Spooky reality.

It’s quite amazing how physics is catching up to, and blurring the lines, between the age-old enemies of science and philosophy. Three articles have recently been published in respected scientific papers. One titled, “Quantum chicken-or-egg experiment blurs the distinction between before and after,”  the second reported on the “Nobel Prize Awarded to Two Quantum Physicists,” and the third “The Quantum Theory That Peels Away the Mystery of Measurement” occurred just three days ago.

All three make note of the growing consensus within the physics community that what Einstein referred to as “spooky” can be explained by a principle known as quantum entanglement that allows quanta, perhaps many thousands of miles apart, to reflect a mystical connection that defies rational logic, where before and after are not sequential but rather simultaneously connected.

This chicken and egg, logical, conundrum was postulated, under a different name, nearly four millennia ago in India with the principle of “dependent origination”—Pratītyasamutpāda in Sanskrit.  It is a very simple principle to understand philosophically but, until now, made no logical sense. But then neither did the chicken and egg puzzle. 

At the simplest of philosophical levels, consider “up” and “down,” neither of which can exist without the other. When up arises, down arises simultaneously. When one disappears, the other disappears simultaneously. So too a mother and a child (e.g., chicken and egg). A mother can’t possibly be a mother until the instance of birth since that is how we understand the difference between a mother and a non-mother woman. Before that point of creation, a woman was not yet a mother.

The philosophy takes this a step further (as physics may one day) by pointing out that the nature of one thing is conjoined with another of a completely opposite nature; thus conditional and unconditional. Conditions (the realm of physics) are constantly in motion, even at the quantum level, whereas the unconditional (the realm of metaphysic) never changes, and just like chickens and eggs, one can’t exist without the other. Before the big bang, there was nothing, yet out of Singularity came everything—total opposites.

There are broad and meaningful implications to the latter philosophical observation, concerning the survival of the human race. And these implications takes us into human self-understanding that could save our collective behinds, but only by opening the door and embracing this new/old notion of universal connectivity: We are all different, yet exactly the same, simultaneously. Spooky! Yet not.

Bringing it home.

Initial dawning and ripple effects.

For those who may think Zen has no practical impact on their lives, guess again. 

How so? In spite of ignorance concerning this amazing practice, Zen is not a religion. Instead, it is, perhaps, the only means available for unveiling our deepest nature and becoming aware that nobody is who they think they are; good, bad, or in-between.

The Buddha’s “diagnosis” for unveiling this true nature was/is like a stone dropped into the water. Initially, there is only the penetration but then the ripple effects just keep on expanding like waves rolling outward from the source. His Four Noble Truths lay out the sickness and his Eight Fold Path reveals the remedy. And central to that remedy is what we now call Zen, but was then known as Dhyāna—absorption, so deep and intense that the imagined “you” simply (well not so simply) vanishes and the real “you” emerges, which in naked-relief is not a “you.” Instead, it is seen for what it is as “unity” with the rest of humanity (not to mention other sentient forms).

Why is this so critical and eternally important to all sentient beings? Because it eradicates that imagined self-image and replaces it with who/what we all are, and that removes all human conflicts. So, as in my own case, that self-image was one of hatred of myself. Importantly any image (the self included) is not real. It is only imagined, as all images are. We would never delude ourselves that moving images we see on our TV are real, but we make that error all of the time with ourselves. Living with a sense of self-hatred is poisonous and nearly led me to commit suicide. 

At the other end of this ego spectrum lies the delusion of superiority. It was Eckhart who said that humanity in the poorest state is considered by God equal to an emperor or Pope.  Any and all aspects of self-delusion (e.g., good, bad or in between) hides our genuine connection with the rest of humanity.

Attachment of every kind leaves one vulnerable to suffering when the object of attachment dies, which all conditional phenomena eventually do. That part of attachment is clearer than when the object of attachment is ourselves. You’d think that wouldn’t be a problem since when we die we won’t experience anything, suffering included. How could we? We’re already dead and imagine we don’t suffer at all. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I can’t say for sure what we experience when we die (although there is an explanation) but I can say for sure how I suffered, thinking all the while I was a terrible person who deserved only one thing: To die. Until that bubble broke I was moving toward the brink of suicide. I am not aware of any other method for accomplishing this eradication of the unreal and unveiling the real at the same time. I certainly don’t know everything and maybe there is another method but if so such a method is “the best-kept secret” of all space/time. If that isn’t practical I can’t imagine what is.

