Ah, even the poet in lovely verse
sees the death in the external world.
With even a certain sad beauty,
he watches the flowers wither and fall.
But to see my own death
in each moment of my living
requires a deep hard looking,
a silent slow feeling,
a calm descending
through the quiet pool
in the delightful garden
deep down
into the wells of pain and fear
collected over the ages.
Ever noticed how similar Vedic philosophy can sound to the Buddha-dharma?
Partly because Gautama lived and thought within the Hindu tradition, and partly because Hinduism’s inclusive dynamic has plowed much of Buddha’s teaching back into its own modern expressions, much of what shows up in popular Yoga magazines and other current Vedic writing seems to be right in line with what we think of as the Dhamma, in the sense of the teachings of Buddha.
Recently however, reading an article in the May issue of Yoga Journal - about the only magazine I read these days - I came across a line that made it very clear where the two traditions diverge. In the article, “Help Wanted” by Phil Catalfo, which focuses on dealing with stress that comes from changes at work, there’s this sentence:
“This, of course, is the great yogic principle of impermanence: Jobs change, relationships change; in this life, everything changes except the Self, your pure consciousness.”
Of course, in the Buddha’s teachings, everything, especially ‘the Self’, is seen as impermanent. In Vedic teaching, atman - the soul or self - is a permanent entity that moves from life to life in the samsaric round, reincarnated over and over in different bodies until it accumulates enough good karma to break out of this round and move into nirvana.
Buddha specifically taught the principle of anyatta, or no-self, and said that in rebirth (a slightly different concept than reincarnation) nothing passes to the next life except the karma.
And this seemingly small detail makes a world of difference. I can’t speak for others, but I know quite clearly that for me, it’s that notion of ’self’ that is the source of all the problems. My deeply conditioned belief in that self’s reality, my pathetic and desperate attempts to reify it, my attachment to that constructed self and its preferences, all combine to drive the most selfish, greedy, grasping aspects of my behavior.
However cleverly I manipulate the other aspects of my life, however “enlightened” or liberated my concepts regarding other things may be, however moral and well-intentioned my actions are, as long as I cling to that notion that there’s a ‘me’ in there who can benefit from all these wonderful things I’m doing, true liberation will elude me.
I may become very calm and happy, and appear very good and kind as I release all the dualities that plague us, but true liberation will not be possible until I am able to let go of the dualism of self and other.
I am deeply grateful to the Buddha Gautama for realizing that truth, and for all the students and teachers who passed it down to us today. Thus have I heard.
Sadhu, sadhu, sadhu!
This is an essay I wrote for the Atlanta Soto Zen Center interactive site (now defunct). I am working on a re-write of it in light of my Vipassana practice and the Vipassana Research Institute translation of the Sattipatthana Sutta, which addresses the same ideas as the Anapannasati Sutta referenced here. I would love to have comments and suggestions about these ideas to deepen my understanding and help me with the re-write. Also if you have writings or drafts or even just more extensive thoughts than appropriate for comments, send them to me and we’ll do a guest post.
– J. Eden, 08/27/2009
True Practice
9/19/04
What is true practice?
Buddhist practices are many and varied. In Zen we consider sitting to be primary, but include walking and chanting as secondary practices, along with minor use of other practices, such as bowing. In other sects there is more emphasis on chanting and prostration. Mindfulness is much emphasized in the Theravada sects, and may be considered a separate practice, or may be seen as the aim or fruit of all the practices.
As I search for true practice for myself, I realize more and more that whatever my spiritual aspirations and personal practices may be, mindfulness in daily living is an essential aspect of the lived experience of Buddhism. It is the point where my personal spiritual practice touches the social realm, the world of others. In light of the Buddha’s emphasis on compassion, how I live my life must be of concern. Although we avoid the gaining idea of practicing “for” self-improvement, if our practice is not making us better spouses, siblings, friends, co-workers, citizens, and world-dwellers, then something is probably wrong with the practice. If my hour of sitting is an hour of enlightenment, then my interaction with the others of the world will show it. If my morning vows are heartfelt and genuine, they will influence how I act as I go through my day.
So, it seems one measure of a true practice is that it would make things better for others as well as for me. Certainly it must be one that could be universally applied; i.e., it must be a practice which, if followed by all, would bring the social realm into greater harmony. Our practice is not about the kind of “living well” that seems to be the moral compass for most of those around us – a compass that points only to the good for me, regardless of the cost to others less fortunate, less aggressive, less cunning.
As Buddhists, as humans, we must realize that there are no individual solutions.
