Nirvāna

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YOU

Thinkers think thoughts.

Thoughts produce thinkers.

Thoughts are about things.

Non-things are not thoughts.

Thoughts are not things.

Both thoughts and thinkers are unreal.

Non-things are not unreal.

Abstractions are thoughts about what’s real.

You are not an abstraction.

You are a real non-thing.

Thoughts about you are not real.

What is real is not a thought.

You are real and not a thought.

When you think, abstractions appear.

When you stop thinking, you appear.

Think about this and you’ll be lost in thought.

Don’t think about this and you’re ready, for the next thought.

Journey thru Hell to Heaven

I didn’t grow up with any religious or spiritual inclinations at all. I didn’t have any desire to ponder what I considered un-useful speculations. It was only after I was 40 years of age, having traveled far, suffered much and stood at death’s door twice that I began to reach into the unreachable for a practical reason: I wanted to live but knew there was something very wrong with the way I had lived thus far.

At that juncture, I chose to leave “the world” behind and close myself off from one dimension and close myself into another, and my choice was Zen. I chose that path because it held out the hope that I could learn to get beyond the horrors I had experienced that dwelled in memories too egregious to live with. These horrors occupied my unending thoughts, and Zen was all about cleansing my mind by suspending thought. I lived in a Zen monastery for nine months, during which time I joined hands with Dante and walked through the bowels of the Hell I had created. When my journey came to an end, I had drained myself of the infinite swamp of corruption that dwelt in memory only and cleansed my heart and mind of contamination.

I discovered something very rare and special during that time: when all cognitive processes are gone, what remained was emptiness—the face of God. By the time I arrived at seminary, I had seen that face and knew that God was the source of everything. So I began to construct a new life blending thoughts with no thoughts: God in my heart and thoughts in my head.

Seminary was a most curious experience for me. Theology is all about words, thinking, and objectifying what I knew could never be adequately expressed in words. The study of theology was thus most frustrating as I grappled with fusing my ineffable experience with an abstraction of the same thing. It was a process that took me years beyond to assimilate the two with some continuous and substantial academic study. I found myself in constant conflict with people who wanted to do what I had rejected: fill their heads with words and abstractions of an experience I knew was a road to nowhere.

However, one of the most helpful of all words came from Zen Master Bassui Tokusho, who said: 

“One moment seeing your own mind is better than reading ten thousand volumes of scriptures and incantations a day for ten thousand years; these formal practices form only causal conditions for a day of blessings, but when those blessings are exhausted again, you suffer the pains of miserable forms of existence. A moment of meditational effort, however, because it leads eventually to enlightenment, becomes a cause for the attainment of buddhahood.”

Nevertheless, I realized that if I was ever going to be able to convey the experience I had been graced with I had to travel the path they had chosen. It took me 30 years more before I was ready. I suppose it was like a pianist who must practice until the music comes out of them naturally.

There was a message spoken by Jesus in the middle of the beatitudes that says, “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.” (Mat. 5:8) The passage is not well understood, but it spoke directly to me. I had to read that passage in Koine Greek: the language used to write the New Testament, to really grasp the essence of that statement and when I did I found the key that unlocked the bridge between Zen (the discipline transcendent to words) and Christianity (a religion of words). To Zen, words are reflections: illusions of matters too deep to grasp with our true mind—dreams that dance on hot pavement and create heat waves. To the ordinary Christian, the heat waves are all there is.

So what was the key contained in that passage (Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.)? First, it’s necessary to understand what the authors of the New Testament meant by the Greek word λόγος (Logos, the English translation for The Word). Unlike our contemporary understanding of concepts, λόγος meant the embodiment of meaning expressed abstractly of the ineffable: the very matter that bent my brain for years on end. What Jesus intended in that statement of purity was to cleanse our hearts of an admixture of thoughts, whether good or evil.

