Seeing through the bias of life.

A few days ago I wrote a post called, “The lens through which we see the world.” 

In that post, I said that we are all looking through the filter of biases I labeled rose-colored glasses. Like any lenses we see though, we remain unaware. The lenses are like a pair of glasses sitting on our noses, coloring our perceptions of life. The world just appears shaded rose-colored, and we assume thas it is. 

Perception depends on the ability to discriminate one thing from another based on differences. That quality defines our ability to perceive the conditional world. Seeing differences is not the problem. The problem is the overlay on top of perception that tells us, the differences we see are either good or bad (the faculty that emerges from bias, which we call judgments).

When Jesus taught, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you,” he was speaking in karmic terms: what goes around comes around. This teaching is not different from that taught by The Buddha: “You will not be punished for your anger; you will be punished by your anger.” 

Perception is unavoidable. Judgment is not, and the essential key that unlocks this capacity is understanding our own mind. The Yogācārians refined this understanding with a model: a roadmap to see through these illusions. The map above is an image that illustrates the dimensions of mind, ranging from the unconditional to the conditional. 

According to the model, at the base of mind sits the unmoving aspect of mind I wrote about when discussing Akshobhya, the immovable one who reflects whatever is perceived, as if in a mirror. That aspect, (because it is beneath conscious awareness), remains unseen, yet it is the seer in us all.

Moving upwards in consciousness toward the perceptible/conditional world, we move through several channels that color (bias) what we perceive. First, there is a channel associated with our senses, including cognition that combines into a gestalt that results in what was called the third subjective bias. 

On the other axis lies the deep mind, still beneath conscious awareness, that divides into the storehouse (Alaya-vijnana: Sanskrit-storehouse consciousness) and what is known as ahamkara or “I-maker” (ego). The Alaya-vijnana contains karmic seeds: the residue from prior lives. When the body dies, we retain the unresolved effects of how we lead our previous lives. Having done right, the seeds start our new life on a sound footing. Bad experience before, bad seeds continue—either good or bad results in the first subjective level of bias.

The ahamkara/“I-maker” (ego) has a special kind of bias that is governed by the qualities of greed, anger, and ignorance. The ego is not aware of the true nature of mind, since that nature is buried deep, but instead believes it is the true nature and, in the sense of fear, survival, and possessiveness, operates to ensure competitive well-being. The ego defines itself by attaching to the ephemeral nature of things (attachment: raga), and when these things are lost, the ego reacts with anger following the loss (dvesha), and this error causes the second subjective bias. 

All three levels of subjective bias then combine to shape the color of an individual’s filters through which they perceive the world and cause judgments (which are understood to be justified, but in truth are misplaced self-righteousness). While Bodhidharma was right: “The mind is the root from which all things grow. If you can understand the mind, everything else is included.” The bottom line is it isn’t necessary to allow this model to govern our lives since there is only one thing we can do to ensure spiritual growth: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” When we do that, all of the levels of bias are transcended, and we move forward toward realizing our own united perfection (τέλειος: spiritual maturity/completion).

The icon of purity and unification.

Akshobhya

Buddhism employs many icons of important significance. One of these is Akshobhya who is considered as the embodiment of mirror knowledge. As such he symbolizes the mind itself—clear as the sky, empty yet luminous. 

According to the teaching of Zen, what has ordinarily been considered our mind is merely a fabricated illusion spawned by a host of biases, preconceived notions, and cherished beliefs. And this fabrication is then constructed in the form of thoughts and emotions to which we cling. This clinging to illusions dominates our lives. Instead, the true mind is pure knowledge of what is real, vs. what is an illusion—a mere reflection of actual reality. Akshobhya represents the eternal mind holding the images of space and time, yet untouched by them all. In Sanskrit, his name means the immovable one.

In another post, “Reflections of Reality,” I began to illustrate the nature of the true mind and quoted Bodhidharma:

“The mind is the root from which all things grow. If you can understand the mind, everything else is included.” And he said this to illustrate these two aspects (sic, dependent origination). One of these is an endless illusion (that looks real) and the other is non-illusory and empty. The first is always moving like clouds across an immovable sky. What Zen teaches is that our only true mind is that sky that never moves. Instead, it functions like a mirror reflecting whatever comes before it.

