What’s the difference —Thinking and Knowing?

Please describe the taste of an orange, the smell of rotting flesh, the feel of a feather brushing your skin, what fear looks like, the experience of giving birth, or the sound of rushing water. And use words for these descriptions. 

Do the words capture each of these experiences? Not even close, yet undoubtedly you know all of these experientially. Nothing in life, as experienced, is the same as how these same experiences are described. Our thoughts and words are always abstractions representing something but not the thing itself. You wouldn’t be satisfied eating an ephemeral thought of an orange, or stuffing a piece of paper into your mouth upon which you wrote the word “orange.” Ideas and expressions about experiences, as good as the words can ever be, are poor and unsatisfying substitutes for something real.

A long time ago a Chinese sage by the name of Lao Tzu said in The Tao Te Ching, “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the eternal name. The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth. The named is the mother of ten thousand things. Ever desireless, one can see the mystery. Ever desiring, one can see the manifestations.”

“The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth.” What can’t ever be named is beyond language and is itself the source of everything. What might this unnamed Tao be? Think clearly about non-thought. If you can grasp it then it won’t be it. A thought called “non-thought” is conceptual and remains just another thought. Grasping is about intellectual understanding but knowing is experiential. To know the one who detects either thought or the absence is to truly know yourself—The nameless.

Dreaming of reality.

Image via Wikipedia

Dreams can be strange. Such a dream allegedly happened with Chuang-tzu (Zhuangzi)—an influential Chinese philosopher who lived in the 4th century BCE. Much of his perspectives can be found in his book—“The Great Happiness.” 

One of his most famous is called “The butterfly dream,” following:

“Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awoke, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly, there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things.”

This dream echoes unenlightened life. We think we are real, but if we are not aware of the vast dimension that frames our existence we are like Chuang-tzu’s butterfly, wondering about the real and unreal. Are we asleep, dreaming that we are awake as ego people? Or have we awakened to the transforming nature of the butterfly?

“Have you ever had a dream Neo that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to awaken from that dream. How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?”—The Matrix (the movie)

A famous Zen Master once said, “Nobody wants to wake up from good dreams; only nightmares.” There are many nightmares in our world today and it is the time we wake up. To be a Buddha means to awaken to the reality of who you truly are.