Defining characteristics.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First posted in August 2011

Our imaginary and real self—understanding both

The tides of transformation.

Before getting too far into my topic, first, let me speak about how we all perceive the physical world within which we live, and our self-understanding that grows from that complex of perceptual dimensions. And I emphasize the word “complex” since, unless we are lacking one or more perceptual capacities—such as Helen Keller, who was lacking both the capacity to see and the capacity to hear, the standard interrelated complex—the Gestalt, depends upon five sensory capabilities, e.g., sight, sound, smelling, feeling, tasting and thinking. And yes, thinking, because it is an internal aspect that emerges from the co-mingling of the other four. 

We perceive, for example, a perfectly ripe peach through sight, smell, feeling, and tasting, and we form an image in our mind of that co-mingled combination and label the Gestalt with a chosen word “peach,” at least in English. In French, it would be “pêche,” or in German “Pfirsich.” The human experience of a sensorily perceived “peach” is universally the same regardless of the word used to describe it. Changing the term does not change the experience. Shakespeare used this premise when he had Juliet utter to her lover Romeo: “Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet;…” Romeo held the idea that, because their names were different, they could not be united.
 

An analogy of how a computer works is a helpful metaphor in understanding. A computer has three, interrelated functions: Input (the data entered to be processed), data processing, and output (something it reports or does). In line with this construction is the idiomatic term “GIGO”—Garbage in, garbage out. In other words, a computer will be limited by what goes in to be processed. And the output will never be any better than the input, thus “GIGO.” That is easy to comprehend in the case of a machine. 

But how about our self-understanding? The same involvements apply. If the mental construction of ourselves (fabricated from our perceived experiences) is garbage, then the thoughts about ourselves will likewise be garbage, and nobody wishes to think of themselves as garbage. All of us have a deeply held desire to be better than garbage—so we construct an imaginary self-image; an ego if you will, which in ancient languages across the entire world meant, and still means, “I.” And when anyone imagines themselves, they further imagine they are separate and apart from other “I’s.” We naturally perceive differences, only. Why? Because everything that can be perceived is different and seemingly incomplete. Nobody can perceive what is non-different (e.g., united and complete).
 

And for the most part, that imaginary construction of our selves is far less than who we are truly. But we are limited (just as a computer is) to our input. It is utterly accurate to say that what is imagined (in any way; self or otherwise) falls short of the truth of ourselves, which can never be perceived, in an ordinary way.
The difference between the imagined and the real is completely opposite in nature, and neither what is imagined nor real can possibly exist separate and apart from the other. 

Just as “up” is opposite from “down,” so too is the imagined opposite from the real. The imagined is constructed, by, and dependent upon, the capacities and limitations of our conditional/ perceptual tools. The real, being opposite in nature, is thus unconditional and can’t be perceived at all. And this is so because the conditional and the unconditional arise (and cease) together; they are in a sense, inseparable “Siamese-twins.” And the problem, universally, is hardly anyone has been blessed by experiencing the unconditional, always-perfect aspect of who they are, genuinely. And out of that, mismatch grows every evil known to mankind.
 

The world population does not have an identity crisis. Instead, we are having a non-identity crisis. And by that, I mean, hardly anyone has ever been blessed with experiencing the other, real side of themselves—the non-imagined, true aspect of our beingness. 

That is the crisis that all of us are presently having, and it is killing us, both figuratively and literally. The perceptual world all around us is changing at light-speed, and we are collectively going through a shedding process. 

What used to work for us, does no longer. We are being forced, by circumstances beyond our individual control, to adapt and change. We are lost and in a state of universal crisis. This is nothing new. It has been advancing upon us for a long time and is now reaching a crescendo. If we are to survive this, we must all learn how to “flatten the imaginary curve,” or we will over-tax the system, and it will crush us, suddenly and destructively.
 

Thus far, I have written a number of books on this tsunamic crisis which I will gladly send to you in PDF format, for no charge. The selections are The Other Side of Midnight—The Fundamental Principle of Polarity, The Non-Identity Crisis—The crisis that endangers our world, Impostor: Living in a world of Alternate-Facts, and More Over—Finding Your Worth Beneath Excess. All you need do is send me an email, with “Request for book” in the subject line and requesting a copy of your choice in the body, and in short order, I will respond with a PDF file copy. My email address is john.joh40@gmail.com.