It is peculiar that in the West we define mental health by the ability to distinguish between what is real and what is not. Yet according to Zen our grasp of reality is the flip side of reality. Instead, here in the West reality=illusion: we mistake the illusion as reality instead of a reflection and never consider the means whereby we can distinguish between reality and illusion. If you think deeply about this conundrum it is obvious that there must be an immovable mental faculty capable of making distinctions between one thing and another. If this were not true everything would blend into an indistinguishable mess.

Movement and non-movement are mirror aspects of each other and both must arise (and be distinguishable) from a base of nothing. Einstein dealt with this in his thoughts on relativity. We, for example, are moving through space on the earth at a given speed and anything else that is moving at the same speed appears to be not moving. If this base of immobility and emptiness contained something (instead of nothing) then we could not distinguish between that something and other things. 

Contrast is fundamental to the ability to distinguish anything. For example, an image of black depends on a backdrop of something not black. If everything is black there could not be a perception of anything other than black. Likewise, unless there is a backdrop of nothing, we couldn't perceive anything with discernible qualities.

Akshobhya is that immovable aspect of the eternal mind holding the images of space and time, yet untouched by them all. And since he illustrates this empty quality he also defines the unconditional true nature of us. Anything that is unconditional is not subject to the definition of discrimination. Akshobhya is the icon that represents the quality of pure consciousness that unites us all.

Kindness

We all expend a lot of energy opposing, and too little embracing. We are adept at ferreting out differences and estranged from sameness, long on talking, and short in doing. 

Today in the U.S. is a time we repeat once each year. It’s a day of giving thanks and expressing gratitude for what we have and, for a brief time, setting aside what we don’t.

When I was a boy I found it confusing and upsetting when I noticed how very pious people were while in church but how corrupt they were when not. As I grew older, I was told that the church was the house of God and that was the reason for the difference. That answer satisfied nothing and I thought to myself, what kind of God lives in a building but not in the hearts of people? Does that mean there is to be no peace anywhere, except in a building?

Later still I had the opportunity to attend seminary and learned to read Koine Greek and grasp the significance of ideas and words spoken by Jesus. In addition, I spent nearly 40 years practicing and studying Zen. Consequently I am an educated man but not a content one. I remain as confused and dismayed today as I was as a child noticing the hypocrisy of people who appear pious yet act with hatred. For many years I struggled to reconcile religious and spiritual differences among peoples of the world: to bridge those differences and find the common ground of caring among all of God’s people.

I discovered that way in my Greek study, but alas hardly anyone reads Koine Greek! And even if they did it seems to be human nature to cling to what they think and reject what they don’t. There is a passage in the Bible, allegedly spoken by Jesus (it doesn’t matter if it really was) that expresses the way I was seeking, and it concerns ideological differences: the source of all conflict. The passage, like many great words, is short: fifteen words that could change the course of human affairs if put into practice. Nevertheless, I have an obligation to share the knowledge I acquired: to lay it at the feet of readers and hope they will take to heart the message. If that should happen, the walls of Jericho (the church) would collapse and hearts would then become the new church.

Here is the passage, and what it means in Koine Greek. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” — John 15:13. And here is how that same passage reads in Greek: “Greater love has no one than this: to set aside manifestations of the mind for their friends.” Now that seems like a stretch but the Greek word undergirding the English word life in this passage is psuché (the basis of the word psyche: the human mind). So the essential matrix of questions: The most important set of related questions is the significance of setting aside one’s mind, how is it done and what is the result?

Ordinarily, we confuse a manifestation with a source. And when a ridiculous example is provided we can see how absurd it is. For example we all know that cars don’t suddenly just one day appear by magic at our front door (even though they do in TV commercials). No, instead the car is manufactured in a plant somewhere. The manufacturing facility is the source and the car is the manifestation. The two are directly related. No manufacturing plant=no car. That is so basic even a child can understand, but what how does that example fit the mind? Just as a car is a manifestation of a production facility, our ideas are the manifestation of our true mind. Our ideas are not our minds. They are the result of the mind. Ideas are all different and become ideologies over which we have fought since we walked out of the caves.