As I look for teachings that will help me actualize my practice in daily life, things that will help me follow through on my morning vows to pursue compassion and put others before self, I find several sources that point to awareness of arising thought-emotions as primary – what Buddhists text translations usually refer to as “mental formations.” As I understand the term, a mental formation is roughly what we might refer to as an emotion, and is probably best described as a thought that has feelings attached. You can think about your shopping list or what to wear to work today without too much emotional involvement, but many thoughts come with the extra baggage of anxiety or anticipation that connects them to a feeling state, essentially chemical responses of the body to expectations of pleasure or pain. These kinds of thoughts are what Buddhism refers to as “mental formations.”
Mental formations are quite normal, natural and useful. In fact they could be regarded as just as essential to our survival as the higher intellectual processes. They are also what cause us most of our problems in dealing with other human beings. Thus, they become a focus of practice that will help us bring our practice and its aspirations into the flow of everyday life.
In a recent dharma talk, Buddhist teacher Liz Hulsizer, of A Single Thread Zen Center, spoke about Dogen Zenji’s teachings on Right Concentration. Dogen, she said, taught that Right Concentration is focusing without distraction on the teachings. If the slightest amount of like or dislike arises, Dogen says, one becomes unstable. The phrase ‘slightest amount of like or dislike’ has stuck in my mind like a mantra, and as I go about my daily life it pops up with its remarkably clarifying perspective on mental formations: “If the slightest amount or like or dislike arises, I become unstable.” There are worlds of wisdom in that deceptively simple statement.
Its depth and power become evident over time as I see its application to various situations that arise. For example: my wife asks what we want for lunch, offering the choice between a Caesar wrap and fruit with yogurt, and my daughter says, “I want a wrap.” If my preference inclines me toward the fruit, the situation becomes unstable. If I can remember “the slightest amount of like or dislike,” it helps me be aware of the dynamics of the situation. If I am attached to my preference for fruit, – which means I allow it to influence my actions – I lose concentration on the teachings and become part of a conflict that may escalate, shattering the fragile bonds of relationship that connect me with my child. If I can release my preference, the situation stays fluid and soft, lunch goes smoothly, and our communication stays open.
Similarly, in my classroom I may prefer that things remain quiet and calm, my authority unquestioned, but if I am attached to that preference, I may lose the opportunity for some of the best learning experiences by squelching healthy expression of divergent opinions among my students or alienating them. If James responds, “I’m just asking her to borrow a pencil” when I tell him to go to his desk, I may feel threatened and frustrated to hear the same tired excuse yet the thousandth time. I may snap back, “Don’t lie to me, I said go to your desk, now go to your desk immediately or I’m sending you to the office!” If James is already having a bad day, and my personal ego gets involved – Dogen’s like or dislike – this may escalate into a shouting match that further alienates James and ruins my whole day.
Each time some situation arises and I view it from Dogen’s perspective, I learn more of how my preferences make me likely to tip one way or another and unbalance things, increasing potential for conflict. Thus the principle of “the slightest like or dislike” illuminates both the personal and the social. Especially in more intense circumstances where issues of power and control come into play and the emotions are more powerful, the degree of awareness of one’s own likes and dislikes can make the difference between war and peace. Conflicts at the international level plaguing our world today are very little different from these simple scenarios. World leaders respond to challenges from other nations much like children in a schoolroom, with greatly amplified concerns about how their constituencies view them – and with greatly amplified consequences for the people of the world.
To put this “focus on the teachings” into practice in our everyday life situations, we must first of all bring to every moment of our day the same kind of attention we bring to our meditation practice, a fierce but relaxed attention that leaves nothing out, including our own mental processes. We must be aware of not only all that is going on around us but of each arising thought and the feelings attached to it, and then release that attachment so that it doesn’t control our actions. This is a very dense formulation of an extremely complex process. It may be helpful to break it down into apparent steps, even though this is an artificial structure imposed on what is a very non-linear process.
First, I must notice that I am having an emotional response to something that is happening or something someone is saying. This noticing is often in the form of awareness of bodily changes (sensations, the vedana of the 12-fold Chain): the breath, muscle tension, blood pressure, skin sensations and temperature. Then I must see the preferences, the “I like/don’t like” behind the emotion, the selfish thoughts and wants that are making me feel upset, or perhaps just leading me to take a rigid position on something. If I can identify and label or categorize those preferences, and at the same time be aware of the physical manifestations in my body and focus on them, that will help me to uncouple from the emotions so they have no power over my actions, words, or direction of thought. Then I can allow those emotions to dissolve like whipped cream on hot coffee.
