Karma and the Wheel of Dharma

Wheel of The Dharma

Yesterday we looked at the causal links that produce bad karma. Today we’ll look at the other side—the wheel of Dharma, leading to good karma and emancipation. 

One of the essential points discussed yesterday was, “Acting on faith…” The question is, faith in what? And the answer is faith in the other side of form. Faith that there really is this thing called emptiness (otherwise known as pure consciousness): The dimension that contains truth, rather than inversions of truth.

To remind you, the inversions of truth were suffering, impermanence, non-self, and life of impurity. The reason that faith is required is that emptiness is not accessible through our ordinary sensory faculties, and to get to that place of truth we must let go of what we can sense only, and are so sure of what we think we know—the ordinary manner of discernment. The path to truth is spiritual rather than perceptual. 

When we follow that path, then we experience the opposite of truth inversions. The dimensions of manifested truth are bliss, permanence, our true self, and a life of indiscriminate purity: the realm of consciousness without conditions and the joint actions of the right choices and judgments. This is the realm where everything is unified before or after consciousness takes shape or form (which is a myth we use for the sake of convenience; time is a fabrication—there is no actual time). Albert Einstein made a similar observation: “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.” That being the case, there is no such thing as this or that: No self-absorbed choices, or judgments, and thus no error.

When we make choices, we believe those choices are right, in an unexamined way, we attach these choices to our unenlightened sense of self and become self-righteousness, defensive, and often hostile in our defense. And this belief, along with wrong concomitant actions, can at times lead us to be close-minded and violently defensive. There are numerous problems with this approach, and all of these put dust in our mouths, infects us (and others) with bad karma, and forces us to see who is to blame: Our deluded sense of self.

When most people think about “compassion,” they think of Buddhism. And in fact, this is accurate portraiture. Unfortunately, our idea of compassion, without transformation of our idea of self, is usually a way of gaining the accolades of others and fueling our egos. We may do the right thing but with a desire for applause. Unlike today, The Buddha didn’t recommend fueling our self-image or anesthetizing ourselves through drugs or make-nice-ego-building therapy. That’s the approach of today, but more than likely, that is not what The Buddha had in mind. He did not seem to be in favor of sustaining long term suffering through indolence. Quite the contrary, he may have been the original tough-love advocate. What he seemed to have recommended was to take off the rose-colored glasses and look deeply into how we create our own suffering. He prescribed harsh medicine, which was designed to make it crystal clear who was doing what to whom and recommended 12 chains of interdependent causal links that pointed the finger at us. As Pogo said, “We have seen the enemy, and it is us.”

Tough-love for sure, but his wisdom was flawless. None of us will take the necessary leap into the void of pure, unconditional consciousness until we see beyond a shadow of a doubt that the dusty road is intolerable, and we’re not going to take it anymore. More than likely, he wanted us to see beyond any doubt that we alone create our own path to destruction. When we follow the conditional, dualistic path, leading to choices and judgments of one thing versus another thing (in this case, life versus death), we get clear about the futility of our presumptions and beliefs. And what exactly did he want us to see?

What do most of us believe? We believe in what we perceive: The four inversions of truth—that life is impermanent, dominated by a false self (which we call ego), completely impure and over the top with suffering. Why is that? Quite simply, the perception-based means of discernment is designed for choosing between one thing and another thing, and when we couple this to a false self, we become self-righteous, defensively so. 

Now pause here and think about a serious question. Does anyone reading this really believe that Buddhism could last for 2,500 years as a significant force for emancipation if it was based on those four inversions? Even the village idiot could come up with that list, and the whole proposition would evaporate before it reached anyone’s perceptual capacities. So why did he want us to see the futility of those patently obvious facts? Because combined, they define how to keep eating dust and infecting others. He wanted us to be very clear about that. He wanted to teach us all about Nirvana vs. Saṃsāra, how they are related, how to get off of the path to perdition, and what to do to solve this universal problem that destroys everything. Only when we stand at the precipice of the mortal abyss will any of us choose a new path.

So if that combination doesn’t work—and it never has and never will—what will get us off the dusty path? Well, how about the opposite: Faith in the unseen realm of indiscriminate unity. This prescription is the ultimate form of dependent origination and is also what came to be known as The Two Truth Doctrine. This is the Wall that the Ladder of form rests against. Form is empty consciousness applied; Empty consciousness is form without application. The eternal, pure, blissful self is what has gone by the name of Buddha-Nature: our true nature—pure consciousness, which flows across the mythical bridge into form. 

In fact, there is no bridge since Buddha-nature/consciousness is undivided. Separation is just an idea that we choose to believe for many reasons. We imagine separation because we can’t perceive the void and thus assume that it doesn’t exist. And furthermore, our ideas concerning a void, are flawed. Emptiness is not actually empty. It is instead the wellspring of unadulterated wisdom and right vision—Unconditional truth. Or expressed alternately, The Dharmakaya: Body of truth, or The Womb of The Buddha that exists in us all. We, too, can awaken, and The Buddha gave us a road-map. 

