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.

The Producer

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.”—William Shakespeare.

Once there lived a person of enormous wealth in the land of everywhere: a producer with great ideas for making movies. But he knew that making movies was an involved process, and he would need talented people with different functions to turn his ideas into a film. Since he was very wise, he knew he would need to hire the best talent for each function, give them all clear and adequate direction, equip them with the right tools, empower them with responsibility, and then not micro-manage the filmmaking process. He understood that to micro-manage the production would be futile and could clearly see that he’d need to pay big bucks to hire the best talent. He also knew that making movies was quite an involved process and didn’t want to manage just producing movies since he had many other demanding projects for which to care. He thought about this challenge and decided he first needed to hire a top-flight general manager.

Having given some thought to finding such a person, he realized that what he wanted most in that position was someone cast in his own image. If he could locate the right person, then his life would be much more comfortable because such a manager would be able to anticipate his needs without looking over his shoulder every few minutes. After some trial and error, interviewing various candidates, he found the person he was convinced was just right. Of course, the person didn’t come cheap, but in the long run, he reasoned it would be better to pay the price than to hire the wrong person, fire him when he didn’t work out, lose time and money and then need to start again from scratch.

After extensive contract negotiations, he hired the ideal General Manager. Now the two sat down and talked about the producer’s ideas and the need to find the rest of the crew. He told his new GM that money was no object; hire the best talent and get moving. The GM was excited, and off he went to scout and hire the crew. Let’s see, there was a need for someone to write the screenplay, and that person must have a vivid imagination and wordsmithing skills. An art director to work with the writer would also be needed, a camera crew, an editor, someone to write a musical score, arrange and orchestrate the music, a customer, someone to scout locations, another person to find and cast the actors, a director, and of course someone to put together the work of all those people. Oh, and one more pressing matter—a theater would be needed where the film would be projected onto a screen. Better yet, he wanted a theater enabled by a virtual reality where the viewers could watch, smell, and feel the production.

After what seemed a long time, everyone needed was found, hired, equipped, and given direction by the GM, and finally, the shooting began. From time to time, the wealthy producer would check in and review where the project stood. He watched the dailies and talked with the GM about appropriate adjustments, but this was a delicate matter. People with the skill and expertise of the GM were not terribly comfortable with heavy-handed direction, and they were generally somewhat of a prima donna. So he needed finely crafted people skills to get what he envisioned without alienating the GM.

All went well for a while, but slowly and surely, the GM started to resent the wealthy producer. Of course, he thought the producer was not aware of this developing attitude because the GM was a crafty fellow. The GM had decided to plan a coup d'état, intended to steal the entire production and take all of the glory for himself. He reasoned: Why should I have a boss? I am the one doing the work, so I should make all of the money. Being a wily person, he pulled off the coup. But he didn’t know that the producer knew this all along and intended for the GM to carry off the coup. Why would he allow such a thing? Because he knew that an arrogant GM was like a wild stallion and needed to be broken to be of much long-term usefulness. 

Talent seemed to come along with a big ego, and he knew the project would flop under the exclusive reign of the arrogant GM. And when it did, it would be abundantly clear to everyone (most importantly to the GM) that it flopped because the wealthy producer was no longer running matters behind the scenes. The producer didn’t care if the project failed since his wealth was vast, and he had a whole lineup of better film ideas awaiting production if a trustworthy and proven GM could take charge. 

So the producer allowed the coup to unfold with no resistance. And what was predicted happened: The show flopped, and with anger in his heart and hat in hand, the GM had no choice but to see that he needed the producer after all. Before it wasn’t clear, the GM had a big head and imagined his independent greatness; he had to learn the hard way, by failure. Now the real show could begin. Now the pompous, self-righteous GM had been broken like a wild stallion, and Now the two could make some really great films together. 

Are you wondering why I’ve spun this allegorical tale? The reason is that this story is what happens in our minds. All of us need to know that we are people of great wealth already, tell stories, and make movies. Real wealth is what we think we would buy one day once we have earned enough. So we spend our entire lives working to obtain that distant goal. We chase the rabbit for more, only to discover that there is never enough, and the harder we run, the faster the goal moves away. Then one day, if we’re extraordinarily fortunate, we stop to catch our breath long enough to realize an invaluable truth: the prize is already closer to us than our own breath.

