david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) (12/18/90)
In article <4542@idunno.Princeton.EDU> elturner@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Edwin L Turner) writes: [An extension of our discussion of the relationship between Buddhism and violence.] It seems to me that there is really too much going on in this discussion for a single thread so I am going to break up my response into several new threads. Here, I will discuss the attitude of Buddhism toward the question of the reality of the phenomenal world. In a later posting, I will talk about the specific question of the reality of suffering. Finally, I hope to produce a posting on the question of whether or not Buddhism has an "essence" that can be seen as purely transcendental. The exchange began when Ed wrote: >> 1) Buddhism does not consider violence (or anything else) wrong >> or bad in principle ("mindless killing" takes on a new >> meaning within a zen vocabulary). I replied: >This is simply not true. Buddhism considers anything that >increases the suffering of sentient beings evil and has always >opposed violence as a primary source of suffering, both for the >victims and the perpetrators (assuming the action of the law of >karma). Ed replied My understanding is that "the suffering of sentient beings" is not evil; rather it is illusion, a dream, yet another aspect of the clouds of Maya. The goal of Buddhism is to escape the illusion by awakening; to get caught up in trying to control/modify/judge the dream is just the desire/attachment which chains us to it. This is the most standard and basic Buddhist philosophy and is essentially what is expressed in my .sig below, a quote often said to capture the essence of the Buddha's teachings. . . . . . . . . Ed Turner "Suffering alone exists, none who suffer; phoenix!elturner The deed there is, but no doer thereof; Nirvana is, but no one seeking it; The Path there is, but none who travel it." or elturner@phoenix.Princeton.EDU - The Visuddhimagga (16) The notion that Buddhism teaches that suffering, or other aspects of observable reality, are "illusions" is a very serious (but very common) misreading of Buddhist teaching. It seems to arise in part from a confusion of Buddhism with certain forms of Brahminism. For example, I have never seen any reference to the "veil of Maya" in any Buddhist sutra, although many people seem to think that the concept is a part of Buddhism. Ironically, the quote in Ed's signature directly contradicts his conclusion. It says quite clearly that suffering -- along with actions, nirvana, and the path -- exists. The quote is really just a restatement of the fundamental Buddhist doctrine of anatta -- the teaching that there is nothing in a human being (or anything else) that corresponds to a "self" or "essence". What Buddhism *does* teach is that our picture of the phenomenal world is fundamentally distorted by our ingrained habit of grasping. This grasping is not just the kind of gross behavior visible as, for example, greed. Rather, it is a property of our most basic mental processes. It is traditionally held to come in to play around or just after the point where we first become aware of something. In other words, it follows right on the heels of each momentary perception that we have. Thus, things are not as we think they are not because our senses are deceiving us but because our habit of grasping distorts the picture that we have of the world and what it contains. One particular distortion caused by this habit of grasping is that we tend to see things as being more substantial, solid, and permanent then they really are -- the better to grasp and hold them. In other words, we fail to see the impermanence of the phenomenal world. Another way that our view of the world is distorted by our habit of grasping is that we tend to think that if we can just get hold of the thing that we are trying to grasp *right now*, then we will be happy. Of course, once we get the thing that we are trying to grasp *right now*, we will start hankering after something else. We fail to see the inherently limited ability of the things that we grasp to make us happy. A somewhat less obvious (but really more important) consequence of our habit of grasping is that we tend to see things as having an "essence", a "heart", that can be grasped. In particular, we come to believe that *we* have an essence, a "self", some part of us that is our true heart, our true being. Now, in the course of ordinary life, it is necessary to "grasp" many things, both physically and mentally. In this context, it is often convenient or even necessary to regard some property of an object or situation as "essential". Indeed, this is the most common colloquial use of the English word that I just quoted. Clearly, such "essences" have no absolute or ultimate reality. In particular, they have a tendency to change when we need to approach the object or situation in a different way. In other words, even though we think that what we are taking as "essential" is an absolute or inherent property of the object, in reality it is a contigent property of our current (basically practical) relationship to the object. In psychological terms, we might say that what is wrong with our approach to the world has two aspects: an affective aspect, grasping; and a cognitive aspect, principally a belief in "essences". Although refuting the cognitive error is clearly not going to solve the problem on its own, doing this can be a valuable *aid* to curing our habitually misdirected approach to the world. This is precisely the purpose of the many statements in the Buddhist literature that are sometimes misinterpreted to be saying that the phenomenal world is somehow illusory or nonexistent. When the sutras say that "the sentient beings are not really sentient beings," they are not saying that the sentient beings are not there at all. Rather, they are saying that the sentient beings are not what we take them to be. In particular, *we* are not what we take *ourselves* to be. This is worth repeating: WE ARE NOT WHAT WE THINK WE ARE. I can't think of a more important insight in the whole of Buddhism. I found this conclusion increasingly evident and inescapable pretty early in my practice of zazen: "Good Heavens, I really am *not* what I thought I was." When the emperor asked Bodhidharma, "Who are you?" Bodhidharma replied, "I don't know." Do *you* know who *you* are? Lin-chi (Rinzai) said, "No man, but causation." There is no human being, only a chain of causation. The old man (who was really a fox) said to Pai-chang (Hakujo), "I am not a human being." Indeed, are any of us "human beings"? As for me, I think that this is "unreality" enough to last me for a lifetime. NOTES 1. In Buddhist literature, one often finds references or allusions to the "three signs (or marks) of being". These are: 1. "dukkha", usually translated "suffering" but more properly "unsatisfactoriness" or even "stress"; 2. "anicca", meaning "impermanence", and; 3. "anatta", translated "no-self" or "not-self". The first two are taken to be characteristic of all "samkhara" (conditioned things) while the third is characteristic of all "dhamma", that is, of all things whatsoever. This includes, in addition to conditioned things, the "unconditioned", that is, nirvana. 2. As Ed seems to be saying, somewhat indirectly, the teaching of anatta ("no-self" or "not-self") is frequently presented as the "core" or "heart" of Buddhism. I am not sure that I would go this far. It should be clear from the discussion above that I am likely to be suspicious of a claim to present the "essence" of Buddhism (or of anything else). Nevertheless the teaching of anatta is clearly central to Buddhism and is certainly its most distinctive feature. Theravadin Buddhism emphasizes anatta as its most important teaching. The concept is even more important (if that is possible) in Mahayana in the form of the doctrine of "shunyata" (emptiness). That shunyata is essentially (:-)) the same as anatta is stated explicitly by Nagarjuna, who first promulgated the doctrine of shunyata about 2000 years ago (I am not sure about the reference). That this is a fundamental point of agreement between Theravada and Mahayana is pointed out by the Theravadin monk Walpola Rahula in "What the Buddha Taught" in the chapter on anatta. 3. I have included the quotations from Zen sources partly to show how Zen takes basic Buddhist teachings and presents them in its own distinctive and very effective style. It has been my experience that, most of the time, what the Zen masters are saying is just basic Buddhism. Generally, I think that if one wants to understand what the Zen masters are saying, one needs to approach them through Buddhism. Trying to go the other way -- trying to understand Buddhism through Zen -- seems to result mostly in missing the point. Bodhidharma's "I don't know," is a very famous Zen story that is probably well known to almost every student of Zen. I think that the meaning, on this level, is fairly clear. The quote from Lin-chi is less well known. I don't know a reference off-hand but it should be findable in any good book about Lin-chi's teachings. Its meaning is, I think, even clearer than Bodhidharma's "I don't know," especially when one realizes that Lin-chi is alluding to the "chain of conditioned origination" of Buddhist psychology (Abhidharma). "I am not a human being," is from "Hyakujo's fox", the second koan in the Wu-men kuan (Mumonkan). I certainly don't want to claim to understand this koan on even the most superficial level. It is unusually long and eerily evocative and is reputed to be very difficult and "advanced". It has also served, I have been told, as a nearly bottomless source for commentaries. That said, I have it on good authority that the phrase that I have quoted is the "key" or "gateway" to the koan and this much seems clear to me. Certainly, if the old man is not a human being it is hard to see what he is doing listening to a Zen master's talks and asking him questions. Conversely, if he *is* a human being then it is hard to see what his problem is. Thus, we are naturally led to the question, "What is a human being?", and then to this question in its most intimate form, "What is *this* human being (right here)?". I don't mean to imply that this is *the* point of the koan -- only that the koan is clearly raising this question. -- David Sigeti david@star2.cm.utexas.edu cmhl265@hermes.chpc.utexas.edu
tp0x+@CS.CMU.EDU (Thomas Price) (12/20/90)