We have too much dust in our eyes (a plank, if you prefer) and clouding our minds and don’t realize that without consciousness (The Dharmakaya), no detection of any form would be possible. The entire universe is a function of consciousness, or said another way: The universe is nothing other than the primordial mind in manifestation: The residual karma we previously created and the result, that The Buddha taught us about in the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, “Seeing the actions of body and mouth, we say that we see the mind. The mind is not seen, but this is not false. This is seeing by outer signs.”  Of course, the actual mind is the source (consciousness) and, as such, can’t see itself. We can only perceive fabricated (imaginary form) manifestations. The ego-mind of duality is self-creating, self-destructive, and pleasure-seeking at the expense of others. That is not the real mind. It is the fabricated mind with ego at the core.

So how exactly do we awaken to this awareness? How does it function? The same way that the other tree functioned from the taproot upward into branches of good karma. At the bottom is a tap root without doubt, which we call faith—in the unseen source (emptiness). Faith grows upward into four truths, instead of inversions. These truths then move up to the opposite of indolence, which is openness, receptivity, and confidence, which in turn destroys ignorance and turns a mind that is miserly, greedy, and jealous into a joyous mind that is giving, and sharing.

When this turn-about takes place, we meet our true self for the very first time. The Buddha said this about this transformation: “If impermanence is killed, what there is, is eternal Nirvana. If suffering is killed, one must gain bliss; if the void is killed, one must gain the real. If the non-self is killed, one must gain the True Self. Oh, great King! If impermanence, suffering, the Void, and the non-self are killed, you must be equal to me.” He was speaking to King Ajatasatru in the 25th chapter of the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra. 

Now comes two big questions: If we understand this message correctly, isn’t The Buddha saying that when this transformation occurs, doesn’t that eliminate the duality of discrimination, which makes us equal with one another and with the Buddha? And which of those two types would you rather hang out with? A loaded question for sure, but the answer should be crystal clear. Bad karma flows from one path (the dusty, infectious one), and good karma flows from the other path (one lined with gold). 

Never let it be said that our presumptions and beliefs don’t dominate us. What we believe will radically transform our lives.
I’ll end for today with a parable of two sons from The Dharma:

There once lived two sons of a king. Each of the sons became gravely ill, and the royal doctor was summoned. Upon a thorough examination, the royal doctor prescribed an unusual medication. Not being familiar with the medication, the sons were apprehensive. The first son clung tightly to conventional medications normally prescribed, became worse, and died. The surviving son saw clearly what had occurred with his brother because of doubt. Upon witnessing his brother’s death, he became desperate. Despite his preconceived beliefs and the unconventional nature of the doctor’s prescription, he overcame his doubt and decided to follow the advice of the royal doctor. To his amazement, his leap of faith resulted in an unexpected outcome: What began as apprehension and fear of the unknown, developed into a trusting relationship with the doctor, and he soon became well. In time the relationship between the wise son and the doctor blossomed, and the son was rewarded: The doctor shared his cherished remedies, not known to conventional doctors. And thus, his knowledge survived through the wise son who passes such knowledge on to all who are receptive and can likewise overcome their seeds of doubt.

The son who doubted and died is everyman. The royal doctor is the Tathagata, and the wise son represents all who hear of the unconventional remedy, overcome their doubt, and live. These will continue on and pass to others the good and certain medications of the doctor—they are the Bodhisattvas of the dharma.

In this mortal incarnation, I’ve been both sons. I spent a lot of time on that dusty path, in my egotistically, blinded state of mind, followed the path most taken, suffered a great amount, and refused to take the unorthodox medicine. The truth is that I was ignorant and not even aware there was any medicine, orthodox or otherwise. I nearly died, mortally, but while standing at the abyss, I happened upon the good doctor who had always been there, (unseen) and figured I had nothing to lose by switching to the road less traveled, ingesting unorthodox medicine and that saved me. Now I pass it on to you. 

And BTW: My present incarnation (as I appear to others) is that of a Gemini with two aspects, cemented together in a state of dependent origination (as we all are). Not only am I aware of both sides, the nature of them both, and just how they are needed to exist, but also able to see how my own karma is being created, as it unfolds. It is sort of like watching my own created movies and knowing I am the creator, the director, all of the actors, and the one sitting in a seat, located in a theater of the mind, but knowing simultaneously that the actual Mind is The Watcher, observing, but without judgment. So the ending question here is this: How do you like infecting those you supposedly love? And how does dust taste? And are you ready to take a leap of faith into emptiness and start living well?

The lens through which we see the world

Ego, by Hsiao-Yen Jones

Bias; vested interests; preconceived ideas; discrimination: All forms of distortion that shape our view of the world and our selves. Birds of a feather flocking together against birds with different feathers, but underneath the feathers, all just birds with no defining labels. What do you have when you get rid of feathers? Birds. What do we have when we get rid of our delusions? The real you and me: all humans, with no defining properties: A true man, without rank.

What we are not ordinarily aware of is that every single person is looking at life through the filter of a fabricated artifact that is continuously distorting our view of the world around us. Beneath the false remains the true, but to get through what lies beneath, we have to plunge through subconscious fears. Most recently, I wrote about this subconscious barrier in a post Dreams and delusions.

We think highly of ourselves and thus look down on others not like us. We reason that our views are right, so others must be wrong. We adore accolades, so we play to the adoring audiences. When seen through this egotistical artifact, we do so unaware of our bias and assume that our rose-colored glasses shade the world. We are the center of us, and the world conforms to our image. Love ourselves: love the world. Hate ourselves: hate the world. 