The way we think.

Now that the Buddhist conception of the mind has been thoroughly delineated we turn our attention to something we do continuously and determines the nature of our world—what the mind produces: thoughts. 

Given the critical nature of thinking, it’s imperative to properly grasp what thinking is all about and how thinking (properly understood) leads us all to our true nature or perpetuates misery. So let’s take a stroll together down the reality road and examine the goal of seeing things as they are, without distortion or delusions. For our stroll, we need to begin with an agreement—to remove customary lenses, with which we are habitually comfortable. For the duration of our stroll, we make a pledge to set aside all preconceived views and be open to a new way of seeing.

First, let’s describe the terrain in Buddhist terms. What we are going to see in our minds-eye must be considered from within the framework of how Buddhists define reality, and once we establish this framework we’ll accept this definition until the end of our stroll. Following our stroll you may, if you wish, return to your ordinary way of looking at life. And in taking our stroll we will use an analytical tool called dependent origination (in Sanskrit, Pratītyasamutpāda) to pin together logic of a special kind.

Buddhists don’t accept the notion that conditional things exist separate and apart from an unconditional basis. To imagine that they do exist in such a manner is considered a delusion. All conditional things are dual in nature; they are clearly mutually discrete. That said, conditional duality exists within a non-dual, unconditional framework—the ground of all being. Neither conditional nor unconditional aspects have any independent reality. They are glued together, irrevocably. 

This beginning premise has vast repercussions. The correct view is that nothing has an independent nature which is exclusive and uncaused. Another way of saying this is that things arise together—are originated interdependently and are caused by other things or events. Thus a thinker only has meaning in terms of what a thinker produces (thoughts) and the converse—thoughts require one who thinks. Thoughts have no independent nature and neither do thinkers. These two arise together simultaneously. Thoughts are causally linked to perceptions, which in turn are causally linked to consciousness. Without consciousness, there would be no perceptions, without perceptions, there would be no thoughts and without thoughts, a thinker could not exist.

But words are devices which themselves have no independent nature. They too arise together with one who writes, speaks or hears. Words are mere devices used to extract and communicate about something. All of the words you are now reading only exist in your mind where they will bear the fruit of imagination. They are not the something itself. Words are reflections or abstractions which join my mind with your mind. Words have no intrinsic self-nature. They too are causally linked to thoughts. Instead of using a word like “thinker” we could easily substitute another name like “subject” and instead of using a name like “thoughts” we could substitute another name like “objects.” 

The relationship between thinker/thoughts is the same as between an ineffable subject and a perceptible object, the point is that it takes a subject to perceive an object just as it takes a thinker to perceive thoughts, and perception depends upon consciousness.

So we could then say that since one-half of these relationships (e.g., thinker apart from thoughts, or subject apart from object) is an impossibility, that such a split is “empty” of independent existence. It would be nonsensical to speak of a thinker without thoughts and in the same way, it would be nonsensical to speak of a subject without an object. None of these halves possess a self-nature except conceptually. And all of the foregoing pertains to our stroll down reality lane. Why? Because such conceptual distinctions are not real, only imagined.

This manner of speaking has a name. It is called dependent origination and occurs within the conditional realm, which itself has no self-nature. Just as a thinker has no meaning without thoughts, conditional reality has no meaning without unconditional reality. Everything is subject to this interdependent framework.

So given this, what would happen if we did away with one of these sides? For example, let’s say that we did away with thoughts. If that happened, by definition, the thinker should cease to exist. But wait a moment. Where does this relationship of thinker/thoughts exist, except in our minds? Outside of mind, there are no thoughts and therefore no thinkers. Both thinkers and thoughts are manifestations of mind and mind exists within our bodies. So if we stop thinking (and the thinker disappears) what does that suggest about our identity? 