The four faces of us all.

The distortions we imagine.

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

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

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

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

Earth we have a problem.

“Houston, we have a problem!” Those exact, iconic words, while capturing the essence of the situation, were not spoken by astronaut John Swigert during the Apollo 13 mission to the moon in 1970. 

On the way, the lunar landing was aborted after an oxygen tank exploded, crippling the service module upon which the command module had depended. For some harrowing times following the explosion, it seemed nearly inevitable Apollo 13 would not only never reach the moon but would instead be lost in space forever. The message was timely. The engineering ground crew on earth found a solution, and the craft, along with those on board, were saved.

Fast forward 50 years to 2020 and that same iconic message applies, only it doesn’t concern an ordinary spacecraft. Instead, it concerns our spacecraft-earth, and we too have a problem. There is no ground crew of engineers, separate and apart from our craft since we are already on the ground, and there is nobody but us to fix our problem. And what’s the problem? We have created a use-it-and-lose-it, planned obsolescent, throw-away society and are paying the inevitable price. 

Our military is an anomaly: Our warriors are expendable, are supposed to die a death of glory and valor, so as to justify and further promote wars for the sole purpose of filling the pockets of the war-mongers. And that requires greater and ever greater numbers of the treasures of our youth, along with the myth of nobility and honor, yet not become a liability to society, as costly veterans. And rather than having a Department of Defense, we have thrown that away also, and put in its place a Department of Offense which no longer fights a foreign foe, but instead, wages war on our countries own people, thus turning our country into a population divided along the lines of ultra-rightwing fascists vs. ultra-leftwing socialists; 

Our parents (and now those of us who are nearing the end) are an anomaly—We were not supposed to live as long when the Social Security System was established. We, too, are now an unaffordable social liability, which given current political ideology, must be cast adrift to save those we produced, many of whom have become despicable reminders of our own selfishness—the nut not falling far from the tree. 

We take pleasure—that vaporizes with every rising sun—in what is unwrapped but are suffocated by the tossed away wrappings. We enjoy luxuries never even imagined in previous centuries. Yet, we are breathing in toxic fumes; roasting in unbearable heat; can’t drink the out-of-the-tap water that may poison us; living in the residue of devastating hurricanes and floods, which require massive amounts of new capital—at a point in time when our financials reserves have been depleted to the point of zero—to repair, and improve lost infrastructure, to meet an ever-growing threat, that we cause ourselves; 

Combatting diseases with a diminishing supply of antibiotics, that will be made by companies run by those who desire, and enshrine, maximum profits at the expense of lives; 

Selfishly spreading a virus because we have lost a sense of the value for others but instead value only ourselves—all these, and more, residues of manufacturing to meet the demand that stems from too many consumers living with such luxuries, which never quench their greed, leaves them with a sense of despair, and the throw-away products they have produced, do not fill their felt sense of emptiness. 

We made a bargain with the devil and love one side of the bargain but hate the other side. In our inability to look at the consequences of our choices we have created a monster scenario of us destroying us. We are no longer human citizens but rather exclusively in-human consumers—using and throwing away.

We are like the insurance salesman in The Truman Show who discovers his entire life is actually a television show, yet we have not discovered our charade. Instead, we remain proud, unaware, never satisfied, selfishly ungrateful, and inclined to throw a parade to celebrate our genius, but be sure it does not last too long, for fear we will be late for watching a favorite movie (which we have seen ad—infinitum to the point of utter boredom) or our favorite reality TV show, with casts of robotic-idiots, acting in roles of archetypal halfwits, as role-models for the ready-to-be-hooked fish who love the taste of snakeoil.

We have collectively become nothing more than that reality TV show with a reality TV show host as our leader. We have forgotten who we are and have not heeded the advice of the Dalai Lama: “Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.” There is no “them.” There is only “us,” and we are destroying ourselves, all by ourselves. In the wisdom of Pogo: We have met the enemy and he is us.