In article <1990Dec18.004932.9293@nas.nasa.gov> david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) writes: > >In article <4542@idunno.Princeton.EDU> >elturner@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Edwin L Turner) writes: > > [An extension of our discussion of the relationship between > Buddhism and violence.] > >The exchange began when Ed wrote: > > >> 1) Buddhism does not consider violence (or anything else) wrong > >> or bad in principle ("mindless killing" takes on a new > >> meaning within a zen vocabulary). > >I replied: > > >This is simply not true. Buddhism considers anything that > >increases the suffering of sentient beings evil and has always > >opposed violence as a primary source of suffering, both for the > >victims and the perpetrators (assuming the action of the law of > >karma). > >David Sigeti david@star2.cm.utexas.edu cmhl265@hermes.chpc.utexas.edu I have a question which I would like someone to answer for me. I am a Christian who admires Zen. I believe that a large part of the history of Zen in Japan is its reception by the Samurai class? How does one explain the influence of Zen on the samurai, if suffering is evil? How can one be a Buddhist and a warrior? I suspect that one may make a parallel with "Christian Knights and Crusaders". I would respond that Knights and Crusaders were deluded blasphemers and not worthy of the name of Christian, and you may say something similar. But what of the element of military discipline in some practice of Zen, i.e. "Zen and the art of Archery"? Please give me a historical understanding of the relationship between Zen and the warrior class in historical Japan, rather than telling me what is "truly Buddhism" (although I would appreciate such subjective comments at the end of any article). Thank you, Tom Price tp0x@cs.cmu.edu Disclaimer: (You've got to be careful what I mean vs. what I say. -- Bill McCracken)
david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) (12/20/90)
In article <1990Dec18.184453.16768@noose.ecn.purdue.edu> muttiah@maize.ecn.purdue.edu (Ranjan S Muttiah) writes: In article <1990Dec18.004932.9293@nas.nasa.gov> david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) writes: [I have added two paragraphs of context. Ranjan quoted just the sentence with the capitalized phrase. DES] In psychological terms, we might say that what is wrong with our approach to the world has two aspects: an affective aspect, grasping; and a cognitive aspect, principally a belief in "essences". Although refuting the cognitive error is clearly not going to solve the problem on its own, doing this can be a valuable *aid* to curing our habitually misdirected approach to the world. This is precisely the purpose of the many statements in the Buddhist literature that are sometimes misinterpreted to be saying that the phenomenal world is somehow illusory or nonexistent. When the sutras say that "the sentient beings are not really sentient beings," they are not saying that the sentient beings are not there at all. Rather, they are saying that the sentient beings are not what we take them to be. In particular, *we* are not what we take *ourselves* to be. This is worth repeating: WE ARE NOT WHAT WE THINK WE ARE [*]. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I can't think of a more important insight in the whole of Buddhism. I found this conclusion increasingly evident and inescapable pretty early in my practice of zazen: "Good Heavens, I really am *not* what I thought I was." When the emperor asked Bodhidharma, "Who are you?" Bodhidharma replied, "I don't know." Do *you* know who *you* are? Lin-chi (Rinzai) said, "No man, but causation." There is no human being, only a chain of causation. The old man (who was really a fox) said to Pai-chang (Hakujo), "I am not a human being." Indeed, are any of us "human beings"? So say we reach some stage of attainment (whatever that is) say this follows from [*]. Then we discover that the method of that attainment itself was flawed by [*]. Thus [*] is self contradictory. Is this QEA or QED ? This is a very perceptive observation and it goes right to the heart of what I was trying to say in the capitalized phrase. Each of us continually takes herself to be *something*. Sometimes it is a location in space, sometimes a part of the body (often a spot between and just behind the eyes). Sometimes we ruminate and take ourselves to be our stream of thoughts. We may meditate and take ourselves to be a point of (supposedly) pure awareness. But always *something*. Of course, the problem is that this *something* is constantly shifting. Not only is the thing that we take ourselves to be itself changing constantly, but we ourselves are constantly shifting our point of view, constantly changing what it is that we think we are. The sensible conclusion is, of course, that we really aren't anything at all. It is characteristic of the Pali suttas that they simply state this conclusion baldly -- "All things are without self (anatta)". This method has many virtues, especially if one is attempting to *found* a new religion/philosophy. The problem comes when one attempts to *practice* the philosophy. Then the abstract nature of doctrine becomes a major problem. To say abstractly that "there is no self," already presupposes (or creates) a distance from the immediate experience that the statement seeks to affirm. The Mahayana sutras attempt to deal with this problem by enumerating endlessly the things that we aren't, thus bringing the reader closer to seeing that she is not anything at all. The Zen masters were even more direct, pointing directly to this very experience of "not being anything". The old man (who is really a fox) has gotten far enough to see clearly that he is not a "human being". Bodhidharma really *doesn't* know who he (or anyone else) is. -- David Sigeti david@star2.cm.utexas.edu cmhl265@hermes.chpc.utexas.edu