Real wealth is not on the horizon for several reasons. First, there will never be a distant goal. That’s an illusion that shimmers like heat dancing on the pavement as we race across the desert toward the mirage of an imaginary oasis. It only looks real. There is no tomorrow and, thus, no distant goal. There will never be anything other than now. That’s the first reason. The second reason is that we need to think more clearly about the nature of what we seek. What we all desire is to love and be loved, health, emotional and spiritual abundance, a sense of joy and amazement, happiness that arises like effervescent bubbles from our depth, quality relationships, having our basic needs provided, a lack of stress and fear, and a bone-deep knowledge that we are beautiful just as we are. These qualities constitute genuine wealth; they can’t be purchased at any price and will always be here and now because they exist within us all. They are the worth beneath our mistaken notions that more of the stuff that passes away moment-by-moment will ever be enough.

We are all geese who lay golden eggs. Only we don’t know because we get into such a rush chasing that rabbit that we never pause long enough to find our roots. When we stop, we can see this never-eroding treasure buried beneath the race to oblivion by our arrogant egos. We were, and always have been, home, living in a castle of enormous wealth: our mind. That is our true nature, our only true life. Everything else is an illusion, a dance of insanity. Nothing is lacking, and the race to obtain what is already ours is sheer madness.

But then there are those who will read this and say, He just doesn’t get it. If he only knew what I have gone through, he wouldn’t be such a Pollyanna. Indeed, I don’t see what you have gone through, but I do know what I’ve gone through. We all bear the rigors. We all suffer. Everyone experiences terrible tragedies. None of us can escape the consequences of karmic adversity or simple living. 

I’ve had my own tragedies and suffered much to the point of utter despair. I stood at the edge of death several times. First, in war, and later when I saw no reason for hope, I was ready to take my own life, but I was spared. I stepped away, found that producer, and discovered my own treasure within, buried deep down beneath my own corruption. So don’t delude yourself with this idea; this victim excuse that mine is terrible, and others aren’t. Suffering goes with the territory of mortal living. Nobody escapes, and everyone is already wealthy beyond the boundaries of our rational imaginations. That is why the true Self is known as being transcendent. Conceptual vision is not our friend. It is a prison of our rational mind. And the not-to-be-found mind moves us away from fantasy and back to reality. 

The wealthy producer in the story is behind the scenes running the show, but nobody knows he’s there except the GM. The GM is our ego, a self-image—self-righteous, talented, with a big head and of very little worth without being broken. And how does an ego get crushed? By trial and error. Give it enough rope, and it’ll hang itself. Try to force its hand, and it’ll resist. It’s a crafty creature and up to no good until it learns how inadequate it is by itself. We are the real power behind our own throne—the wizard of the Oz we create, and our ego has to learn the hard way that the producer and our ego are an inseparable team. Until that lesson is learned, there is only chaos.

The rest of the crew are our various functions that collaborate to produce what appears to be a seamless rendition of reality. When the film is in the can, and the audience is assembled, the film is projected, but the screen is not out there―it is being projected in the theater of the mind. It is such a stunning movie that it is almost like being in the film. We don’t realize that we are actually in the film we produce. We will never be outside of the movie since the movie is us, only we don’t call it a movie. We call it our relative and the conditional world, which, we imagine, is not us. We are the movie, the crew who produced it, the audience who watches, the GM, and the producer. It is all produced within a virtual realm, which we imagine is the real world. Everything produced is a virtual reality—all conditional and based on causes and effects. Even the unconditional producer is a virtual being. The entire assemblage is an illusion—a story we tell ourselves. This is our mind at work, which can’t be found. 

As the movie (movement) unfolds, our mind comes into being. When the video stops, our mind likewise ceases to exist. Our minds and movies are one and the same thing. The only function of the mind is movement. When the mind moves, the world appears. When the mind stops, the world disappears. Zen masters and sages, even before The Buddha, said this is an accurate rendition, and now the science of neurology confirms it.

Is this just a fantastic allegory? Perhaps an interesting story, but no more? Granted, creative liberties have been taken, but fundamentally the story is an accurate portrayal of the way it is. This is the Dharma of real life. This is what The Buddha saw when he woke up. It may seem strange, incredible, and fantastic, but it is accurate.