But first, we must come to know ourselves; The one beneath the lie. Without that awareness, we delude ourselves with thoughts of superiority (the opposite or somewhere in between), believing we wear the clothes of an emperor. Who is this self? Is that the one we are genuinely: The one that is dependent upon the votes of birds like us, who vacillates on the whim and opinions of others; who needs reinforcement to be whole and complete? Or the self, that is already whole, eternal, steady, loved, and loves? The ego needs everything because it is always incomplete and unreal. Our true self is eternally whole, complete, and needs nothing. In the 14th century a mystic by the name of Meister Eckhart said this concerning how one head, stands in comparison to another:

“Humanity in the poorest and most despised human being is just as complete as in the Pope or the Emperor.” And we know what sort of clothing the Emperor wears—none.

Fundamental humanity is not flawed in any way. It is complete already. The flaw is what stands in the form of our human birthright that puts one head above another. The ego is the archenemy of our authentic, united selves, and God. But at the ground level of our humanness, we are equal and good, whether Pope, Emperor, Buddha, or an average person. Remove the enemy, and our unity shows through.

The road to nowhere and everywhere.

There are some essential differences between spirituality (particularly Zen) and religions, one of which is Buddhism. To ensure we are beginning on the same page, since we are coming from such a broad spectrum of backgrounds and experiential differences, I need to start off with a few pedantic definitions, the first of which is abstraction. 

The definition of abstraction that seems most germane to my purposes is “considered apart from concrete existence,” or “difficult to understand, such as an abstruse concept.” Abstraction is thus an image or idea about something but not the something itself. It’s a representation that may be interpreted in a variety of ways by anyone who considers the image or idea. When we consider any idea we all bring with us our own biases, preconceived notions, beliefs, experiences, and points of view, which serve as potent filters that govern our understandings and alter our sense of reality. All of these factors shape our thinking that may shut or open the door of our minds and you can notice these filters functioning when you have a conversation with anyone. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and this sense of beauty (or ugliness) is determined mostly by these tightly held preconceived ideas. Birds of a kind find birds like themselves and reject birds not like them, based on such filters.

Some time ago I wrote a post called The Man in the moon: a whimsical expression about the discriminatory impact of labels, which causes us to make inappropriate judgments about others. Those labels serve the purpose of forming filters that quite effectively close that door of our minds and keep us trapped within dogmatic thought processes where we convince ourselves that such and such is true, simply because we have been conditioned by those biases, preconceived notions, beliefs, experiences, points of view and reinforced by agreements from our bird friends.

Contrast this process of filtering against a fundamental aspect of human nature of which we remain mostly unaware: suchness—things as they are cleansed of these filters. This term, suchness is not your everyday term, but mystics have used it across the ages to articulate a state of seeing that bypassed, or transcended bias. The Buddha used this term, and he considered it to be essential to awakening to the true nature of reality as being non-dual. To mystics, all things have a foundation in pure, uncontaminated awareness: a state of elementary or undifferentiated consciousness, which came to be known as Buddha-nature (sentience). And sentience means reflexive, mirror-like awareness, a state of consciousness prior to perception or thought. In essence, sentience=emptiness; there is nothing present in elementary or undifferentiated consciousness, just as there is nothing in a mirror until an image appears before it. 

The mirror doesn’t move, but what appears in the mirror comes and goes. The reflected images are transient. Perception plus bias produces abstraction, clouding things as they are.  At that very instant, the universe appears as dualistic: there is what is perceived and one perceiving—a false self that is imagined as the seer seeing objective things. This state of sentience is thus an indefinable subject: who we are truly, prior to any cognitive processes. Thoughts are abstractions: illusions. The Buddha called these illusions “dreams,” and said that he had awakened from the dreams and experienced sentience. He thus referred to himself as the Tathāgata: the Sanskrit name that means beyond all coming and going–beyond all transitory phenomena/objective forms. 

Consequently, he recognized that every conceivable perceptible form or subsequent idea was grounded in sentience, which has no beginning, ending, or limitation of any kind. Sentience has no definable properties and, as such, is without conditions (thus unconditional)—exactly the same among all sentient beings. Therefore it is the ground-of-all-being, which is the place of non-discriminate unity.

What is transitory, however, are the perceptions and ideas that appear before our empty faculty, and consequently, The Buddha said there is no difference between form and emptiness; they are one and the same. Without sentience there could be no perception at all and consequently these two: perceptible forms and empty sentience dependently originate each other. All things emanate from that empty source. The images look real, but they are just transitory phenomenal images. Since we remain unaware of our true source, the only reality we can grasp is transitory images, to which we cling, and by which we define ourselves. Since the images are here one moment and gone the next, our sense of self/ego rides the waves of suffering and bliss.

The bird in your hand is the true doctor.

The true doctor.

It is our nature to esteem credentials, accolades, and titles. More times than not you’ll rely on the opinion of a doctor over that of an uneducated man, because the assumption is that a man of letters has earned his stripes and is better educated (e.g., he knows more). 

Mark Twain once said: “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.”  There’s a lot of subtle wisdom inherent in that statement. Once I had a friend who was studying for her Ph.D., and she asked me, “What do you call a person in the doctorate program who graduates last in the class?” I thought about what that might be and then she told me the answer: Doctor.