david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) (12/22/90)
In article <1990Dec21.224123.27840@noose.ecn.purdue.edu> muttiah@stable.ecn.purdue.edu (Ranjan S Muttiah) writes: In article <1990Dec20.012217.6422@nas.nasa.gov> david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) writes: >In article <1990Dec18.184453.16768@noose.ecn.purdue.edu> >muttiah@maize.ecn.purdue.edu (Ranjan S Muttiah) writes: > > In article <1990Dec18.004932.9293@nas.nasa.gov> > david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) writes: > This is worth repeating: WE ARE NOT WHAT WE THINK WE ARE [*]. > ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ > I can't think of a more important insight in the whole of > Buddhism. I found this conclusion increasingly evident and > inescapable pretty early in my practice of zazen: "Good > Heavens, I really am *not* what I thought I was." When the > emperor asked Bodhidharma, "Who are you?" Bodhidharma > replied, "I don't know." Do *you* know who *you* are? > Lin-chi (Rinzai) said, "No man, but causation." There is no > human being, only a chain of causation. The old man (who > was really a fox) said to Pai-chang (Hakujo), "I am not a > human being." Indeed, are any of us "human beings"? > So say we reach some stage of attainment (whatever that is) say > this follows from [*]. Then we discover that the method of > that attainment itself was flawed by [*]. Thus [*] is self > contradictory. > > Is this QEA or QED ? > >Each of us continually takes herself to be *something*. ... >Of course, the problem is that this *something* is constantly >shifting. Not only is the thing that we take ourselves to be >itself changing constantly, but we ourselves are constantly >shifting our point of view, constantly changing what it is >that we think we are. > >The sensible conclusion is, of course, that we really aren't >^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ >anything at all. It is characteristic of the Pali suttas that >they simply state this conclusion baldly -- "All things are >without self (anatta)". David, I'm not sure whether you are understanding what I was trying to say here. Let me ask you, how did you or any of these other so called "masters" arrive at this conclusion. Buddhism seems to reject things out of hand, but on what basis? I really don't know what people seem to be talking about in this instance. It seems to be about almost nothing. Here's a sample conversation: A: B you nut, nothing is real and you aren't yourself. B: Give me a break A. What the f*&^ are you talking about? You use vague spoken words and you are telling me I'm not what I am? Grow up and go see a shrink. A: No really, I just know that we aren't what we think we are. B: Ok, I'll play by your game and debunk whatever it is that you are hand waving about. So you say that you want to reach a stage whereby you reach some state wherein everything is rejected including the "soul." But then since you are into this rejection ball game then you also HAVE TO REJECT THIS METHOD OF REJECTION ITSELF. Thus your whole program is flawed B. In a similar light it is easy to disprove this whole Godel theorem. Just codify in the language of the model the statement, "This proof is invalid" and you will see. A: oh, sh&^. I didn't see that coming, what religion did you say you were into? I think that I should begin by trying to clear up some possible misunderstandings. Firstly, please, *please* don't get the impression that I am trying to present myself as some kind of "Zen master" or Buddhist teacher. I'm hardly even a student! All I am trying to do is present some of what I have learned in my reading on Buddhism and maybe a little of what I have learned from the practice of Buddhist meditation. I really don't think that this gives me some special knowledge that makes me better than other people. If anything, it has made me more aware of my faults. It certainly isn't the purpose of Buddhist meditation to give its practitioners excuses to feel superior to other people and that isn't why I took it up. If, after reflecting seriously on what I have written, you feel that this is what I am doing, please feel free to let me know. Even if your impression is a mistaken one, I would still want to know how you felt. Secondly, *please* don't get the idea that I am presuming to tell you what you do or do not know. That is why I use the first person plural in my writing. If you don't feel that what I am saying applies to you, please feel free to exclude yourself from the word "we" in my articles. I hope that you don't see my writing as a personal attack. It really isn't intended that way. On the question of attacks, I suppose that it is fairly obvious that in my postings to talk.religion.misc and soc.religion.eastern, I am often trying to clear up common misconceptions about Buddhism in general and Zen in particular. Sometimes I may become a little strident on these subjects. Partly, this is because I feel that popular misrepresentations of Buddhism and Zen left me seriously misinformed about both subjects and