A few days ago I wrote a post concerning the manner in which Zen people express their true mind. In Japanese, the expression is “Mushin, Shin” which means no-mind is Mind. That seems very odd until you realize that the little shin means ideas and the big Shin means the source of ideas (the true mind). So then the question is what is MU? And the answer is nothing (no-thing), and perhaps most curious is this expression: Mushin, Shin is the same thing as Greater love has no one than this: to set aside one’s mind for their friends.

If you think clearly about conflicts and oppositions, neither would exist without ideas. But, you say, what would the world be like with no ideas? The answer is when anyone stops thinking, at that very moment (even if it is for a fleeting second) they become unified with all, and out of that space of no-thing/no-thinking arises all of the love of the world. It may be a quickly vanishing flash of pure, non-discriminate, unconditional love but that tiny seed, once experienced, can grow into the obliteration of differences and estrangement. We may not ourselves be able to sit under the shade of the tree of love that grows from those seeds but it is a beginning.

So today, be grateful for the love that resides in the hearts of all mankind and out of that heart, perform an act of random kindness.

The road to an imaginary nowhere.

I recently came across a statement that suggested that a precursor to moving beyond our egos was to first have a good or healthy one. There was something that troubled me about the suggestion that may have appeared worthy until thoroughly examined. 

Good egos/bad egos are both judgments, but to first make such a judgment, it’s necessary to describe the nature of ego and to distinguish it from our true self. In another post (Irrational exuberance and the tradition of silence), I shared what Chán Master Sheng Yen, said (Complete Enlightenment—Zen Comments on the Sutra of Complete Enlightenment) about the self/ego. He said:

“… there cannot be a self (e.g., ego) 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.” 

To pick and choose one phenomenal condition in contrast with another and feel righteous about our choice runs the risk of becoming self-righteous. So it is with care and sensitivity that I approach this matter.

In spiritual vernacular, noumenality (in contrast to phenomenality—known by our senses) is known as our true spiritual nature and is understood as the wellspring source of all. Noumenality is neither good nor bad. It is just what it is until contaminated with judgments. Whether we are aware of this nature being universally imbedded in all sentient forms is somewhat beside the point. We have a human history of being unaware of many matters that changed our view of the world, for example, the idea that the earth was the center of the universe. This was, of course, not true despite our belief to the contrary. It is likewise analogous that the world does not revolve around us either.

Noumenality is translated as a-thing-unto-itself of which the senses give no knowledge, but whose bare existence can be intuited from the nature of experience. It is our seed—our jewel of great value. The name we choose to articulate this transcendent seed is arbitrary. Any and every name is as good or bad as the next. No name can adequately define what is transcendent and every name chosen leads us to conceptual error.

I’ve used the following quote so often in my writing I run the risk of over-kill. But it is so insightful that I find it difficult to resist repeating. In the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas, Jesus is quoted as having said: 

“If those who lead you say unto you: behold, the Kingdom is in heaven, then the birds of the heaven will be before you. If they say unto you: it is in the sea, then the fish will be before you. But the Kingdom is within you, and it is outside of you. When you know yourselves, then shall you be known, and you shall know that you are the sons of the living Father. But if you do not know yourselves, then you are in poverty, and you are poverty.”

Contrast this teaching with the ordinary understanding—That the Kingdom is in fact in the sky somewhere (e.g., in heaven) or just about any place other than indiscriminately distributed—transcendent to space-time. Here Jesus was saying that the Kingdom is not limited to space-time, not even singularly within or outside. But instead, we find the Kingdom everywhere and then we come to know ourselves as sons of the living Father. He closes this verse by saying if we don’t know who we are then we are indeed poor. We could easily travel for an eternity, trying to find what is always the Kingdom’s spiritual air we breathe. We would be like fish not knowing they swim in the water.

This is a startling teaching, only because it is so radically different from the ordinary dogmatic Christian view. In fact, it is very similar to the Buddhist teaching about enlightenment. That teaching says that our only reality emanates from the body of truth, which is not limited or restricted in any way, and it is the loss of ignorance, which reveals our true nature. 

This body of truth was known as the Dharmakaya (The One Mind—pure, unrestricted, consciousness), equivalent to the Kingdom. Indeed this teaching says the same thing—we are poor because we have not discovered who we are. We are deluded (and poor) because we mistakenly believe that we are a shadow (an ego) of our real self. When we awaken to our true nature then we join the ranks among the Buddhas—The Awakened ones and are recognized for who we truly are: as sons of the living Father.