Unfortunately, our system of education is lacking. The emphasis is on rational analysis and communications (e.g., reading, writing, number-crunching, critical thinking, and rationality). All of that is fine, but it doesn’t train our trans-rational capacities: the wellspring of all thought and non-thought. Consequently, we have become a very rational, stressed out, fear oriented violent species. We can, and do, justify the most egregious behavior possible and then feel righteous about our words and actions, never realizing we are shooting ourselves in the foot.

Has that disparity ever crossed your mind? It is a puzzle, but shouldn’t be. The problem is simple (yet profound). The problem is, as expressed in the contemporary vernacular: We are not cooking on all cylinders. Translation⎯We’re out of balance and living in a dream world. We are rational, but lacking wisdom. Being educated does not necessarily make us wise, and without wisdom, rational thought, only, leads us all astray and into the conflict between the opposite quagmires of right vs. wrong.

One of the foremost examples of a wise yet uneducated man was the sixth patriarch of Chan (Chinese Zen). Huineng was born into the Lu family in 638 C.E. in Xinzhou (present-day Xinxing County) in Guangdong province, and since his father died when he was young, his family was poor. As a consequence, Huineng had no opportunity to learn to read or write and is said to have remained illiterate his entire life. Nevertheless, Huineng is recognized as one of the wisest Rinzai Zen masters of all time.

That’s the first point. The second is misleading labels. If The Buddha were born into today’s world, he would undoubtedly be called “doctor” (appropriately so). He was, and remains, the most profound doctor of the mind of any time or place. The sort of doctor he would most closely approximate today would be “psychiatrist.” However, modern psychiatrists function within a presumed sphere of science, meaning measurable matter, despite the truth that the true mind can’t be found, much less be measured.

Some years ago, I read a book by neuropsychologist/philosopher Paul Broks. The book was titled, Into the Silent Land. In probing the layers of human physiology and psychology, Broks leads us through a haunting journey. It is hard not to be stunned by reading his dissecting view of what it means to be human. We take so many things for granted. That, which is inanimate “meat,” animates with consciousness, cognition, imagination, feelings, and every other aspect of our condition, and seems to float by as a given. This fundamental mystery is so ingrained into our being that it goes unnoticed, but not by Broks.

He asks alarming and provocative questions such as “Am I out there, or in here?” when he portrays an imaginary man with a transparent skull, watching in a mirror his own brain functioning. He notices, for us all, that the world exists inside the tissue residing between our ears. And when the tissue is carefully examined, no world, no mind, no ego, no self, no soul, no perceptual capacities, nor consciousness—nothing but inanimate meat is found. Unable to locate, what we all take for granted, he suggests that we are neither “in here” nor “out there;” maybe somewhere in the space between the in and the out, and maybe nowhere at all.

Indeed, as so many mystics and seers have noted: The true mind can’t be found, and none of us can study what is beyond measuring and defining. Nevertheless, it is the true mind (which can’t be found) that is the foundation upon which everything is based⎯the source of wisdom, harmony, and the lack of stress. Speaking from intimate personal experience, I can state without equivocation that once you experience your true Self-nature your world will turn over.  And why would that be? Because stress is the result of craving what you have already. Nothing is more frustrating than trying to obtain what lies ever within your hand. So long as we believe we don’t have what we need, we will forever remain anxious, frustrated, disappointed, ill, and full of stress. And that makes us all sick, not to mention very, very tired.

Emptiness ain’t empty. Fullness ain’t full.

Anything in here?

We, Westerners, are severely short-changed. In the past, we were ignorant of Eastern wisdom due to distances that took weeks, if not years, to traverse. That is no longer an excuse since, in less than the time of this writing, communications can zip around the world several times. Or, if you like, put the dilemma in the words of Mark Twain: “A lie can travel halfway round the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.”

So what’s our excuse? Arrogance? Close-mindedness? Your guess, but for whatever reason, we do need to do a better job. Our lives depend on doing better. With just a few realignments, we could improve upon the situation. Notions such as emptiness and interdependence could make things vastly better.

And a good place to start is by bridging the gap with a fundamental grasp of some words and concepts—for example, the word Sūtra. We have no problem in grasping the word scripture, since, by and large, our culture has been shaped by Western civilization, the Bible, and either Christianity or Judaism. But a Sūtra comes from the East, and we get a bit hung up with foreign words, but it isn’t that hard if we cared.

A Sūtra is a rule or aphorism, mostly in the Sanskrit literature (from India), and Sanskrit is an ancient language, no longer used, just as Koine Greek (the language of the New Testament) is no longer used. There are hundreds of Sūtras, without an accepted grouping such as a canon. Some are short (as short as 300 lines) while others are composite collections of Sūtras, under a shared roof. Examples are the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, or the Mahāratnakūṭa, which contains 49 sūtras of various lengths. Maybe the longest (and my favorite) is The Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra.

Short, or long, they are all crammed full of wisdom. And the one claimed as the standard-bearer for the perfection of wisdom is the Heart Sūtra (short for Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya—The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom). So why is that one considered sublime? Because it boils down the essence of Eastern wisdom into a short package on emptiness. In Sanskrit, Śūnyatā refers to the tenet that all things are empty of intrinsic existence and nature, but may also refer to the reality that all sentient beings share a common, indiscriminate nature called “Buddha-nature” or primordial awareness. 