Selling snowballs to Eskimos

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

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

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

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

Fundamentally, that is what commercial life is all about: nothing more. Virtually from birth onwards to the grave, we are being sold a bill of goods about being inadequate. We are Eskimos with plenty of snowballs but are being duped into believing that we need more. If you want to put that into a spiritual context, try this on for size: “Like one in water crying, ‘I thirst!’ Like the son of a rich man wandering poor on this earth we endlessly circle the six worlds.” 

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

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

Life, taxes and death.

According to Ben Franklin, nothing is more certain than death and taxes. I would add to that list one more: Life. And while it may seem that life and death are not directly related, hopefully, by the time you finish reading this post, that opinion will fall flat.

Have you ever considered what would occur if we didn’t pass from mortality into immortality? All mortal things are conditional. As such they are born, grow, eventually die, and are conditioned by the very nature of being objective entities, whether humans, any sentient being or for that matter; anything (e,g., plants, insects, other animals, etc.) In psychological terms, two factors determine how a human life turns out: Nature (what everyone is born with) and nurture (e.g., circumstances or conditions to which we are all exposed). 

All mortal things go through the same process of birth, growth, and death. If this were not so (e.g., never die, mortally), not only would we humans be standing on each other’s head, with the ancient on the bottom and the babies on top, but there would be no regeneration of anything. 

Mortality is fleeting, and by design is conditional. In The Diamond Sutra, The Buddha taught: “All conditioned dharmas (e.g., phenomena) are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, or shadows; Like drops of dew, or flashes of lightning; Thusly should they be contemplated.” Likewise, Bodhidharma (the father of Zen) taught: “As mortals, we’re ruled by conditions, not by ourselves.”

Mortal death is essential to continuing immortal life. Yet it is among the last things we want to talk about. Consequently, when the unavoidable inevitability occurs, the living are left with a mess to sort out. That’s the nature of mortality—in the end, a conditional mess (and often before the end). 

That part is beyond dispute. It is easy to understand and doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with spirituality because mortality is something tangibly perceptible, and we are all mortals. But some question anything imperceptible; that can’t be measured because they regard themselves as logical and scientific.

The nature of immortality is another matter. It isn’t born, it never grows and never dies. Immortality is not perceptible, it isn’t measurable, is eternal and is the unconditional, authentic nature of you and me. This delineation between what passes away and what doesn’t is not limited to Buddhism. It is a spiritual principle in Christianity as well. Several passages in the Bible address this. But here is just one:

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly, we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.”—2 Corinthians 4:16

But there is a difference. A fundamental teaching of Buddhism (that doesn’t appear in Christianity) is dependent origination, and this principle is likewise easy to grasp. It, too, is beyond dispute. Consider an easy example: “up” and “down.” These are two ends of the same stick. They come into existence as opposite pairs, and they disappear together. Neither can exist separate and apart from the other. And this fundamental is true of all things. Everything has an opposite that enables existence and defines another thing. That’s an easy matter to understand. 

What seems hard to understand is the extension of the same principle, such as conditional/unconditional or mortal life/immortal life. These also enable mortal existence and mortal non-existence (otherwise known as immortality). So if this is so, (and it is), why do we concern ourselves with just the tangible/conditional (which we know passes away) but pay little attention, if any attention, to what does not pass away? It’s a logical contradiction, but one most people live with, along with taxes.

Who are we? A view from linguistics.

Who Dat?

Our sense of who and what we are determines how we relate to the world. In a prior post, I stuck a little toe into the great sea of language to illustrate a point of significance regarding the matter of identity. Today I want to further the discussion by beginning with Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (26 November 1857—22 February 1913). He is known as the founding father of semiotics—the study of signs and symbols as elements of communication behavior. 

His concept of the related chain of sign/signifier/signified/referent forms the core of this field of study. In brief, Saussure noted that something signified (an objective thing) is represented with a sign (a coded language form) by a signifier (a person) in terms of references to the thing. For example, the color black (a thing) must have a reference or contrast to something different from black (perhaps the color white) to be signified or detected. Once signified in a differentiated way from the referent, the signifier can then create a sign (the word “black”) to represent what has been signified.