When Western man imagines heart, they think of the organ that pumps blood. But to the Greeks, the heart was the center of life. However, to people of Zen, there is no difference between the heart and the mind and was known first by the Chinese as “xin” and later by the Japanese as “shin,” and there is a profound statement in both Chinese Zen (Chan) and Japanese: “Mu shin, Shin.” The little “shin” means that admixture of thought that affects our hearts, whether good or evil. When the admixture is gone, then “Shin” arises: the face of God—that space of emptiness out of which emerges our true nature and everything else. Shin is the unity between our corporeal selves and the source of all, and these two, as it turns out, are really not two. They are the two bound together aspects of life (embodiment): one part limited and objective and the other part eternal. Shin IS the embodiment of God within this limited body, and when anyone experiences that fusion, the world is changed forever.

So now I stand between the two worlds of East and West, and my challenge is to fuse the two just as they were for me, and neither the East nor the West seems to have any interest in fusing with anything not like them.

One of the greatest mystical poets of all time is Rabindranath Tagore.  Sadly, while he lived, he was little known outside of the Calcutta area, and not known at all outside of India, but he captured the essence of my journey when he said,

“The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.” 

Toxicity and emotional septic systems.

When examined closely, there is a very curious correspondence between how a septic system works and different states of consciousness. More than likely city dwellers don’t know about septic systems since they’ve never lived in locals where city services aren’t provided. Neither did I until I moved to the country. 

So for these folks, a brief explanation is required. Let’s begin with what the word septic means. It is taken from the Greek that means “putrefaction” and has a couple of significant uses. Septic systems are located in the country where there are no city services to accommodate discharged waste from houses. This waste flows into a large tank that ideally contains adequate bacteria—microorganisms that break down biodegradable material in the absence of oxygen. The “cleansed” water then spills over and runs into a leach field in the yard where the liquids evaporate. So long as there are adequate bacteria in the main tank, all goes well. But when the quantity and quality of the bacteria are depleted or weakened, the solids don’t break down which then spill over, enter the leach field, backs up into the main tank, and over time the tank fills up with too much solid waste and the system fails.

Our consciousness system is quite similar to a septic system. Think of repressed traumatic stress as emotional shit that is suppressed into our subconscious. The “bacteria” that is supposed to bleed off this build up are stress-reducing activities. Among the most valuable forms are breathing exercises, meditation (particularly Zen), guided imagery, exercise, progressive muscle relaxation, yoga and odd as it may seem: sex (which releases a hormone called oxytocin that acts primarily as a neuromodulator in the brain). 

Unless these activities become integrated into our every-day routines the emotional shit builds up, bleeds into our conscious state and gums up the works, just as occurs in a septic system where bacteria is compromised. The unfortunate result is a limited ability to handle minor, ordinary stress and this becomes a downward spiral that can end badly.

People who become gummed up with infection can, and do, die from septic shock. The death rate for those so infected is between 25-50% and results from a compromised immune system. Diseases such as peptic ulcers, cardiovascular disorders, migraines, and hypertension have been associated with persistent distress, with medical care professionals estimating that nearly 70% of doctor visits are directly related to ongoing stress. 

Septic shock (as well as these other consequences) is a serious condition that is indirectly related to accumulating stress. How that occurs works like this: Stress is an everyday experience that suppresses our immune systems. Why does stress buildup occur? Often times, in attempting to get on with necessary functioning, victims of trauma, suppress the experience(s) and related emotions into their subconscious where they leak out in the process of living. 

The capacity to handle building consequences of stress seems to be limited. And unless we work hard to develop lifestyles that allow us to vent emotions associated with building stress, we become both emotionally and physically putrefied which leads first to impacting our normal functioning and on to death.

The idea that our mental/emotional state and our physical state being separated is, fortunately, being recognized as an archaic notion and scientists are finally coming to realize that there is no such division. The mind/body is a single entity with a clearly defined feedback loop. What affects us emotionally, affects us physically and vice versa.