that it took me a long time in my practice to overcome my misconceptions. When I am particularly insistent in opposing some popular idea on these subjects, it is probably because I have found the idea to be a definite barrier in my own practice. I can only ask your forbearance in realizing that sometimes it is my own demons that I am wrestling with. Finally, I thought that it would be clear from my original post that: 1. I don't believe that "nothing is real"; 2. This is not what Buddhism teaches. This was, after all, the whole point of the original post. O.K., on to your questions. The first point that I should make is that statements like "We are not what we think we are," or even "All things are without self," are not really intended as propositions or "conclusions". They are really much closer to observations -- observations about the operation of our own minds. Even the term "observations" is probably not right because the terms in the statements are almost impossible to define in the ordinary way. It might be better to say that the statements are simply pointers to a particular experience. Since these statements are really just pointers to a certain experience, it really isn't appropriate to treat them as if they were factual propositions. Russell Turpin makes this point frequently. It is only when the statements made by a philosophy/religion are intended as factual propositions (either openly or surreptitiously) that it makes sense to bring the apparatus of scientific criticism to bear on them. Russ does this very well, in part because he knows where it is appropriate and where it is not. May he return to the net soon! So how does one go about having the experience to which these statements are pointing (presuming that one wants to)? There may be people who can see into the point of these statements immediately or by means of ordinary "introspection". The famous Scottish philosopher of the 18th century, David Hume, seems to have done this to some extent. William James might be another example. For most of us, though, it seems that we have to take the route that traditional Buddhism considers essential -- we have to practice Buddhist meditation. There is fundamentally nothing mystical or mysterious about the practice of Buddhist meditation. Usually one takes the process of breathing as a "central object" of attention but, really, the practice is simply a careful observation of the operation of one's own body and mind. One attends to mental and physical phenomena as they arise without attempting to suppress random thoughts or to artificially "calm" one's mind. This is why the mental faculty that Buddhist meditation most seeks to develop is not concentration but *mindfulness*. (The central Buddhist text on meditation is entitled "The Setting Up of Mindfulness".) If you are interested in knowing more about the practice of Buddhist meditation, I can give you references to several good books. Anyway, it should be clear just from what I have written so far that the point is not to reach some "state" where one "rejects" things. There may be forms of meditation where one attempts to "reject" or "suppress" the "ego" but this is not a Buddhist practice. In Buddhist meditation, one simply tries to observe, as carefully as possible, the operation of one's own body and mind. In the course of this observation, most people come to see that there is really nothing in the body/mind process that corresponds to a "self" or "ego". Certainly, the mind in particular is a wondrously complex process, full of sensations, perceptions, emotions, and thoughts changing constantly and at almost dizzying speed. But, when observed closely and carefully, it really seems to be pretty impersonal -- maybe almost mechanical. Certainly, it is difficult to see what in it would constitute a "self". There is really nothing frightening about this realization. In fact, most people find it quite liberating. This is part of why I presented my own experience in almost frivolous terms -- "Good Heavens, I really am *not* what I thought I was." (I am speaking here of an early stage of the practice. Later on there are more likely to be problems.) As I have intimated just above, what I have described is really just the barest beginning of Buddhism (and of practice) and it certainly isn't all hearts and flowers. But this basic realization is really at the heart of the whole thing. One comes back to it again and again. This is the "beginner's mind" that Shunryu Suzuke says one must strive to keep one's whole life long. I would like to say that I really enjoyed your little dialog. You may be reluctant to believe it but I definitely found myself sympathizing more with B than A. A certainly does come off as a pompous ass. The whole little drama does a very neat job of capturing what is wrong with using one's insights as a club to beat people with. I did find B's attempt at a logical refutation of A a bit pedantic, though. In any case, I thought that A's flustered question at the end was a particularly good touch. That said, I am going to imitate him after my fashion and ask you where *you* are coming from. It would really help me to understand your postings if I had a better idea of what *you* think about this stuff. Are you and atheist, an agnostic, a Hindu, a member of another religion? I have tried to be as open as I can be about what I believe. How about you? -- David Sigeti david@star2.cm.utexas.edu cmhl265@hermes.chpc.utexas.edu