Meister Eckhart, a German Christian theologian, philosopher, and mystic who lived 700 years ago clarified this distinction between God and the idea of God. He said, 

“Man’s last and highest parting occurs when for God’s sake he takes leave of god. St. Paul took leave of god for God’s sake and gave up all that he might get from god as well as all he might give—together with every idea of god. In parting with these he parted with god for God’s sake and God remained in him as God is in his own nature—not as he is conceived by anyone to be—nor yet as something yet to be achieved, but more as an is-ness, as God really is. Then he and God were a unit, that is pure unity. Thus one becomes that real person for who there can be no suffering, any more than the divine essence can suffer.”

My use of this quote underscores the important distinction between ideas and what is represented by ideas, or more aptly, an image, and what is represented by an image. This distinction is as meaningful for expressions of the ineffable as it is to tangible, measurable life. The philosophy of Zen does not require belief as blind faith. It considers this as an obstruction to the discernment of truth. To hold onto ideas, good or bad—however pious or well-intentioned—is considered part of the problem. 

It would seem that Eckhart would have agreed. Any and all givens are pieces of our own self-constructed prison bars, which reflect closed-mindedness and obstruct a-thing-unto-itself.  When we refuse to see what lies clearly before us, we forgo clarity in the interest of obligation and blind allegiance. These are mental anchors responsible for creating friction and emasculating our ability to adapt to changing circumstances, which in the nature of change determines genuine truth and justice.

The goal of Zen is to strip ourselves of illusions so that we can embrace life as it is, not as we decide it should be, and the means prescribed by the father of Zen (Bodhidharma) was simply to not think. Thinking is probably the greatest form of all delusion since is based on perception, which is completely phenomenal (as things appear through our senses).

Dogmatic constraints are gilds that distort life by requiring it to conform to artificially imposed constraints or suffer the consequences of rejection and condemnation, and the most pernicious shoulds are those, which we impose upon ourselves. 

Self-judgments result when we internalize the votes of others or impose judgments upon our selves and make them our own guiding force. In many cases, it takes years to break this cycle of self-judgment and recrimination, which lies at the heart of the manner in which we judge the world. By and large, we see life as a reflection of our own biases. Zen is a process, which can aid us in that endeavor by helping us to experience the contingency and emptiness of our egos and thus strip away the fences we create to set us apart and exalt us from others.

When we succeed in coming to terms with the fragile and fabricated nature of ego construction and dependency, we begin to notice that every other aspect of life is linked to this phantom entity, which drives the process. Pressed through the collapsing floors—dropping mind and body— to the ground of our being, we finally see our true linkage and are forced to accept union with our fellow humans and every other dimension of life. 

The result is deeply rooted compassion and desire to join with the unending ranks of those who have likewise plumbed the depths, survived the trip and found peace. When that occurs we realize that such discriminations and judgments like good and evil are nothing more than prison bars, which obstruct and diminish life and our relation to it.

The perversion of our correct selves into good or bad images degrades both our sense of the world and ourselves. An image of who we are, taken in one extreme direction results in feeling special and exalted compared to others. Taken in the opposite extreme, results in feelings of being worthless and lesser, compared to others.

Regardless, a rotten fish by any other name smells as bad. An ego is by nature a phantom idea or image of our true self and thus called a self-image. An image is a product of our imaginations: an unreal projection and can be nothing other than an image regardless of spin, and its nature is greedy, self-centered, and defensive. 

The perversion of our true noumenal nature is like a cloak masking our immaculate selves or a gild on a lily. It is not only not needed it is destructive. Eckhart reminded us that, 

“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.

Thus a good ego or a bad ego is in truth an oxymoron. If we wait until we have a good idea of self there would be no motivation to be rid of it. Chan Master Sheng-yen once pointed out, 

“Generally, unless a sleeping person is having a nightmare, he or she will not want to wake up. The dreamer prefers to remain in the dream. In the same way, if your daily life is relatively pleasant, you probably won’t care to practice in order to realize that your life is illusory. No one likes to be awakened from nice dreams.” And as one who had years of bad dreams about the despicable person, I thought I was, I can assure you I was very eager to wake up from the nightmare.

Echoes of truth

I, and I’m sure many others, have heard the expression that’s just an opinion. At the risk of being flippant, let me suggest that every word ever communicated is precisely that: an opinion. 