In essence, at the core of us all is a primordial, un-awakened nature (a sleeping giant if you will). And right off the bat, we have a vast cultural disconnect. This, at first anyway, is a mind-blower (literally). The teaching means that there is absolutely nothing that has an intrinsic, independent, stand-alone nature. All things are thus empty. They are instead interdependent—one thing dependent upon the opposite. That is one half. The other half is that emptiness is itself empty. It, too, is interdependent. But the question is, with what is it dependent? 

Before I address the last half, let’s look at the first half and the profound implication. An example is up and down. Neither up nor down can be understood (much less exist) without the other. In an indivisible flash of time, when up comes into existence, so does the opposite of down, and just as fast, they disappear as pairs. So what? You might say. Why is that such a big deal? Simple, (yet not self-evident). It is profound when we realize this example pertains to all things. There is no “absolute right” without an “absolute wrong.” No “goodness” without “evil.” All things have an opposite dimension that defines it. And the implication? Self-righteousness stops being an absolute, and so does bigotry or any other matter of maleficence. And that alone is wise understanding.

Now the second half: Emptiness is not empty. The absence of things (e.g., “nothing” or “no-thing”) is just as glued to the opposite as anything else. “Everything” is interdependent with “Nothing.” In truth, you, I, and every one of us is (internally and externally) empty of an intrinsic self-nature that is uniquely and distinctly “me.” The “me” we think we are is not “me.” It is “us.” You and I are identical at the core. At that level of consciousness, we are unconditional (even though the outside is conditional). Externally, we are, of course, distinct, unique, and different, but not at the core. The external can be perceived. The internal cannot. Our inner core is “un-awakened” until we come to our senses, but our outside cloak is asleep (but thinks it is awake). At that level of primordial existence we are self-aware, but not in a perceptible way. Our awareness, at the core, is invisible—like Harry Potter’s cloak. The thing of it is, the unseen part of us all is the part that is doing the seeing. And what that aspect of us sees, is incapable of being seen. That internal eye cannot see nothing. It can only see something. And the something we see is, of course, different from what we see in others.

That is both a problem and an opportunity, at the same time. Why? Because of the unreal (yet perceptible “I”—ego) is proud, arrogant, and self-absorbed. It must play to a loving audience, all of the time, to feel worthwhile. That part hates with a passion (just as strongly as it adores a loving audience) criticism and questioning. That is the problem. The opportunity is to “awaken” to what lies beneath the image-of-self (ego) to the part that can’t be seen. The outside, perceptible, the non-full ego, is interdependent with an opposite imperceptible, full, true self—the sleeping giant, which is otherwise called “Buddha-nature.” 

We are, in the most real and profound way, sleeping Buddhas. And we will remain asleep until the false self (ego) steps aside. But that is a near-impossible scenario. It is like asking a blind man to tell you what he sees. The ego firmly believes there are no eyes, except his own, and believe me, beauty is in the eye of the beholder with the ego looking through rose-colored glasses. Or looking into a mirror and asking, “who’s the fairest one of all?” The mirror doesn’t want to get smashed, so the mirror lies and thereby strokes the deluded ego. So what’s the answer? 

Time and indisputable evidence that being a monster is a failed proposition. Eventually, an egomaniac screws up (and gets terrible press) so many times that it becomes obvious even to a doormat. The truth will out; eventually. But there may be lots of damage done along the way, to others and finally one’s self. Remember Adolf?

The bottom line here is simple (yet requires some solid thinking, employing a few fundamental principles that can’t be refuted). We are perfect, united, joined at the hip indiscriminate, at the core, yet living inside a shell with opposite characteristics—imperfect, disconnected, and very, very discriminating: Needing to put others down so we can feel up. 

Sound like anyone you know? Emptiness ain’t empty. Fullness ain’t full.

Flowers in the sky of mind.

What dies, and what doesn't.

I’d like to tell you a story I call “Cleansing bubbles” about my own transformation.

One of life’s most enduring themes has been to find ourselves. The quest begins early, reaches a peak during adolescence and tails off afterward, largely because of frustration. Defining our identities is thus a universal pursuit that rarely culminates in anything real. If it reaches a conclusion, at all, it travels down the road of ego construction and maintenance. 

More times than not, nothing beyond ever occurs and we process what we think of ourselves in terms of how others see us, from moment to endless ever-changing moment. One moment a good self-image; the next a bad one. Our sense of who we are dances on the end of a tether like a boat anchored in a turbulent sea. Rather than finding our true, united nature, the quest is driven to enhance our differences. 

In the words Aśvaghoṣa: “In the all-conserving mind (âlaya-vijñâna) ignorance obtains; and from the non-enlightenment starts that which sees, that which represents, that which apprehends an objective world, and that which constantly particularises. This is called the ego (manas).” 

But as we shall see, there are two ends of this stick: one end that is emerging and the other end the seed from which the ego grows. In contemporary terminology, we lust for individuating ourselves at the expense of uniting ourselves. That universal quest to find ourselves is a dance of inside-the box futility. From beginning to end this entire process is flawed and based on a moving target dependent upon changing circumstances. All of life is changing and within change, there is no stability, except in the realm of stillness we call the soul—the hidden spirit awaiting discovery.