If there is nothing signified, the entire language chain collapses since a sign can’t be established. We can’t create a language form other than to sign what is missing. For example, if there is nothing to be signified the best we can do is to create a sign called no-thing or nothing, to signify the lack of a thing. Since nothing is signified, the validity of a signifier is brought into question. Then we would have a no-signifier. In essence, the principle of signifier and signified must come and go together in matching cases. Nothing signified, no signifier. Something signified, signifier. That awareness is the beginning of language and communications and broadly acknowledged throughout the realm of linguistics.

This chain is quite similar to the Zen chain of causation in the following way: thing, thought, thinker; No-thing, no thought, no thinker. To remove any one of these, causes the chain to collapse. For example, a thinker only has meaning in reference to what a thinker does: thinks. If there is no thinking then the meaning of thinker is meaningless. Remove a thing and there is nothing (no-thing) and thus no thought. The central Zen question concerns the identity of “thinker.” Is a thinker who we imagine our self to be? The ordinary presumption is yes: we are a thinker who thinks thoughts. Rene Descarte established this seeming fact with his now famous, “I think therefore I am.” But this is an impossibility since when we stop thinking we don’t disappear even though the thinker does, thus the real us and a coming-and-going thinker must be two different entities.

What Saussure brought to the realm of language formation, Zen brings to the realm of identity formation. And the conclusion of Zen is that we—the true you and me are independent of a vacillating signifier/sign we call ego. Our true identity is solid and doesn’t move, because while things change, the referent is no change since we are not an objective thing. Instead, we are a subjective non-thing. And how is this awareness established? Through the Zen practice of not thinking which reveals the true, never-leaving you and me. 

The image of us (an objective sign) is meaningless without something signified (an objective thought), thus there is no signifier, which is a central premise of Zen: no-self (at least in an objective sign form). Our true non-sign self arises when there is no thought. We are the one signifying the lack of thought as well as the presence of thought. We see either the presence or the absence of thought and it takes both signified thought in reference to no thought for either to have meaning and this is true of all things, which must have a referent of difference to be signified. In physics, that principle is called relativity, and in Buddhism, it’s called dependent origination.

In the end, the self/no self-referent reveals the interconnected fabric of us. The sign (objective self-image/ego) can be seen to move and gyrate and the real us (no-self) never moves, and this, in turn, reveals a fabricated and discriminate mind (thoughts and emotions) and a real not-to-be-found indiscriminate true mind. The first is based on changing objective conditions/things (and is thus not substantial) and the second is based on the lack of objective things, which is unconditional and therefore substantial. 

Consequently, we are both real unconditionally and not real (based on objective conditions) at the same time. One part is born, grows big (unfortunately too big some times), decays and dies. The other part (the real us) is never born, doesn’t decay and lives forever. Unfortunately, the common-coin self-understanding is just the objective sign/symbol, which we label ego and unless we go to extraordinary means we rarely discover the real person that we are.

The true you and me.

The Ancient Greek aphorism to “know thyself” is familiar even today. Most people throughout time and place believe they know themselves and can go to great length to describe their attributes, personality characteristics, along with strengths and weaknesses. Of course, as we age our comfort with these definitions changes and we seem to have an evolving self that morphs as the world changes around us. In that sense we seem lost to the vagaries of life, and are like sponges, soaking up the dimensions of our conditional world and that method is the standard way of “knowing ourselves.”

There is, however, another way of coming to self-understanding that was articulated by The Buddha in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra. The dialogue in this sūtra is between The Buddha and his cousin, Ananda. And one of the principal teachings in the sūtra concerns this alternative way of knowing. In the process of the ensuing conversation, The Buddha identifies two types of minds; one that leads to unending suffering and the other that leads to genuine self-understanding. Here is what is said:

“The Buddha then compounds his cousin’s confusion by stating that there are fundamentally two kinds of mind:

Ananda, what are the two fundamentals? 