Someone must gather information (hopefully reliable), interpret, digest the significance (if any), and only then offer an opinion. But some may argue, yes but their opinion is truth. This may or may not be the case. Ordinarily, such expressions mean what is heard resonates with something within the hearer. If there is coherence between the communicated opinion, and the belief or standard held by the hearer, the conclusion is that is truth.

We all want to believe that what we hear is the truth but far too often it gets rejected before it ever reaches the ear of the hearer. Instead, it is blocked by preconceived beliefs or cherished and conflicting opinions of the hearer. In non-politically correct terms, that’s what we know as being closed-minded. Nobody wants to think of him or herself (or labeled by others) as being close-minded. Instead the offered opinion (perhaps even truthful) is DOA (dead on arrival) due to firmly held obstructions and inflexible filters. 

Often times a voiced perspective is never considered at all, since the hearer is so protective of their cherished opinion they rarely pause long enough to actually listen. Instead they are planning their rejoinder before even knowing what they are responding to. That is precisely the nature of an ego: fearful their perspectives will become punctured so much so they can’t tolerate opposing views. Their hearts are instead inflamed with choosing one view in opposition to their own.

The Lankavatara was allegedly the sutra most revered by Bodhidharma: the father of Zen. The sutra says the result of such ignorance are minds which “burn with the fires of greed, anger, and folly, finding delight in a world of multitudinous forms, their thoughts obsessed with ideas of birth, growth and destruction, not well understanding what is meant by existence and non-existence, and being impressed by erroneous discriminations and speculations since beginningless time, fall into the habit of grasping this and that and thereby becoming attached to them”

The Abhidharma-kośa (a Buddhist text widely respected, and used by schools of Mahayana Buddhism in India, Tibet, and the Far East) lists 51 states of mind most important to spiritual practice. Although not intended as inflexible rules, the included factors are seen as supportive of spiritual pursuit. Several of these guides are relevant to the issue of discerning truth. They are:

• Common-sense intelligence, consisting of finely tuned discrimination
• Giving up attachment to fixed views
• Ignorance of (among other matters) karma and lack of the wisdom of emptiness
• An inflated sense of superiority (pride)
• Wrong views based on emotional afflictions
• Closed-mindedness: my view is wrong yet is seen as best
• Pretense and/or hypocrisy

Taken together these perspectives advance the dispersion of delusion and promote discernment of truth. But most important of all is the recognition that when the truth is spoken there must be an echo from within a heart cleansed of tightly held vested interests. The truth will set us free but only when recognized as such. To make them accessible is the task of zazen: clearing away the underbrush to reveal eternal truth.

If it walks like a duck…

The common-coin understanding is that Buddhism is a Godless religion, and the reason for this view is that the Buddha didn’t focus on the concept of God but instead focused on understanding the mind and overcoming suffering. It’s worth the time and energy to thoroughly investigate this matter.

First is the notion that God can be understood conceptually. The Buddha’s perspective was that such a thing was not possible and, when thoughtfully considered, this is, of course, true. God is transcendent to all considerations and can’t be enclosed within any conceptual and rational framework. To even attach a name such as “God” is to be lost in a delusional pretense.

Sokei-an Shigetsu Sasaki used the name “Great Nature” and “Great Self.” There are many names to point to the nameless creator of heaven and earth but Sokei-an perhaps said it best. He said, “If you really experience ‘IT’ with your positive shining soul, you really find freedom. No one will be able to control you with names or memory of words—Socrates, Christ, Buddha. Those teachers were talking about consciousness. Consciousness is common to everyone. When you find your true consciousness, you will not need the names or words of any teacher.” 

As a result, Gautama addressed only what can be controlled and didn’t participate in fostering further delusion. So the question is whether or not ‘IT’ can be defined, even marginally. What are the characteristics of ‘IT’ and how does ‘IT’ function? Whatever name is chosen, regardless of religious affiliation, the nature of God is understood to inhabit the entirety of creation. 

The creator can’t be severed from what is created, which is the point of the Buddhist understanding that all form is the same thing as emptiness. Rather than using the name “God” (in vain), the name “Buddha” is used, and “Buddha” means awakened to the true essence of oneself. We might use any name but the essence would not change. An awakened person is said to enjoy the mind of enlightenment. 