The quest was of particular importance to me since I never knew my father. The man I thought was my father was a sadistic beast who took pleasure in beating me, laughing all the while. The result on my psyche was devastating and hammered home the final nail in the coffin on my sense of self-worth when mixed with a broken love-affair during my young adult life, and the horrors of two years as a combat Marine fighting in Vietnam to survive by killing innocent people. 

I was 48 years of age, suicidal and a complete mess when I fled to a Zen monastery. By that time the seeds of disaster, planted in my subconscious had grown and flourished into plants of misery. Had it not been for the loving kindness and guidance of the Rōshi of the monastery I would be long gone and not writing these words. Because of him, I found myself—not the phony one that dances on a string of dependency, but the real one that never changes.

There is no limit to what I didn’t know when I first began my journey to self awareness. I was naïve and uneducated in the ways of Zen. I didn’t understand Japanese. I hadn’t yet read the significant sūtras. I didn’t even understand MU—the koan given me to transform my mental processes. But I did understand one simple metaphor given me by the Rōshi that turned the waters of my consciousness from the clouded filth of my imagination to clarity and self-realization.

I was told that while I was practicing Zazen to silently watch my thoughts, as bubbles arising out of the depths, into and through my conscious awareness and breaking on the surface of the water (e.g., thoughts becoming actualized phenomena—actions). I was to never attach myself to the bubbles but rather just watch and let them come, one after another, seeing the chains of causation seeping out of my encased memory, connecting, moment by moment my past with my present. And then to take the next step and realize what I was watching were old-movies of a dead past. That I did for months on end. I watched. I cried over the afflictions of my past, I endured the pain until one day there were no more bubbles; just clear water, the “movie” stopped and I was at peace. It was the practice of Zazen, that when conjoined with all that came before, shattered one part of me and introduced me to the better.

And then the dawn! What I could never see through the clouded waters of consciousness, I could see once the waters were clear. I was not the despicable person I had been led to believe. I was a never-changing, timeless soul—perfect at the core, encased in a broken body of ignorance. When I shared that experience with Rōshi during dokusan, the light of the sun shown through his face and he beamed, “welcome home.” It took me years beyond before I understood what he meant, but forever after that experience, the real me never bobbed again.

I am still encased in that broken vessel which is crumbling faster and faster as I age—and will remain that way until my shell is no longer, but I reached a point in my life when I felt compelled to do what I could to share the wealth of my realization.

Years later, I came upon a story told by The Buddha in the Tathāgatagarbha Sūtra. I share it to put flesh on the bones of my story: “‘Or perhaps, my friends, you can understand it like this: In a factory, statues of the Buddha are made by pouring liquid gold into moulds made of clay. In order to melt the gold into a liquid it has to be made so hot that the clay moulds become blackened and burnt. But when they have cooled down, the burnt, dirty moulds are broken and inside them the golden statues are revealed in all their beauty. In the same way, if we can break away our nasty feelings of greed and hatred we will find that underneath them, within us, we each have the hidden, perfect qualities of a Buddha, like pure shining gold.’

After finishing his explanations, The Buddha said to all the assembled holy men and women, ‘If you can learn to really understand this teaching, you will have understood one of the most important things that I saw when I became Enlightened, and you will see the way to perfect wisdom.’” 

That story is one of nine stories told to his followers near Rajagriha, in a great pavilion in the Sūtra. And rather than clay moulds becoming blackened and burnt, he saw upon his enlightenment a sky filled with beautiful lotus flowers which eventually wilted and died. But when they died a beautiful golden image of a Buddha meditating and radiating beams of light emerged out of the decay.

Like those flowers, “I” died that day (e.g., that broken, filthy jar-image of myself), and out of that broken vessel emerged the true me radiating from the depths of my soul, like light through the clear waters. Dying flowers; crumbling molds; bubbles arising from the depths of tragedy—Metaphors all, of equal magnitude. We are all so very different on the outside, yet at the core of our hearts and souls—where it really matters, we are the same; brothers and sisters bound forever together. If you can experience this transitional death of what doesn’t matter and the subsequent birth of what does, you will have entered into the timeless realm of purity, and you will feel “at home.”

The critical nature of genuine self awakening.

When contemplating the myriad problems of today’s world you might come up with a list such as the following:

• The COVID-19 pandemic

• The Middle East debacle

• Unchecked global climate change (warming)

• A growing gap between the ultra-wealthy and everyone else

• Spreading violence

• Hatred and intolerance

• Political gridlock

• Toxic pollution of the environment

• Loss of genuine liberties

• (add your own)

While all of these are problems of enormous concern, there is a core root that underlies and drives them all: a misidentification of who we are individually and collectively. So long as our answer to identity boils down to a vacillating self-image (ego) the natural result is fear, greed, possessiveness, selfishness, isolation, irresponsibility, despair, and a victim mentality that leaves us all heading for a cave of seeming security.

Recently Avram Noam Chomsky observed that “As long as the general population is passive, apathetic, diverted to consumerism, or hatred of the vulnerable, then the powerful can do as they please and those who survive will be left to contemplate the outcome.” While a grim statement that shocks us into states of denial and disbelief, his observations are true.

The question is, what must we all do in order to escape from this inevitable outcome? The answer is not the ostrich method of avoidance, denial, and ignorance. On the contrary what we must all do is transform our self-understanding, from an isolated individual to a connected member of the human race, which was (and remains) the solution to suffering offered by The Buddha more than 2,500 years ago. The solution does not change because the nature of being human does not change. 