1. The first is the mind that is the basis of death and rebirth and has continued for the entirety of time, which has no beginning. This mind is dependent upon perceived objects, and it is this that you and all beings make use of and that each of you considers to be your own nature.
2. The second fundamental is enlightenment, which has no beginning; it is the original and pure essence of nirvana. It is the original understanding, the real nature of consciousness. All conditioned phenomena arise from it, and yet it is among those phenomena that beings lose track of it. They have lost track of this fundamental understanding, though it is active in them all day long, and because they remain unaware of it, they make the mistake of entering the various destinies.”

Unfortunately, even in the present day, we misunderstand  “mind” as the first and this leads to all the suffering of the world. And the second is the one the vast majority of humanity has missed. The obvious conclusion to this observation is that the solution to our contemporary troubles must begin with a proper grasp of our true mind, because we are prone to understand ourselves and others in the same fashion as this first kind of mind understands anything: as mutually discreet, perceived objects, all different with no connective spiritual tissue, only. Beneath our bodily form lies our true spiritual nature which never dies and is connected to all.

Right, wrong and the realm of harmony.

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

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

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

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

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

Lessons from a hurricane—The great paradox.

Things are not as they appear, nor are they otherwise.

Complacency and apathy are indeed comfortable. These attitudes lull us into the illusion that all is well when the wolf is near our door. Disasters may fall upon others but not us. Just when we think all is well, the storm of change comes upon us. 

We so wanted the security of eternal bliss, but it rushes suddenly away like a hurricane through our fingers, ripping our pleasure apart and leaves us with a devastated spirit. All spiritual traditions address this looming catastrophe, yet we assume it won’t happen to us. In 1 Thessalonians 5, the Apostle Paul wrote,  

“…for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, ‘Peace and safety,’ destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.”

What is this “day of the Lord?” Many would argue it is the final day of reckoning when we must stand before God and be held accountable for our actions. Judgment seems to be the ultimate form of justice that will at last prevail, or so we’ve been led to believe. However, there is an alternative that is worth considering.

An aspect of being human is to think that our way alone is secure while all others are in jeopardy. There is a psychological term to explain this. It’s called either optimism or normalcy bias and is central to the nature of self-destruction. While in such a state of denial, we justify our choices because of our self-centered sensed need. Destruction is someone else’s problem, but certainly not ours. A viral pandemic will strike others, but not us. Our attitude is governed by a self-understanding that appears to keep us apart from others, secure in our sense of superiority. Today there are many who choose to live in states of denial, and they will discover too late that, contrary to belief, they are not apart. What we choose collectively affects us all, and this is made clear when amid a hurricane that indiscriminately rips everything apart. 

While in such a state of mind, we are sure that, given our sense of self as unique and special, we are above the suffering of others. But all too often, we make choices we are not proud of because we misidentify as someone unworthy, far beneath the unrealistic standards of perfection we set for ourselves. Or we may do the opposite and imagine that we alone are superior. The moment we awaken from our sleep of self-centered ignorance is our personal day of reckoning, our “day of the Lord.” At that very moment, we discover that we are no more special than anyone else, yet they and we are pure of heart. Before that moment, we lived in a state of complacency and delusion, sometimes called normal.

The very first of the Buddha’s Four Nobel Truths explains the nature of suffering, and it has three aspects:

• The obvious suffering of physical and mental illness, growing old, and dying;

• The anxiety or stress of trying to hold onto things that are constantly changing; and,

• A subtle dissatisfaction pervading all forms of life, because all forms are impermanent and constantly changing.

The second of his truths is that the origin of suffering is craving, conditioned by ignorance of the true nature of things (most particularly ourselves). The third truth is that the complete cessation of suffering is possible when we unveil this true nature, but to do that, we must first let go of what we previously thought. And the final truth is the way to this awakening: the Eight Fold Path. What we discover along this path to a higher level of consciousness is the same driving force of suffering that moves us out of ignorance and towards awakening: the first truth. It is both the cause and the compelling force of change. 

“Things are not always as they seem; the first appearance deceives many.”—Phaedrus, circa 15 BCE

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