If you read Buddhist literature extensively, you’ll find a laundry list of sorts, which speaks to this mind of enlightenment. It includes the following qualities: complete, ubiquitous, full of bliss, independent, transcendent, full of wisdom, never changes, the ground of all being, the creative force of everything, devoid of distinctive nature (ineffable) yet all form endowed with this nature.

When we take all of this in and digest it, a duck begins to emerge that walks, talks, and looks like a duck. In the final analysis, a name is fleeting, but the substance remains forever. Here is what Jesus is recorded as having said about where God lives: 

“If your leaders say, ‘Look, the Kingdom is in the Heavens,’ then the birds will be before you. If they say, ‘It is in the ocean,’ then the fish will be before you. But the Kingdom is inside of you, and the Kingdom is outside of you. When you know yourself, then you will know that you are of the flesh of the living Father. But if you know yourself not, then you live in poverty and that poverty is you.”—Gospel of Thomas 3.

We must acknowledge that languages are means of articulating something but the something is never the same as the words we choose. What possible difference does the name make? We have grown excessively protective of our own names of choice and sadly have lost touch with our very own souls.

The scholastic trap.

Most people regard themselves as smart and have consequently fallen in love with the rational model for dealing with and solving our challenges and problems. We want to understand our world and the issues relevant to us. If we can’t fathom the reasons, we seem powerless to move. This is both a distinguishing aspect of being human and a threat to our existence. When someone is holding a gun to your head, you need to set aside the desire to rationally resolve the dilemma and come to terms, not with the conceptual reasons and understanding, but instead to first deal with the reality of the threat.

Scholasticism was developed as a method of critical thought, which dominated teaching by the academics (scholastics, or schoolmen) of medieval universities in Europe from about 1100–1500 CE. This model was employed to articulate and defend orthodoxy in an increasingly pluralistic context. 

It originated as an outgrowth of, and a departure from, Christian monastic schools (the forerunners of current universities). Not so much a philosophy or a theology as a method of learning, scholasticism put a strong emphasis on dialectical reasoning to extend knowledge by inference and to resolve contradictions. 

Scholastic thought is also known for rigorous conceptual analysis and the careful drawing of distinctions. In the classroom, and in writing, it often takes the form of explicit apologetic disputation. A topic drawn from the tradition is broached in the way of a dialogue with a question, opponent’s responses are given, a counterproposal is argued, and opponent’s arguments rebutted. Because of its emphasis on rigorous dialectical method, scholasticism was eventually applied to many other fields of study. 

John Calvin stands out as the prime example of the logic of proof-texting, so convoluted that you need a step-by-step scientific roadmap from the beginning of time to endless eternity to fathom his disputations. His seminal work “Institutes of the Christian Religion,” published in 1536 CE, is his most significant contribution to hyperbole: the standard by which most Protestant (meaning “to protest”) theology continues today. I know this personally since I studied Calvin and reformed thought extensively while attending seminary.

Scholasticism began as an attempt to unify various contradictions on the part of medieval Christian thinkers: to harmonize the various authorities of their own tradition and to reconcile Christian theology with classical and late antiquity philosophy, especially that of Aristotle but also of Neoplatonism.

The main figures of scholasticism were Anselm of Canterbury, Peter Abelard, Albertus Magnus, Duns Scotus, William of Ockham, Bonaventure, and Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas’s masterwork, the Summa Theologica, is often seen as the highest fruit of Scholasticism. Important work in the scholastic tradition has been carried on; however, well past Thomas’s time, for instance, by Francisco Suárez, Molina, and among Lutheran and Reformed thinkers.

This entire approach, by design, is based on conceptual, abstract thought, assuming that a transcendent God could be converted into an object for theological study. The Age of the Enlightenment was a response to the scholastic movement and continued the tradition which it initiated. This movement is a manifestation of the Western attempt to rationally grasp reality but is by no means the only movement. 

In the East, a completely different model arose based on trans-rational vision and was best exemplified by the man who has been acknowledged as the father of Zen and known as Bodhidharma. This was the name given to him by his spiritual teacher (Hannyatara Sonja). His real name was Bodai Tara (surname Chadili), and he lived during the 5th century CE. This places him 1,000 years after the time of The Buddha and roughly 500 years before the scholastic emergence in the West. As nearly as anyone can prove, Bodhidharma transmitted Zen from India and into China and was a towering giant in the long history of Zen Masters. Reading what he had to say can be somewhat daunting.