At the central core of all of us is an indefinable state of unconditional consciousness that is the same for everyone. The problem is that while this state is the source of all aspects of awareness, itself is not detectable and we are all prone to consider real only things with conditions that can be detected. This is a case of the eye not being aware of the eye. However, in this case, it is the inner eye (URNA) instead of the detectable eye, and as the father of Zen wrote, it is in this state of mind that all discrimination ceases to exist. Out of this indiscriminate state arises sentient discrimination that leads us to the mistaken notion that each of is a dependent ego at odds with every other human, vacillating and contingent on an uncertain world and that “ego idea” then produces the undesirable qualities listed above.

In the recent past, a form of meditation (MBSR) has become prominent in helping many to cease attachment to waves of thinking, many of which are destructive to self and others. While very helpful, it only one of two dimensions outlined by The Buddha in his Eight Fold Path. MBSR rests upon one of these two: right mindfulness (Sanskrit: samyak-smṛti/sammā-sati) and is the essential path to a genuine awakening of our true, indiscriminate nature (who we truly are). The other dimension of mind (right concentration (Sanskrit: samyak-samādhi/sammā-samādhi) is not widely known, but by any other name is Zen/Dhyāna, with a history going back into an unrecorded time, long before The Buddha. 

The two disciplines were intended to be practiced as a combined pair but in today’s world, they have been split apart. MBSR has become quite useful in stilling the mind and helping practitioners to stay present instead of lost in speculation. However, the issue of identity remains an esoteric matter leaving those who practice MBSR only, still holding fast to a perceptible and insecure self-understanding. Importantly it is Zen that produces the desired result of a sense of SELF that is unconditional, whole, perfect, and unshaken. This quality alone delivers the awareness that we are all unified, none better; none diminished in any way. 

As awful as the laundry list of contemporary problems may be, those and unknown others will flourish unless we can experience this state of indiscriminate, undiscovered unity, inherent in us all. 

Defining characteristics.

Buddhism is known as a way of life characterized by wisdom and compassion. Two valid questions: Wise about what? And what is the basis of Buddhist compassion? Hopefully, we can be wise about many things, and the wiser we are the less trouble we create in the world, and that’s a good thing. But Buddhist wisdom is not broad-spread wisdom about everything but rather concerns being wise about the cornerstone of life: the rudder that guides our ship.

In a very real sense, life is a gamble. We can’t know the future so we roll the dice and bet on the outcome. And this quandary ordinarily concerns material prosperity. The presumption here is the more stuff we can accumulate the more fulfilled we will be.

Buddhist wisdom turns this proposition on its head, first by understanding that the fundamental nature of all matter is change: Here today means gone tomorrow and clinging to what is ephemeral creates suffering. The second dimension of Buddhist wisdom takes us to compassion. Why should we care about someone else? Isn’t it enough to take care of our own business? And in today’s world taking care of our own is becoming more and more difficult. However, there is nothing quite as persuasive in pointing out our mutual interdependence than a global pandemic with a virus that infects one and all alike.

The principle of independence seems to imply separation, and independence is the premise of individuality: Everyone doing his or her own thing. Again Buddhism turns this premise upside down by noting that everything is interdependent. In truth nothing can possibly be independent, in spite of our wishes. No one is an island. Covid-19 proves that with no doubt. Compassion is the bridge that spans the apparent gap separating us from one another.

Zen takes us to the ground level of this union. The source of our actions (how we relate to each other) is thought. And the source of thought is mind. These three are connected. Mind creates thought and thought creates action. At the deepest part of mind there is unity. There is no such thing as “my mind.” This “my” is an illusion of identity but it seems very real. Buddhism teaches that there is only one true mind (which is no mind) and it is here where unity exists.

The problem is that most people understand mind as their thoughts and emotions and these manifestations are unique and individual. By identifying with our thoughts and emotions we create separation, alienation and the corresponding attitude of me against the world. The result is greed, anger, and ignorance—the three mental poisons which are wreaking our world today.

True compassion arises from the base of true mind—where we are all one. And wisdom is the result. We become wise when we experience unity and realize that when we care for another we are literally caring for our self. And the flip side of this realization is the awareness that when we harm another we bring harm to our self.

The command by Jesus “…in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you...” is the same as the Buddhist prescription. If we wish to change our world from a factory, which produces greed, anger, and ignorance, the solution is that simple. What we put out comes back to us because at the deepest part of existence we are united. When we experience this unity our thoughts change from “me, me, me” to “us, us, us” and this shift results in an action of caring, both for our self and for others.

First posted in August 2011

The four faces of us all.

The distortions we imagine.

There is a Japanese saying: “We have three faces: The first face, we show to the world. The second face, we show to our family and friends. The third face, we never show anyone and it is the truest reflection of who we are.”

There is, however, another Zen koan: “Who were you before your parents were born?” which transcends the first saying and points to our “original face”—Who all of us are before the clothing of expectations or definitions are applied is this original face, without form or definition—the one that can’t be seen that is doing the seeing. Look at it this way: If there is a face that can be perceived it can’t be who we are since it takes both a perceptible image (what is seen) and one who sees. All of us are that imperceptible seer, not an image.