Is it possible for us to disappear when thinking/thoughts disappear? Obviously not. So it is clear that the real us can’t be the thinker, otherwise, we would disappear when thoughts cease, which is the whole point. In fact, this non-thinking entity is how Bodhidharma defined Zen: Not thinking about anything is Zen, and that is who we truly are: A non-thinking ineffable entity that thinks thoughts, or no-thoughts. Sounds strange but when we cease conceptual thought what we are left with is The One Reality: Our True Nature.

So obviously the real us is independent of this thinker/thought arrangement. But if so, then this real us must exist outside the framework of conditional existence since a thinker/thought arrangement is a condition. Where does this stroll then lead us? It leads us into the unconditional realm which is known as the realm of the tathagatakaya (body of the Buddha Lankavatara Sutra) and accessed when we leave conceptual thinking behind...beyond thought and non-thought. 

To explain: The idea of thought is a thought. The idea of a non-thought is a thought about not-thinking. Both are thoughts and all thoughts are ideas about something but not the something which is thought about.

Why does this matter? It matters because when we become attached to what we perceive and think, and empower these images with notions (other thoughts) as being real we are subject to clinging to ephemeral and fleeting phantoms which produce suffering. Both things (and particularly thoughts about things) are fleeting. But the distinction between things and thoughts about things, is that things are just things (neither good nor bad—just what they are—suchness) but thoughts about things become judgments of good and bad. We like the good things (and try to grasp and retain them) and dislike the bad things (and try to resist them). Both grasping and resisting are forms of attachment to fleeting existence and attachment causes suffering.

Now let’s shift gears somewhat and come at this from a different perspective by thoroughly considering what is meant by unconditional. The obvious starting point is to understand that something which is unconditional is not dependent upon anything for existence. Anything would include (but not be limited by) time, space, circumstances, birth, death, form, emptiness—everything and nothing. Unconditional means transcendent to all conditions. No beginning, no ending, no circumstances, no form, no right or wrong. Every aspect or defining characteristic would have no place in a realm of unconditional reality, yet unconditional reality must be said to be empty of intrinsic existence since it is a form of complete emptiness and depends (yet it doesn’t depend) upon conditions through dependent origination. 

Unconditional reality is a profound enigma. For it to exist, conditional reality must exist, but in itself, it is dependent upon nothing. Thus it is said to exist and yet not exist. It neither has a self (intrinsic, independent nature) yet it does. In Buddhist cosmology this unconditional realm is know as Tathagatagarbha which means Buddha Womb/Buddha Matrix and is explained by The Buddha in the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra to refer to the True Self or Essence of the Self within all sentient beings—the unconditioned, boundless, nurturing, sustaining, deathless and diamond-like Self of The Buddha, which is indiscernible to worldly, unawakened vision, as a result of conceptual obscurations (e.g., thoughts), inappropriate mental and behavioral tendencies and unclear perception.

Such a composite can only be understood as both conditioned and unconditioned, which means the unified source of both: an aspect with defining characteristics and an aspect without defining characteristic which arises simultaneously just as a thinker arises with thoughts. The aspects of Buddha-Nature with defining characteristics is the nirmanakaya—Buddhist vernacular for our physical being... (Incarnate Buddha) and the saṃbhogakāya—subtle body of the limitless form: link to the Dharmakaya. Both of these (e.g., nirmanakaya and sambhogakaya) are said to be subject to birth, death, and other conditions, yet Dharmakaya is subject to none.  The physical and psychic aspects of Buddha-Nature come and go. These aspects have form, but form and emptiness are a single riveted together matter. Form can’t exist without the context of emptiness. They arise together. An object (form) can only exist in space/time (emptiness). That form may be either physical or psychic. A thought is a psychic form—an abstraction, whereas physical forms appear to have substance and intrinsic/independent existence, but from a Buddhist point of view, not even physical form is real (meaning independent from emptiness).

From this point of view, all forms (physical and psychic) are manifestations of mind and lack intrinsic existence. The aspect which is without form is called the Dharmakaya (the true nature of the Buddha, which is identical with reality). This aspect can only be seen by a Buddha and those who have advanced to the highest state of consciousness since it is unconditional. What is conditional (anything with form) can’t see what is unconditional (emptiness—like space can’t be seen). 