Passing obscurity

Given our true nature’s unimaginable character, Zen spills over with poetry and figures of speech, conveying what can’t be grasped. I have recently come upon the poetry of Hongzhi Zhengjue, the 12th-century Ch’an master, considered by Dogen as a living Buddha. His imagery is particularly lucid when talking about meditation and images that help us understand. Throughout Zen’s literature, you’ll find poetic depictions of clouds passing in the night sky to reveal the moon. This symbolic image is intended to show the relationship between fleeting thoughts and the pervasive light of consciousness. Like clouds, a mind filled with elusive thoughts obscures the clarity of insight. And our thoughts, like the movement of clouds, come and go. Here is how Ch’an master Hongzhi put this to verse:

“Right here—at this pivotal axle,

opening the swinging gate and clearing the way—

it is able to respond effortlessly to circumstances;

the great function is free from hindrances.”

This short verse captures the essential process. When the clouds pass away, the light of enlightenment is revealed and functions without hindrance, adapting effortlessly to evolving and ever-changing life.

Enhancing Wisdom Access

Since Right Mindfulness and Right Concentration (steps 7 and 8) are so closely aligned, we’ll consider them together. These are steps of mental discipline that occur within meditation to refine capacity and depth and thus enhance wisdom access. And they serve as the capstones of the Nobel Eightfold Path to emphasize the importance of the emancipating process.

When we meditate, two things are taking place: mindfulness and concentration (unfortunately, so are drifting, sleeping, boredom, impatience, etc.) Mindfulness means being aware, and concentration means to focus. Both awareness and focus are what our minds do (or not, depending on discipline). When we are meditating, we are engaging the mind and manifesting interdependency as follows. Let’s first consider “thinking,” which is a big part of meditation. We are aware of thoughts, and we focus our awareness single-pointedly.

For thoughts to exist, there must be a thinker (by definition). Thoughts are not independent of a thinker, and a thinker is meaningless without thoughts. This is the classic case of dependent origination. So thoughts are going on while we are meditating, and thus there is an active thinker. This process comes and goes. We think we notice our thoughts (through mindfulness), and we choose to release (not become attached) these thoughts and return to a focus (on our breath —our “mind anchor”). It is a bit like training a dog on a leash. The dog attempts to bolt away, we give the dog a gentle tug on the leash, and the dog learns to heel.

Now consider the following. Since thinking and thinkers arise and fall together, it is clear that both thinkers and what they produce (thoughts) are unreal. Recall that the Buddhist definition of reality means “intrinsic substantiality—independence.” A thought is not independent of a thinker, nor is a thinker independent from thoughts; thus, neither is “real.” Both thinkers and thoughts are therefore passing phantoms—mirages, clouds which obscure wisdom. This process takes place whether or not when we are meditating. The benefit of meditation is that we devote time and energy to watching this taking place, learn to train our minds, and thus become aware of the elusive nature of what occurs. As long as we stay attached to thoughts and empower them with the belief that they are real, we continue to respond inappropriately and therefore create bad karma.

A curious thing is that by thinking, or not thinking, we are still there. We don’t come and go, but our thoughts do. So the question becomes, “Who or what is it that remains?” And what do we call the state when our minds become still, and we are not thinking? All Buddhist sutras refer to the state of non-thinking as Samādhi —when the clouds of delusions cease, we see with the light of wisdom. Likewise, the sutras say that the “who” is our true nature—Buddha-Nature, our true nature.
Consider the words of Ch’an Master Sheng-yen in his commentary on the Sutra of Complete Enlightenment. 

“We practice until the self is gone. When the self disappears, all obstructions will be gone too. There cannot be a self that is free from all obstructions. If there is a sense of self, then there are also obstructions. There cannot be obstructions without a self to create and experience them because the self is an obstruction.”  

This is just another way of speaking about dependent origination. Thinkers/thoughts; self/obstructions. It’s the same thing. When we reach this samadhi state, there is no self/thinker, no subject/object. Both disappear and fuse into a single, non-perceptible state. The two become one. So what about this non-thinking/non-obstructive state? Let’s share a passage spoken by The Buddha from the Vajrasamadhi-sutra.

