. We are the Middle Way.

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.

Getting out of jail

Having a clear understanding of a problem is essential to finding a solution. Buddhism may be the best solution to the problem of suffering. But is that the problem or a symptom? Perhaps we need to better understand the root of suffering before accepting it as the problem.

Certainly, illusion is part of the root. An illusion is, of course, something that has no self-containing substance and is fleeting. That is how the four “dharma seals” are defined—All compounded things are impermanent, all emotions are painful, all phenomena are empty, and nirvana is beyond extremes.  More to the point, illusion is the sea in which we swim. We think we live in an objectively substantial world. Still, both the Buddha and modern science say otherwise—That our only ability to discern anything is a matter of images projected in our brain. This nature of illusion is foundational to our existence. Consequently, the root problem must be understood within that all-pervasive context. We are idea people living within the framework of ideas. Or, as the Sutra of Complete Enlightenment says, “We solve illusion by employing illusion.” There is no other way.

Then we come to the matter of self-understanding. How did we get here? And where did we come from? That is not a metaphysical set of questions. It infers the emergence of identity and the process of identity formation. And to understand this process is enlightening. All of us begin life in the cocoon of our mother’s womb, where we are a single being and literally attached. At that point, there is no separation between mother and child. There is no such thing as an idea of a separate self since we are not a separate being. Only following mortal birth are we separated, and only then does the process of individuation begin.

Watching a young child begin to grapple with not being one with the mother is an important part of understanding the root problem. Slowly a child becomes self-aware, not as joined physically with mother, but as a separate person with an emerging and isolated identity. At first, this awareness results in stark terror! One moment mother is there, and the next, she is gone. The unavoidable awareness is separation and difference, and then the next step of psychic construction takes place: If not, mother, then who? This moment is the beginning of the idea of self (ego). From that seed grows fear of survival as a separate and isolated individual with a unique but vulnerable identity.

Phenomenally, mutual discretion is the standard. We see others as mutually discrete from us. We see ourselves as separate and apart from them. In our perceived isolation, we are afraid of dying and trapped in a conundrum: We must emerge as independent but are, in fact, linked, if not physically (as previously with mother), then certainly spiritually and mentally. And the result of this conundrum is possessiveness and greed, the rationale being that if we are separate and isolated, then for survival, we must hoard and insure against risk. It quickly becomes a matter of me and mine and self-absorption.

This idea of self—an extension of our ground of illusion—then becomes the mask which hides our truth: That we are not an objective image, but rather a subjective reality that has never been disconnected from anyone or anything. At the imperceptible level of our true nature, we are interdependently connected, but for this awareness to evolve, the image of a separate self (ego) must pass away. 

The death of a self-image is a suffering matter since it seems so real (just like all illusions can). Thus, the solution is to dissolve this phantom and find our true, never-divided self—To release our attachment to an idea and find our substance. And that is what makes Zen nearly magical because it is a process of releasing from illusions but always from within the illusion context. We are not “just” an idea. We are both an idea (phenomena—discernible but unreal) and noumena—real but imperceptible. We will never be released from an ego. It is our imaginary self and a part of who we are, but we can be detached from bondage, which comes from seeing ourselves as its exclusive prisoner. From that understanding comes freedom—That we exist and that we don’t: The Middle Way.

Reifying Illusion

“Reifying”—An uncommon but important word. It means being confused about the nature of something fundamentally not real, but we believe it is. For example, we firmly believe our identity is substantially real, yet it changes as life ebbs and flows. 

Imagine that you go to a movie. When you enter the theater, you have no doubts about the film’s nature. You know that what appears on the screen is pure illusion. The movie might be quite involving to the point that you actually get swept up and affected, but never do you think you are actually in the movie. If you cannot distinguish the unreal nature of the movie from your normal reality, you would be called delusional and would be guilty of reification.

Our normal understanding of reality is that we are not “in the movies,” and we can thus compare this “normal” condition against other states of consciousness to establish whether or not they are real. It never occurs to us that the conditions we perceive are no better than what we see on the theater screen, yet there is very little difference between the two. 

The only difference is where the movie screen is located. The real movie screen is actually in our brains. Even the movie screen in the theater can only be perceived in our brain—we see two movies: One which we assume is in the theater and the other, which is actually a projection in our brain.

We have learned through modern neurology the same as what the Buddha said 2,500 years ago—That what we take for granted as real is actually an illusion. It is impossible to perceive anything without a brain, and our sense of objectivity is the result of projected images. Not knowing this, we then reify these images: Believing that the abstractions are real. If that is not bad enough, we assume that our real self (e.g., true Self) is nothing more than a perceptible object and label it a self-image (ego).

Our entire sense of reality is upside down. It turns out that what we have understood as real is actually nothing more than illusions and what we have thought was unreal (our true nature) is actually the only reality that exists. Our perceptions have fooled us and left us with a genuine mess. The result of this glitch is that we end up clinging to vapor and then suffering as it slides through our fingers. Little did we know that The Buddha has been right all along.

Isolation or Unity

In the past few days, a man murdered three women, injured 10 more, and then turned his gun on himself. He left behind many tracks declaring his intention, one of which was his blog. Amongst his many comments, he said that he felt isolated and rejected. 

Sadly this is not an unusual reflection in today’s world. Rather it is very understandable given how we ordinarily consider ourselves and others. Phenomenally we are all very different and separate. If that is all that we are, everyone can only experience themselves within that tight definition—isolated and estranged. 

That is a fairly accurate understanding of what phenomenal life means: As things appear. When we consider ourselves and others as purely phenomenal, the only possible conclusion is that we and they are mere objects, lacking intimacy and life. In that case, shooting someone is not much different from a video game. In our contemporary world, too often, this one-sided view has become the standard—pure objectivity and nothing else. Buddhism holds a very different view. 

Not only are we (and all life) objects, but we are also subjects and whatever is subjective contains an eternal spirit that is unborn and never dies. The unity of these two sides (phenomena and noumena, or subject and object) is accepted as a fundamental aspect of existence. Given that unity, all of life is sacred and without discrimination. The lowest of life-form contains the same Buddha-Nature as the most enlightened person. This understanding can radically transform anyone’s experience from isolation to unity and from a lack of caring to compassion.