david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) (12/23/90)
In article <1990Dec22.061258.3644@noose.ecn.purdue.edu> muttiah@stable.ecn.purdue.edu (Ranjan S Muttiah) writes: In article <DAVID.90Dec21225643@star2.cm.utexas.edu> david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) writes: >[My comments deleted as not relevant to Ranjan's question] Another question that just croped is (and this is what I was trying to hit at) how one "knows" that one has reached nirvana or buddhahood or whatever ? Is it by general agreement and consent by other fellow meditators ? Traditionally, one presents one's realization to a recognized Buddhist teacher, someone who has received "dharma transmission" in some line of teachers that is believed to go back to the Buddha, and accepts her judgement. Sometimes, a teacher may withhold judgement because she feels that she needs to get a better idea of the student's level of realization. Or she may be concerned that, even though the student has had a genuine and deep realization, he may be in danger of getting some inflated sense of his own importance and abilities. This really does happen and a lot of the stories of Zen masters treating their students to all sorts of abuse involve exactly this problem (on the students' part). I suspect that people who decide entirely on their own that they are "enlightened" are in severe danger of falling into this problem in some of its most hideous forms. I think that this is probably particularly likely to be true when the person has very little zazen behind them. The discipline of meditation really can help one to see into the traps of egotism. I don't mean to imply that the various experiences and realizations that one has in the course of practice can't be clear or that one doesn't know what one has experienced. The problem is really how one integrates one's experiences and realizations into one's life. Here, a teacher or even just a fellow student can be a great help in avoiding all sorts of traps and mistakes. >In the course of this observation, most people come to see that >there is really nothing in the body/mind process that corresponds >to a "self" or "ego". Certainly, the mind in particular is a >wondrously complex process, full of sensations, perceptions, >emotions, and thoughts changing constantly and at almost dizzying >speed. But, when observed closely and carefully, it really seems >to be pretty impersonal -- maybe almost mechanical. Certainly, >it is difficult to see what in it would constitute a "self". > >There is really nothing frightening about this realization. In >fact, most people find it quite liberating. This is part of why >I presented my own experience in almost frivolous terms -- "Good >Heavens, I really am *not* what I thought I was." (I am speaking >here of an early stage of the practice. Later on there are more >likely to be problems.) And this is the part that I don't understand. When you come to this realization and find that you weren't what you were, are you also supposed to realize that *the method* by which you arrived at the observation isn't also what you thought it was supposed to be ? And if so would you find it to be false ? [That was the point of my pervious post]. Three or four years ago, I might simply have answered, "No. The method is not faulty; it is just that, by careful observation, one has seen that a certain impression that one had had was mistaken." I still think that this is true on a certain ordinary level. In one sense, one has just made a simple observation about the operation of one's own mind. As I said earlier, David Hume became one of the most important figures in Enlightenment (European, not Buddhist) philosophy on the basis of this simple observation. I also should say that this simple observation has probably been the most helpful single thing that I have gotten out of Buddhism, in terms of helping me in my ordinary life. Mind you, I don't think that it would have been terribly helpful if I had gotten this far at too early a point in my practice -- I think that the effort that I had to make in meditation was critical to the fact that the observation was actually helpful to me. Nevertheless, this kind of observation seems to sum up a lot of what I got out of Zen meditation in the earlier years of my practice. As I said in my posting, though, this kind of simple observation is just the beginning of practice. It certainly does *not* correspond to even the shallowest "kensho" (often translated as "enlightenment" but more properly "awakening"). If one continues to pursue the practice of closely observing the body/mind, a kind of contradiction *does* emerge and I think that you have intuited something of its nature. It has to do with the fact that the mind being observed is precisely the mind doing the observing. This, of course, is a problem of self-reference (as you have intuited) but on the level of direct observation, rather than on the level of intellection or conceptualization (as in mathematics). Because the problem occurs on the level of direct observation, it was, for me, very disturbing. It "got me where I live," as they say. I found myself getting into a kind of infinite regression -- the mind observing the mind observing the mind observing the mind(...). The