This articulation is an attempt to understand the trikaya—the three aspects of Buddha-Nature. But this is a provisional attempt using form (words) to speak of something beyond all form so the attempt is flawed from the outset. As Lao Tzu stated, “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 nameless is the Dharmakaya or Mind-essence. In truth, these aspects are a single, indivisible reality but for convenience sake, we speak of them as separate. The Dharmakaya goes by many names. Often times the name One Mind is used. It is always present yet never found. The mind has no conditions nor limiting qualities yet is always present and functioning. 

Bodhidharma called it mind-essence which may be a better expression since essence has a connotation of infused transcendence. But names and handles are not important. What is important is the essence to which names and handles point; like a finger pointing to the moon. To transcend all names and thoughts (abstractions) and access directly what is, without condition is what tathagatakaya means. Tatha means thusness or suchness—things as they are in their fullness (both conditional and unconditional). Tathagata is an alternative name given a Buddha: one who sees things as they are without delusion

There is a story about the second Zen patriarch (Hui-k'o) who asked Bodhidharma to help him make his mind stop. Bodhidharma said, “Show me this mind of yours, and I’ll make it stop.” Hui-k'o responded, “I’ve looked everywhere for my mind but can’t find it.” Bodhidharma said, “There. I’ve stopped it for you.” The point is that mind/Dharmakaya is not to be found. The idea or thought of mind must be stopped to access Mind. When we look at objects (a thought is an object) we see just objects: the perceptible form; the abstraction, but we don’t see essence because it can’t be seen. 

The purity of mind is what sees, not the organs we call eyes. Objects are containers of the essence but not essence itself and our eyes see objective things (but not essence). Meister Eckhart (famous Christian mystic) made this same point in distinguishing ideas from essence.

Each of us exists in fullness. We are not just decaying form. Fullness includes the essential dimension of Buddha-Nature—the Dharmakaya. Without this, no form could exist (because of dependent origination). When this is understood we see that we are both transient and eternal. We are both subject to beginning/ending and we are not. We are both subject to suffering and we are not. We both have no self/intrinsic nature and we do. Both subject and object fuse into a single thing. SELF and self are different yet the same. We and all of nature are the great mystery of life.

So now, if you wish, return to your ordinary way of understanding. Our stroll is completed.

The chicken or the egg?

Which comes first?

A fellow seeker sent me a private message concerning the limitations of language. The person will remain incognito except to say they are from an East Indian culture and is therefore a Kalyanamitra (the Sanskrit word for spiritual friend).

To reply to their inquiry I’d like to explore the paradox of the chicken/egg. This paradox has confounded human intelligence since the first consideration. It seems obvious that one can’t come before the other but how we wonder, is it possible to solve this paradox? It is indeed a puzzle, known as a tangled hierarchy that arises when by moving in one direction we return to where we began. From a conditional perspective, there is no way to solve this puzzle since one of these (either the chicken or the egg) is contingent on the other. So long as we continue thinking in the cause and effect way, we remain in the trap of conditions. But how else can we think? So long as we are confined within the sphere of conditional reality there is no other way of thinking; one thing leads to what seems to follow but can’t.

The same sort of paradox applies to philosophy: A pathway to follow that will lead us to the assumed desired end. The issue that turns both of these upside down is the limitation of reality that is constrained purely within the bounds of conditions or said another way, within the constraints of dependencies or contingencies. And why should we accept these constraints?

The interdependent nature of conditional life points clearly to contingencies and conditional dependencies, at least that part of life that appears. But the more central issue is this business of appearances. Is it possible that appearances are likewise contingent upon non-appearances? Rational logic confirms that only at the moment of conception, both a mother and a child come into being. How is it possible for a woman to be a mother without a child? And how can a child exist without a mother? Such things are obvious but what is not obvious is the relationship between appearances and non-appearances.

If we can substitute equivalences we might make some headway in grasping this seeming conundrum. In the study of mathematics, we are taught that things that are equal, are likewise equal to other things that are equal. Thus if A=B and B=C, then A equals C as well. So let’s give this a shot: Let’s call “appearances” conditional and “non-appearances” unconditional. Now we have the material for some spiritual math. The law of dependent origination says that nothing exists independently. Instead, things arise together (and are only understood) given a contextual framework. Thus the color black can only exist and be understood given the contextual framework of non-black and this understanding helps us to solve the chicken/egg, appearance/non-appearance problem.