So how must we understand this? Awakening can be confirmed only through personal experience.  We—our only substantial and pure nature—are the unchanging and already complete producer who lacks nothing but can’t be seen. Nothing can be added to, nor subtracted from, a perfect mind since the mind is everything (yet nothing). To try to do either (add to or subtract from) is an exercise in utter futility. Nothing is lacking. Everything is already present. Clinging to anything adds nothing to who we truly are. Our true identity is no identity, yet it is secure, and the rush to add to something that is already complete is a fool’s journey. The vector of wholeness does not come through addition. It comes through subtraction, and that is what we must do when we meditate: allow the virtual to vanish into the void, and when it dissolves, we find we’re home, right where we’ve always been. We are Buddhas, waiting to wake up from a virtual dream.

“The mind is the root from which all things grow. If you can understand the mind, everything else is included. It’s like a tree. All of its fruit and flowers, its branches and leaves, depend on its root. If you nourish its root, a tree multiplies. If you cut its root, it dies. Those who understand the mind reach enlightenment with minimal effort. Those who don’t understand the mind practice in vain. Everything, good and bad, comes from your own mind. To find something beyond the mind is impossible.”—Bodhidharma; The Breakthrough Sermon

You

Thinkers think thoughts.

Thoughts produce thinkers.

Thoughts are about things.

Things are not thoughts.

Thoughts are not things.

Both thoughts and thinkers are unreal.

Things are not unreal.

Abstractions are thoughts about what’s real.

You are not an abstraction.

You are a real 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.

Ideas and what ideas are about

Ideas about ideas

We think in image forms. Thoughts are not real. They are abstractions, coded messages that represent something but are not what’s being represented. In our minds-eye, we see a constant flow of images and ordinarily, imagine these images are real and, in such a state of mind, go unaware that there is a watcher of this flow. That’s what being conscious of our thoughts means. There is a watcher, and there is what’s being watched. Neither of these (the watcher or the watched) can exist by itself. It takes both for thinking to occur.

On the left side of our brain is the image factory, creating thought images, and on the right side of our brain is the watcher of the images. It’s a marvelous system, and both sides must function together. But since we have two sides, responsible for different functions, each side does things differently. The left side thinks in language (coded images). The right side “thinks” in pictures (interpreting the images). The left side talks but doesn’t understand, and the right side understands but doesn’t talk. Together the two sides make a great team, but individually they make for bad company.

The problem with our world today is that we are predominately left brain analyzers and have not been trained to make sense of what’s being analyzed. Education (in a normal sense) trains our language and analytics capacities but ignores our capacities that enhance compassion, creativity, and insight. Consequently, we are out of balance aggressors, dominated by our egos, and unaware that we are creating an abstract and unreal world that is progressively more violent and hostile.

The problem with identity is that we assume that an objective and independent watcher is doing the watching. We label that watcher as “me”—a self-image (otherwise called an ego). But here is where this must lead. So long as we see an image of ourselves, that image (ego) can’t possibly be the watcher because the watcher can’t see itself. So long as we see any images (self-image included), there is a difference between what is being watched and the watcher.

Some time ago, I read Paul Brok’s book “Into the Silent Land,” and wrote about what he had to say. Broks is an English neuropsychologist and science writer. The astonishing thing about our mind was laid out in these terms:

“That, which is basically inanimate ‘meat,’ can and routinely does animate with consciousness, cognition, imagination, feelings and every other aspect of our mental condition seems to float by as a given.” Due to FMRI imaging, it is possible to see certain parts of our brain light up when various thoughts and emotions are being processed. He observes that nothing remotely resembling any of these functions is found when a brain of a cadaver is dissected. It is indeed a mystery, yet we know neural activity occurs as abstractions of reality, but nobody can actually “touch” what is real.

The true person has no image dimension because all images are objective, whereas the true person is subjective. Subject/Object—Two halves joined together into a single real thing. One part can be seen (an image), and the other part can’t be seen (the watcher of the image). An image isn’t real. It just looks that way. The part that is real is the part that can’t be seen.