One of his most profound teachings comes to us from what is now known as the Wake-up Sermon. In this sermon, Bodhidharma addresses the matter of “understanding.” In light of our ordinary grasp of this matter, what he has to say seems startling. Consider this—“People capable of true vision know that the mind is empty. They transcend both understanding and not understanding. The absence of both understanding and not understanding is true understanding...That which exists, exists in relationship to that which doesn’t exist.” 

What does “...the mind is empty” mean? Emptiness (in a Buddhist sense) has two meanings which are: (1) nothing is self-existing but rather depends upon something else, and (2) form is fundamentally lacking substantial existence. While similar, these two ways of grasping emptiness are subtly yet notably distinct.

Our mind has two aspects. One aspect is our “conditional mind”—our ordinary mind of thoughts and emotions, which we employ to manage and negotiate our conditional/relative world. This is the aspect of mind used by scholastics and the model standard in our world that is leading us into a quagmire of grief. 

The other aspect is our “unconditional mind”—fundamental consciousness atop which sits our ordinary mind of rational thought. In Buddhist vernacular, “unconditional mind” goes by many different handles, one of which is Buddha-mind (bodhi)—awakened mind. These two aspects are interdependent, and as Bodhidharma says, “That which exists, exists in relationship to that which doesn’t exist.” 

It would not be inaccurate to say that an “unconditional mind” doesn’t exist since the only way it could be perceived is by objectifying it (which renders it unreal). In its unmodified state, bodhi is real (yet imperceptible), but when objectified it becomes an abstraction (a delusion/unreal) in the same way that God becomes unreal when objectified. So, on the one hand, we can say that one aspect (it doesn’t matter which aspect we refer to) exists together with the other aspect (the first way of understanding emptiness) and that our unconditional mind is truly lacking substance—there is nothing there objectively (yet everything) except when manifested: the second way of understanding emptiness. It is important to understand this latter point.

Something (anything at all), which is unconditional, can’t possibly be defined or rationally understood since understanding is itself a set of conditions. If we objectify something real (make it perceptible), we strip it of life and make it abstract. The opposite is to reify something unreal (an object), which is to engage in delusion, believing something to contain life, which doesn’t. Our imaginary ego is a case in point of this latter, and our ego is fundamentally corrupt. The illusion of ego blocks access to bodhi since, in a delusive state, we make two errors— (1) We mistake our self-image for who we are, and in so doing (2), we remain blinded by ignorance and don’t have access to who we are genuinely.

Any object, by definition, is limited by conditions of time/space and circumstances, whereas bodhi (since it is unconditional) is transcendent—without limits. When we say “I understand,” what we are really saying is that we have a set of ideas under consideration, which we then accept as “understanding.” That is our conditional mind at work, and our conditional mind is incapable of real understanding since it is constrained by conditions perceived by our rational thought processes (left brain stuff). This is a conditional mind looking at unconditional mind and falling prey to delusion—believing its own PR. 

Contrast this with what Bodhidharma says: “The absence of both understanding and not understanding is true understanding.” If I said “I don’t understand,” this would be no better than saying that I do understand. Both of these expressions are manifestations of rational thought processes (different only by alternative conditions). What we ordinarily grasp as understanding is not understanding at all. It is a rational surrogate—an abstraction, which is rooted in the idea of “self”—a delusion.

When we say “I understand,” we are making reference to something which, in fact, doesn’t exist. There is no “I” except what we conjure up in our imaginations (a product of our conditional mind) which we consider as our identity, and this is grasped as separate, distinct, uniquely defined, and set apart from every other set of ideas belonging to other “not me’s.” 

The practical, everyday impact of this way of seeing is that proper understanding is beyond isolation and belonging to any individual, however intelligent. We are all, in truth, united and bound together at the level of unconditional mind (how could it be otherwise?). Individually we are a piece of this whole but just a piece, and while we may think it is possible to see the whole picture all by ourselves, this is a delusion of ego which is always joined with arrogance and defensiveness. True understanding is beyond the limitations of a conditional perspective.