The Buddha, and later Nāgārjuna, correctly stated that neither essence nor non-essence exists independently. So what does this have to do with the conditional and unconditional paradox? Actually, it is not so difficult to grasp so long as we accept the rule of dependent origination because that rule says that neither conditional reality nor unconditional reality can possibly exist as independent matters. We can’t of course detect anything unconditionally, since by definition conditions rely upon other conditions to be detected.

All conditional matters are detectable and we call such matters measurable dimensions of form. But what about the opposite of form: No-form? Can any form exist without an opposite? The Buddha said no. In fact, he said that form is the same thing as Śūnyatā (emptiness). In the Heart of Perfect Wisdom Sutra, the  Buddha said, “Form is emptiness. Emptiness is form.” 

Now lets’ return to the equivalency arrangement. Which comes first: a pathway (philosophy) that leads to an end? Or an end that leads to a philosophy (e.g., a sort of reverse engineering)? As a side note, this is somewhat like the politician who notices where his constituency is going and rushes to the head of the line to proclaim leadership. Suppose that the end and the beginnings are one and the same thing? Suppose that at the level of unconditional reality there is no difference between a beginning and an ending?

How can there be such a difference since detectable differences require other detectable differences (or so it appears)? But appearances aside, conditional reality and unconditional reality arise together and the unconditional dimension of every sentient being lies at the heart of us all. It is that dimension that lures each and every one of us away from attachment to material matters that seem to define us. It is that very indefinable heart of wisdom and compassion that says to us all “is this material world all there is? Must I become content with this despicable reliance on competition, alienation, hostility, and greed?” 

As good as any philosophy might be, it can never touch that undetectable heart. For any philosophy to be of ultimate worth it must begin following the realization of our true, indefinable nature of perfection. Otherwise, the path will lead us back to where it all begins (yet never begins, or ends) and then we will realize there is no path to lead us to where we are already and have never moved away from. My Kalyanamitra asked a question for which there is no acceptable conditional answer and to even attempt such an answer would be disingenuous. Perhaps if they can grasp the significance of this reply, which moves the discussion beyond the realm of conditions, they will look at the question in a more enlightened way.

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.

Balance

Probably everyone who has ever lived has been taught what appears to be so—that life and death are separate. This seems to be the beginning and the end of the matter.

Throughout life, we experience half of things and go unaware of the other half. We experience good vs. evil, up vs. down, left vs. right, form vs. emptiness, samsara vs. nirvana: Anything and everything seems to be one thing as opposed to another. It is always the “versus” rather than the unified integration of opposites. This implicit teaching (either formal or not) is a reflection of what appears before our eyes. How could opposites be present together? 

 In the Śūrańgama Sūtra, The Buddha shares a vision with Ananda. He takes a scarf, and, grasping opposite ends, he ties a knot. He repeatedly repeats the knot tying until he has all six knots tied one on top of the other. What began as a single unified piece of cloth with two opposites ends is now knotted together. He then asks Ananda: “How should I untie these knots? Should I grasp only one end or the other and pull?” 

Ananda answers correctly, “No. The knots must be untied one at a time by grasping both halves of each knot and pulling.” This simple illustration reveals a profound truth. The six knots represent our six sensory faculties (e.g., eyes, ears, nose, tongue, touch, mind). Each of these six is programmed to function in a particular fashion, and this function comprises the aggregate of delusion. Eyes naturally respond to objects of form. Ears naturally respond to objects of sound, so on and so forth. Each of our sensory faculties responds to particular objects. Because of this, we are pulled astray, firmly convinced that life is nothing more than the aggregation of objects. 

The Buddha tells Ananda, “Until your six faculties merge and become interchangeable, you will never be able to put an end to your deluded mental acts.” How are we to understand this? At the source—the well-spring from which all arises, there is only unity. Here all six faculties merge and become as one. There are neither subjects nor objects. At this place of integration, which is the place of natural enlightenment, there are no “versus.” 