The first face we show the world because we believe it is the expected ideal. The second face is the one we risk showing, based on the assumption that we can relax with family and friends: still a risk, but one we accept. The third face, the one we never show, is the one we fear the most and holds the greatest risk of exposure, persuading us that if ever revealed will destroy us. All three are unreal projections, based on our criteria within us that we construct. None of these are real. Instead, they are based on the expectations we each hold as yardsticks against which we measure who we imagine we are as acceptable beings, worthy of love.

The only face that is real is the fourth: the one that can’t be seen. This face alone holds no criteria of acceptability since by nature it is wholeness itself: complete, indiscriminate, lovable beyond measure and understanding of all, because IT is all. 

Selling snowballs to Eskimos

There’s a fundamental law of economics: People will purchase things they feel they need. No perceived need=No demand=No sale. The entire economic engine begins with that fundamental understanding. The next principle that emerges from that one is that demand must be stimulated. People may actually have a need but are not aware of solutions. Or, no, actually, there is no need, but instead, there is a want. 

That’s where marketing and advertising come into play. As an ex-marketing man, I understand both of these building blocks, which are foundational to economic success. If I wanted to create a commercial success, it was first necessary to persuade someone that what they experienced as a want, was actually a need, and the best way to do that is by telling half-truths. 

I have never seen a successful marketing campaign that told the whole truth. Instead, marketing people dwell on the part, which appeals to people they wish to convert and intentionally avoid discussing the downside. The downside always comes along for the ride anyway, and often times that downside becomes apparent later, but by then, the sale has been made, and it’s too late to get your money back. There is no such thing as any product or service that is 100% good. In our ignorance, we are easily hoodwinked into being sold a bill of goods that looks to be without flaw.

I am no longer a marketing man. I am now a spiritual man. So what in the world does this have to do with spiritual matters? Simple: Snowballs. The most fundamental of all sales jobs is to persuade people that they are inadequate, in any and every way. If that can be done, then the rest is a piece of cake. What we believe about ourselves, fundamentally, lays the ground for everything that follows. If I think I am inadequate, then I will be open to making choices and buying things I don’t need but believe that I do. Nobody is going to be vulnerable and want to buy things when they are already adequate. That would be nuts. So the first task is to bring adequacy into question.

Fundamentally, that is what commercial life is all about: nothing more. Virtually from birth onwards to the grave, we are being sold a bill of goods about being inadequate. We are Eskimos with plenty of snowballs but are being duped into believing that we need more. If you want to put that into a spiritual context, try this on for size: “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.” 

That piece of wisdom comes from a very famous Zen Master (Hakuin Ekaku). If you prefer the same message from a Christian context, try the story of the Prodigal Son, who wandered away from his birthright of splendor and ate from the trough of pigs. And if you wonder how this might translate into the economic context of today’s world, click here and watch a humorous yet insightful summation of the challenges of our world today: The growing gap between the ultra-wealthy and the rest of us, international trade wars (for that matter, any war), an out-of-control Federal Debt, global climate change, massive world-wide immigration problems, restructuring the fabric of nations, the corruption of cherished values (such as telling the truth) and how our freedoms are compromised.

The half-truth of life is that we are inadequate. The whole truth is we are inadequate, and we are also adequate and complete already, at the same time. Both of these are true together. Neither is true alone. That’s the whole truth, and when we realize this whole truth, then only do we cease lusting for what we have already.

Right, wrong and the realm of harmony.

Two of the most prominent figures in the history of Zen were

Nagarjuna and Bodhidharma. Both had meaningful perspectives on the matter of discrimination—not the ordinary way of judgmental opposition, instead of the ability to discern differences. By itself, perceptual discrimination is unavoidable and without contention. The color white is discriminately different from the color red,  just as up is clearly the opposite from down. Seen in that way it is a matter of common sense to perceive differences.

However, when the matter of egoic judgment enters the arena, conflict is sure to arise. Calling someone egotistical is a sure-fire way of creating hostility, yet the vast majority of the human race functions in a way to protect their egoic views, without the awareness that most all of the time, hardened views are rooted in the soil of their egos, where defending their views is the same as defending their sense of self. None of us can possibly perceive anything in the same way. We are all looking through lenses of our histories, experiences, personality traits, predispositions, hardened beliefs and mostly driven by a defensive ego, all convinced that their views alone are right at the expense of those who disagree. 

Our world would be a heaven on earth if setting aside our view that only our views are right. Everyone would then see things in the same way with peace, harmony, and joy reigning universally. It might be boring but it would bring harmony. I have never met anyone who pursued a path they were convinced was the wrong path. If they are not wedded to an intractable position to which they have taken claim (e.g., rooted in their egos), and remain open to the lessons life can teach, it is quite possible to learn that what seemed certain in the beginning can be transformed into a perspective contrary to what they initially thought. However, even with an enlightened perspective, the ego will resist the admission of error.

Nagarjuna, in the explication of The Buddha’s understanding of the Self, created what has since become known as “The Two Truth Doctrine,” which says that enlightenment begins by first becoming aware of the difference between ordinary truth (e.g., the realm of right vs. wrong) and sublime truth where unity prevails, but we are only freed from bondage by intuitively experiencing this sublime realm. Until that experience occurs, the process remains a fabrication of intellectual discernment: an idea. It is the “experience” of penetrating the constructed and defensive ego to find our essential Self that liberates the human mind from the bondage of “versus” and conflict.