“The Buddha replied, ‘Bodhisattva, ordinary meditation is, in fact, mental activity. Being neither distracted nor concentrated is the true non-thought-creating meditation. Since the nature of this meditation is non-thought-creating, therefore, abandon any meditation that fabricates sense-objects. The nature of non-thought-creating meditation is non-abiding [meaning, it doesn’t last]. Therefore, one should abandon any sign of abidance in meditation. If one knows that the true nature of meditation is free from both distraction and calmness, one immediately accesses the wisdom of non-creation of a phenomenon. This wisdom of non-creation does not depend on abidance. Consequently, the mind will not be distracted. With this wisdom, this is how one attains the Nirvana—prajnaparamita.’”

“Think non-thinking,” wrote Master Dōgen Zenji. “How do we think without thinking? Think from the depths of non-thinking.” The ‘depth of non-thinking’ refers to mind-essence—the realm of ‘pure mind’ where no thought defilements exist. This state of consciousness is hard to describe in words. Still, it comes from practicing the correct mind’s correct attitudes within a deep state of concentration while maintaining the zazen posture and rhythmic breathing. The goal of zazen is to reach Hishiryo consciousness. ‘Hishiryo is the harmonizing of objective and subjective views, ultimate consciousness beyond time and space, the highest consciousness beyond thinking and non-thinking. To experience Hishiryo consciousness—That is Zen.’”

“Without Thinking”

• No subject-object distinction: The subject has disappeared—this being the Zen interpretation of Buddhist anatta or no-mind. The ego/subject disappears since the subject is not real anyway. 

• Immediacy: Without a subject standing back (Or obscuring reality; No illusionary filters), the experience is one of immediacy within the dynamic field of consciousness.

• Fullness: Because the object is not filtered through an intentional act, it presents itself in its fullness. Things become what they are. They are thusness/Tathatā.

Such immediacy and fullness are Genjōkōan, “the pure presence of things as they are.” A Zen monk asked Master Deshimaru, “In Zen when you have satori, you can say, ‘I am God!’ Can that be interpreted as being like Saint Paul when he said, ‘It is not I who lives but Christ who lives in me?’”

Master Deshimaru answered: “Zazen is the same thing as God or Buddha. Dogen, the master of transmission, said, ‘Zazen itself is God.’ By that, he meant that during zazen, you are in harmony with the cosmos. In hishiryo consciousness, there is no more anything. It is satori consciousness. The self has dropped away and dissolved. It is the consciousness of God. It is God. People have a personal God. We are not separate. There is no duality between God, Buddha, and ourselves. If I say, ‘I am God or Buddha,’ I am a little bit crazy. Mushotoku is important. If you think consciously about God or Buddha, it’s not good. If I say you are God or Buddha while you are practicing zazen, it’s not the same thing as if you say it about yourself. In Zen, you must have no goal. In hishiryo consciousness, the personal self, however illuminated it may be, is still here. Meister Eckhart said, ‘If you empty yourself, God enters into you.’ In Zen, the ego enters into God. God enters into the ego. Both.”

It is a serious mistake in the understanding of Zen to refer merely to the “denial” or “cessation” of conceptual thinking. It is quite clear that in Ch’an Buddhism, no-mind, rather than referring to an absence of thought, refers to the condition of not being trapped in or attached to thoughts, not adhering to a certain conceptual habit or position.

The error of interpretation made by many scholars (and by Zen practitioners as well) lies precisely in taking the term “no-thought” to refer to some kind of permanent or ongoing absence of thought. While this assumption is routinely made, it is impossible to corroborate it in the Ch’an canon. If we study the seminal texts carefully, we do find a description of the experience of an instantaneous severing of thought that occurs in the course of a thoroughgoing pursuit of a Buddhist meditative exercise. But nowhere in the Platform Sutra, Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment, Diamond Sutra, or any other major Ch’an text is the term “no-mind” explained to be permanent incapacitation thinking faculty or the permanent cessation of all conceptual activity.

In my next post, I’ll summarize the steps we’ve taken along the Noble Eightfold Path and then return to the matter which launched this discussion—The five ways of seeing and how the Path relates to these “eyes.”