Discrimination arises from this place just as seeds grow from the earth, but there are everything and nothing in the earth itself. Due to the false conclusions necessitated by the six knots of perception that the five, seemingly discrete, aggregates arise. Form seems like a discrete matter. Perception seems like a discrete matter; cognition, mental formations, and consciousness likewise—all five have the appearance of mutual discretion. But this is a delusion. Form is not separate and opposed to emptiness. Contact and separation are the defining characteristics of the aggregate of sense-perception. 

What is recorded in memory (or not) is the defining attributes of cognition. And entering into the state of deep clarity and being stored in that clarity constitutes the aggregate of consciousness. Because objects appear before us, we accept them as the components which constitute our lives. We accept what appears and are unaware of what is the substrate of appearances. Both manifestation and source are happening continuously, yet we see only the manifestations, and in ignorance, conclude “versus.” In truth, manifestation and source are a single, unified scarf with knots. Life is death. These, and everything else, are interdependently joined together. Moment by moment, we breathe in life and exhale death. Our biology is continuously being regenerated, but it happens so that we are unaware until years later we look in the mirror and see a person we don’t recognize! Who is that old person? And where did the young one go? The rhythm of life/death is continuous and interdependent. And at heart, the real person is ageless and timeless and watches in amazement.

The Second Step

Nothing in return.

The second step along the Eight-fold Path is Right Intentions. The principle of selflessness among religious traditions is universal but has special significance within Buddhism, given the central focus on the non-self/Self paradigm arising from interdependent origination. Throughout Buddhist sutras, there is a continuous thread contrasting manifestations of the ego with acts of charity arising from the purity of unobstructed manifestations from the Self/Buddha-Nature.

Defilements, delusions, and obscurations are seen as impediments to charity's free-flow. It is one thing to imagine doing good works from a moral correctness perspective. It is a very different thing to act in charity through interdependence. Love is not what you say. Love is what you do. It is the ego’s nature to talk a good deal but not follow through unconditionally. One functions as the “keeper” of one’s brother in the first case. In the second case, one functions “as one’s brother.” The ego takes great pride in performing for the crowd and expects a responsive reward. A purely selfless act has a built-in reward. There is no genuine love when emanating from the ego. I discovered the following (anonymous), which sums this up nicely: 

“When you give and expect a return, that’s an investment. But when you give and expect nothing in return, that’s pure, unattached love.”

The difference between these two views was expressed by the eighth-century Buddhist monk Shantideva, author of A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life—a nine-hundred-verse poem credited to Nagarjuna. He said:

“When I act for the sake of others,

No amazement or conceit arises.

Just like feeding myself,

I hope for nothing in return.”

This view was echoed by the Golden Rule spoken by Jesus in the 7th chapter of Matthew, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you...” The distinction lies in the perspective that there is a difference between oneself and others, disputed in Buddhism.

When Bodhidharma went from India to China, Emperor Liang was welcomed. The emperor asked him, “What merit have I gained since I built so many temples, erected so many pagodas, made so many offerings to Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, and did numerous other virtuous deeds?” 

Bodhidharma’s reply greatly disappointed Emperor Liang. Bodhidharma said, “Your Majesty, there is none whatsoever. You have gained no merit. What you have done produces only worldly rewards, that is, good fortune, great power, or great wealth in your future lives, but you will still be wandering around in samsara.”

On the other side of the world, another such teaching was established—“Be careful not to do your ‘acts of righteousness’ before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” 

This second teaching was conveyed by Jesus and is found in the 6th chapter of Matthew. The message is the same—True charity is selfless. On the other hand, phony charity expects a return or some gain to accrue from works, and this is a subtle form of attachment linking action with results that keeps the giver locked in the vise of karma, which, like everything else, has no intrinsic nature. 

It, too, must link to action, and action, in turn, is linked to one who acts. When there is no “one/self,” nor “other/self,” action has no meaning, thus no karma. A Buddha has no self and is thus free from all karmic attachments, in which case selfless charity becomes a completely pure expression of giving and receiving. At the level of our True Nature, we are all Buddhas.