image that comes to me when I think of this process is of a pair of nearly parallel mirrors (as you often find in dressing rooms in clothing stores) and the series of images of oneself and the room that seems to stretch off into infinity. As I said, I found this very disturbing. It left me terribly perplexed. It seemed to me to imply some fundamental question but -- practicing a simple mindfulness meditation as I was -- I found it impossible to come to grips with this question or even to get any sense of it at all. This was when I took up a "koan", one of the strange stories or sayings that Zen Buddhists sometimes use as objects for meditation. It was precisely in order to focus this perplexity into a profound questioning that koan meditation was invented by the Chinese Zen teachers during the Song dynasty. The koan that I took up was "What is this?" which can also be phrased as "What is this, right here?" or "What is this very mind?" or even just "What?" This koan allowed me to focus my perplexity into a deep process of questioning, a questioning that constantly questions the questioner itself. The questioning is not conceptual -- it is observational. It is not like asking oneself intellectually "I wonder if I am really my train of thoughts." It is more like "Am I this?" "No, that's not it. What about that over there?" "No, not that. What about this here?" It's not really frantic like this -- I just want to give the sense that the questioning is observational rather than conceptual. Of course, this little monologue doesn't involve any questioning of the questioner either so please don't take it too seriously. I don't want to try to say too much about how one "solves" such a question. I certainly don't think that I have solved "What is this?" The one thing that I think I should mention is that I have found that, in questioning the questioner, it is impossible to operate entirely on an observational level. One has to go deeper -- "closer to the hardware" in computerese. One has to begin dealing with the process of observation on an *affective* level. In particular, one has to begin dealing with the problem of *grasping*. One quickly finds that the mental process involves a kind of continual and very rapid grasping at the level of perception. But, in order to fully see into this mental process of grasping, one has to give up the grasping involved in the process that is observing the mind. Sorry about the twisted syntax -- it really *is* like the series of images in a pair of mirrors. The upshot is that the two processes, grasping and observation, are all tangled up with each other in such a way that one has to give up grasping in order to see into the mental process and one has to see into the mental process in order to give up grasping. In order to "see" one has to "let go" and in order to "let go" one has to "see". I think that this is why "enlightenment" has to be "sudden". If one is to really "solve" the problem, one has to simultaneously see into the grasping involved in one's own mental processes and give up the grasping involved in the process of seeing itself. One without the other just won't do the trick. And doing both at once is only going to happen at a single moment, a "set of co-dimension 1 in time" as a mathematician would say. I realize that all this is nowhere near as simple and straightforward as the simple process of observation that I discussed in my previous posting. I have tried to give as down- to-earth an account as I can. In any case, I doubt that anyone gets to a point like this until they have at least several years of practice behind them. It sure took me long enough! >That said, I am going to imitate him after my fashion and ask you >where *you* are coming from. It would really help me to >understand your postings if I had a better idea of what *you* >think about this stuff. Are you and atheist, an agnostic, a >Hindu, a member of another religion? I have tried to be as open >as I can be about what I believe. How about you? Here's what I think: Life is miserable; life is a challenge; <add your favorite superlative>. People sometimes refuse to take responsibilities, assuming that one isn't control of what one does (remember all those religious wars ?). Some people find a way out of this by taking on a religion. Don't get me wrong, some people do need religion, but the basis for doing so should be made evident. In my case, I learn to take charge of whatever it is that I decide to think and do; I try to make things as self evident to myself as possible. This strikes me as an excellent basis for approaching life, or for starting Zen practice. Certainly, Zen should never be a drug that we use to avoid seeing the pain and suffering of life. The only admonition that I would add is that, just as the pain and suffering is not yours alone, even so your "taking charge of whatever it is that you decide to do," and your "making things as self evident to yourself as possible," should not be for yourself alone. Several times each day, Zen monks take the "Four Bodhisattvas' Vows". The first one is "Although the beings are numberless, I vow to save them all." -- David Sigeti david@star2.cm.utexas.edu cmhl265@hermes.chpc.utexas.edu
muttiah@stable.ecn.purdue.edu (Ranjan S Muttiah) (12/31/90)