Perpetual Motion

Our daughter tried for a long time to build a perpetual motion machine from her Legos. She wasn’t the first to give this a shot, but as attractive as the idea seems, no one has succeeded. The physical law of Conservation of Energy states that energy can’t be created nor destroyed, only converted from one form into another. In that conversion, the generated energy must never fall below the energy used to keep the motion going.

I’ve often wondered about the fit between a perpetual energy machine and the way our minds function. The parallels are insightful and instructive in understanding the meditative process. We have a machine within us that manufactures products that are then converted into energy used to fuel the machine, which produces more products in a never-ending feedback loop. The machine in question is the self, which for illustration purposes, let’s call a “thinker.” This thinker manufactures the products of thought, and these thoughts are used/converted by the thinker-machine into energy, which sustains the self-thinker. In a pure sense, this process is a perpetual motion machine. The critical question is whether or not the energy used is equal to the power generated?

Taking this process apart can be quite educational in guiding the meditation practice. What happens on the cushion? It goes like this: We sit down and turn on the machine. It begins to think. 

Actually, the machine is already on (it’s always running), but we just become aware when we sit down. Because we are mindful, we notice the object/thoughts. Because we have given our self, the instructions: (1) when we notice these object/thoughts, we neither cling to nor resist (forms of attachment), but (2) will instead concentrate on the breath. This works for a while, and then (3) the machine starts up once again. We repeat steps 1 thru 3, and then the cycle continues over and over. 

Some times we have a hard time even getting to the first step but instead are caught up in the pre-step #1 conversation because we are not sufficiently mindful to even notice the conversation. Other times we are mindful but not sufficiently concentrated. Yet other times, we can stay within the boundaries of steps 1 and 2 and rarer, yet the machine just stops with no more object/thoughts being manufactured. When that happens, the thinker goes on vacation, and we enter samadhi.

This machine operates according to a set of dynamic “instructions” within the five skandhas framework, which is worth considering. The first of the five is “form”: The physical/psychic/emotional capacities which constitute what sits on the cushion. The second is “feeling.” This includes sensations that our form feels with its functions. Accordingly, these feelings can be physical, mental, or emotional sensations. The third skandhas are “perceptions.” 

Ordinarily, we think of perception as being equivalent to sensing. It is hard to imagine sensing something which we don’t perceive (or vice versa). However, from a Skandhas point of view, perception includes a post-sensing aspect, which entails discrimination and judging; in other words, how we react to what we sense. We sense (become aware of) a particular object/thought, we vote on whether or not we like/don’t like the object/thought, and we move on to the fourth skandhas “will or volition,” where we choose how to react (cling or resist). 

And lastly, there is consciousness, what we could call mental state or mood. These dynamic instructions are operating continuously and are a critical aspect of what moves the “machine.”

It is not a given that these causal links must continue automatically in an unbroken fashion. In fact, the Heart Sutra tells us that these five are empty, which means that they don’t have a life of their own. They are causally linked, and they can be interdicted through mindfulness and redirected concentration. 

For example, a sensation in the knee is not pain. “Pain” is the result of the post-sensing aspect of discrimination, judging, and labeling. The feeling is just a sensation that we perceive, judge, label, choose how to respond, which then generates a mood. This entire chain of causal links occurs at lightning speed—so fast that it seems like a single thing, but it is not. 

When we sit and observe, we can see the separate links happening and realize that we don’t have to go along for the automatic trip. Try it the next time you sit. Observe the process and see if you can make a different choice. For example, if your knee is hurting, try to just stay with the sensation without turning it into a vote of “pain.” Just focus on the pure sensation and choose to not move. If you can cut the chain at this juncture, the remaining links will not materialize because they depend upon what occurs before their turn. For example, without the judgment of “pain,” there won’t be the next step of volition and without volition, no ensuing “mood.”

What this mindful/awareness/choice teaches us is that we can choose to alter our karma. We don’t have to accept our automatic instructions and the resulting karma that flows from our perpetual motion machines. Either we will run the engine, or it will ruin us.

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.”

A Moment Ago

A moment ago I had a thought of myself 

thinking a thought about me.

Was the thought about me, before me thinking?

Or was there a me before the thought about me doing the thinking?

Thinkers and thoughts.

Chickens and eggs.

Around and around the Mulberry Bush we go.

Where it stops nobody knows.

Where it begins follows the stopping.

Or is it the other way round?