Mahayana Buddhist thought (Zen belongs to this branch) stresses that bodhi is always present and perfect, and simply needs to be “uncovered” or disclosed to purified vision. We find in the “Sutra of Perfect Awakening” The Buddha teaches that, like gold within its ore, bodhi is always there within our mind, but requires obscuring mundane ore (the surrounding defilements of samsara and of impaired, unawakened perception) to be removed. Thus The Buddha declares:

“Good sons, it is like smelting gold ore. The gold does not come into being because of smelting...Even though it passes through endless time, the nature of the gold is never corrupted. It is wrong to say that it is not originally perfect. The Perfect Enlightenment of the Tathagata (A Buddha: our true mind) is also like this.”

The task, therefore, is not to create—enlightenment but rather to allow the afflictions of suffering to burn away the dross. To do otherwise is to reify reinventing an already existing wheel, leaving the go intact.

 Our desire to contain understanding within a scholastic framework only is a trap that threatens our existence. True understanding is not limited to conditions, which come and go. True understanding is beyond all limitations. Many will say that until we rationally understand a situation, our analysis is incomplete. It is only complete (the definition of τέλος) when we move beyond the conditional mind, reach the end, and embrace the unconditional mind.

Such a critique is like asking to have a conversation with a murderer holding a gun to our head and inquiring about his motives. The first step is to disarm him (or her). Then we can explore his or her reasons. This one-sided rational approach is what got us into the out of control entanglement we find ourselves in today. To continue down this road of conditional limitation and ideological opposition is a surefire prescription for disaster.

Discrimination or not? That is the question.

On the outside looking in.

To discriminate means what it says: to divide one thing from another. It begins with perception. We can see one thing only against a backdrop of difference. Orange and blue appear to the eye as two different things. What’s the opposite? No discrimination, where everything is the same.

The fundamental teaching of the entire New Testament can be summed up in one statement: non-discrimination, otherwise known as agape love (unconditional love). And the same thing is right for Buddhism. The names are different, but the principle is the same. Here the term used is compassion (ancient Indians didn’t know Greek), which actually means merging with another to the point where there is no longer you and me. There is just us.

Sadly many regard themselves as solid Judeo-Christians who have deluded themselves with the notion that they can practice hatred, discrimination, and bigotry as substitutes for love. But in fairness, many in every religion forget about the essence of their faith-expressions yet can quote chapter and verse to justify their disdain for their fellow humans.

Think about how magnificent life would be if we actually practiced love instead of hate. Then instead of attacking each other, we would exist in harmony. Now that would be revolutionary. 

Shantideva said this:

“All the suffering in the world comes from seeking pleasure for oneself.  All the happiness in the world comes from seeking pleasure for others.”

That is only possible when there is no difference between oneself and others, which is, of course, what Jesus meant when he said,

“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” Easy to say and so hard to do.

The essence of essence.

The essential essence

There is a curious correspondence between essential oil and us. We, too, contain an essence that has been extracted from our source, and, like essential oil, this essence contains the aroma of the source. Neither an essential oil nor our ineffable spirit can be further distilled, and neither is subject to changing conditions. Once we arrive at the essence the aroma can be infused in various media and the aroma persists. The difference between essential oil and us is that our source is needed, never goes away, and remains an unchanging aspect, forever.

What is the essence of the essence? Of all essences? Bodhidharma called the essential nature “our mind”—The Buddha, not the “quotidian” mind. This mind is our spiritual essence. Nothing, he said, is more essential than that. It is the void void: The critical spirit. Out of this apparent nothingness comes everything. Nothingness is the realm of the unconditional absolute, beyond the conditions of this or that.

That may or may not sound esoteric, lacking usefulness. Still, I’ll offer you two frames of reference that illustrate extreme value, albeit unseen: One from Lao Tzu and the other from physicist Lawrence Krauss. Lao Tzu said this about usefulness:

“We join spokes together in a wheel,

but it is the center hole

that makes the wagon move.

We shape clay into a pot,

but it is the emptiness inside

that holds whatever we want.

We hammer wood for a house,

but it is the inner space

that makes it livable.

We work with being,

but non-being is what we use.” 

And this from Lawrence Krauss. Our perceptual capacities are mesmerized by what moves, captured as a moth to a flame, but we never consider what moves them. And nothing is more useful than understanding that essence.