In article <DAVID.90Dec22185322@star2.cm.utexas.edu> david@star2.cm.utexas.edu (David Sigeti) writes: >In article <1990Dec22.061258.3644@noose.ecn.purdue.edu> >muttiah@stable.ecn.purdue.edu (Ranjan S Muttiah) writes: > Another question that just croped is (and this is what I was trying > to hit at) how one "knows" that one has reached nirvana or > buddhahood or whatever ? Is it by general agreement and consent by > other fellow meditators ? >Traditionally, one presents one's realization to a recognized >Buddhist teacher, someone who has received "dharma transmission" >in some line of teachers that is believed to go back to the >Buddha, and accepts her judgement. Sometimes, a teacher may >withhold judgement because she feels that she needs to get a >better idea of the student's level of realization. Or she may be >concerned that, even though the student has had a genuine and >deep realization, he may be in danger of getting some inflated >sense of his own importance and abilities. This really does >happen and a lot of the stories of Zen masters treating their >students to all sorts of abuse involve exactly this problem (on >the students' part). I have some difficulties with this, since in my opinion everyone experieces the universe and life in his or her own unique way. And it seems to me that in this tradition of consent that you intimate about one is merely giving into consent as agreed upon by others. It's much like people accepting some of the fundamental axioms of mathematics: it's a maneuver for consensus formation i.e., everyone tries to play by the same rules. >I suspect that people who decide entirely on their own that they >are "enlightened" are in severe danger of falling into this >problem in some of its most hideous forms. I think that this is >probably particularly likely to be true when the person has very >little zazen behind them. The discipline of meditation really >can help one to see into the traps of egotism. Again, if every person experiences the universe uniquely, I don't see why this egotism scenario should show up at all. >Three or four years ago, I might simply have answered, "No. The >method is not faulty; it is just that, by careful observation, >one has seen that a certain impression that one had had was >mistaken." I still think that this is true on a certain ordinary >level. In one sense, one has just made a simple observation >about the operation of one's own mind. As I said earlier, >David Hume became one of the most important figures in >Enlightenment (European, not Buddhist) philosophy on the basis of >this simple observation. I also should say that this simple The interesting thing that Hume observed was that we don't have impressions of _causality_ as we do say events. Is this supposed to be a limitation on our perceptions ? May be so, but that is why we have inferencing capabilities (via our intelligence). >my practice -- I think that the effort that I had to make in >meditation was critical to the fact that the observation was >actually helpful to me. Nevertheless, this kind of observation >seems to sum up a lot of what I got out of Zen meditation in the >earlier years of my practice. I still don't quite get it David. You say you realized that you weren't what you once were. Let's probe a little further and find out what there is in "realization" vs saying something. For instance, I can just say verbally, "I realize that I'm not Ranjan." How does one know what *exactly* is meant by this. So far all I can see is merely denial. I don't see any sort of conclusion that can be drawn from all of this. I'm more familiar with the denial tactics used for reducio ad absurdum. But you seemed to imply in one the posts that this wasn't what you were after. >mind being observed is precisely the mind doing the observing. >This, of course, is a problem of self-reference (as you have >intuited) but on the level of direct observation, rather than on >the level of intellection or conceptualization (as in >mathematics). See, I'm confused already! >-- the mind observing the mind observing the mind observing the >mind(...). The image that comes to me when I think of this >process is of a pair of nearly parallel mirrors (as you often >find in dressing rooms in clothing stores) and the series of >images of oneself and the room that seems to stretch off into >infinity. May be so. But one has to be clear about one is trying to prove or disprove. >This strikes me as an excellent basis for approaching life, or >for starting Zen practice. Certainly, Zen should never be a drug >that we use to avoid seeing the pain and suffering of life. The >only admonition that I would add is that, just as the pain and >suffering is not yours alone, even so your "taking charge of >whatever it is that you decide to do," and your "making things as >self evident to yourself as possible," should not be for yourself >alone. If one experiences the universe and life uniquely then I don't understand why one would want to consult anyone other than for consensus formation. I try to akin this to driving a vehicle. Only you alone at the wheel control which way the car turns. Of course, there are these various "rules" (i.e., laws of nature) that one has to follow in driving around. The car in my opinion has only a single seat for the driver. >Several times each day, Zen monks take the "Four >Bodhisattvas' Vows". The first one is > > "Although the beings are numberless, I vow to save them all." What are the other three ?