In the teachings of Ajahn Chah, this is made explicit:
“Most people still don’t know the essence of meditation practice,” he says. “They think that walking meditation, sitting meditation, and listening to Dhamma talks are the practice. That’s true, too, but these are only the outer forms of practice. The real practice takes place when the mind encounters a sense object. That’s the place to practice, where sense contact occurs. When people say things we don’t like, there is a resentment; if they say things we like, we experience pleasure. Now this is the place to practice. How are we going to practice with these things? This is the crucial point. If we just run around chasing after happiness and running away from suffering, we can practice until the day we die and never see the Dhamma. When pleasure and pain arise how are we going to use the Dhamma to be free of them? This is the point of practice.” (from Food for the Heart, p. 53)
I don’t think it can be made much clearer than that: practice with your likes and dislikes. Ajahn Chah further describes practice:
“The practice of Dhamma isn’t something you have to go running around for or exhaust yourself over. Just look at the feelings that arise in your mind. When the eye sees forms, ear hears sounds, nose smells odors, and so on, they all come to this one mind: ‘the one who knows.’ Now when the mind perceives these things, what happens? If we like that object we experience pleasure; if we dislike it we experience displeasure. That’s all there is to it.”
His instructions as to how to think of these mental events are simple: “If we know the truth about them, we reflect, ‘Oh there’s nothing to this feeling of liking here. It’s just a feeling that arises and passes away. Dislike too is just a feeling that arises and passes away. Why make anything out of them?” In this way, he says, “you can practice the Dhamma every minute of the day.”
The key to this practice, which is not so simple, is in Ajahn Chah’s conditional: “If we know the truth about them.” How do we come to know the truth about these feelings and thoughts, this mind? This is truly the heart of the Buddha’s teachings, the “pure and spotless Dhamma-eye” of the Tathagata’s first sermon: “Whatsoever is an arising thing, all that is a ceasing thing.”
Though we may begin with an intellectual assent or some faith in the Buddha’s words, it is in silent meditation that one may come to direct awareness of this truth. Being told that it is the truth is not sufficient for most of us. In silent meditation, we quiet the distracting activity of the mind long enough for insight into its essential nature to arise. From those insights, those ‘seeing directly’ experiences, it becomes clear to us that all these feelings, and the mind that experiences them, are impermanent, transitory, and empty of independent existence. As Johanna Macy says, what the Buddha awoke to was pattica samupada, the dependent co-arising of all phenomena – oneness. When we awaken to that truth for ourselves, then our practice is to apply it consistently to every mental formation as it arises in the course of our daily lives.
Another Theravadan teaching, the Anapanasati – the ancient sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing – speaks of the practitioner observing thoughts and emotions, “clearly understanding his state, gone beyond all attachments and aversions to this life, with unwavering, steadfast, imperturbable meditative stability” as part of the process of coming to a perfect mindfulness which leads to “true understanding and complete liberation.”
In his book on this sutra, Vietnamese Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh (whose sutra translations I have quoted above) writes, “ As soon as any psychological phenomenon (a mental formation, cittasamskara) arises, we should breath in and out and identify it. As we continue to observe it, we can see its connection with the whole of our mind.” He describes the mind as a “river of psychological phenomena,” and suggests that identifying these phenomena as they arise is part of meditation practice. “Once our mind is able to identify what is happening, we will be able to see clearly our mental formation and make it calm. Just that will bring us peace, joy, and stillness.”
We humans seem to feel that our preferences define us and give us our distinctive personality, so we often exaggerate them and propound them enthusiastically to others. Spending time with young people often makes this achingly clear. In truth, our preferences set us up for disappointment, frustration, and anger. Getting over them, getting beyond our “attachments and aversions” is liberating because we can then accept what is actually happening to us without such resistance to problems or such grasping of pleasure – or dangerous suppression of either.
This is the middle way of the Buddha. Right Concentration, true practice. In the long run, by whatever spiritual path we arrive at these truths, it is the only way to live our lives authentically, peacefully and happily in this world of suffering. And a world of people living their lives in this way is likely the only way to universal peace and harmony.
= John Eden, Sept. 2004
The Dhamma, in the sense of the teachings of the Buddha, is the subject most interesting to me, and something I think about and am involved in much of the time. This blog is a vehicle for dialog with others interested in the subject.
The idea of the Dhamma blog is for people - me to begin with - to post things they have written or are in the process of writing or thinking about related to the Buddha Dhamma, and then for others to comment on it, in positive ways ideally, so that we all refine our ideas and understandings of the subject.
How will this work? To begin with, I will post some commentary here in hopes that readers will comment on it and a group dialog of sorts will be stimulated. This is not the ideal medium for such a project - a threaded newsgroup-type format would be better, but that’s not here at the moment, so I think this will work to see if there’s sufficient interest to warrant figuring out how to do a newsgroup -where different authors are able to post - using Wordpress or else moving it somewhere like Yahoo.
After I post the first installment, I will send out emails to people who might be interested and see who shows up. If you’re reading this and interested, please leave a comment!
I’ve added a short story, Serena and Katherine. I developed the story from a short piece I wrote during the summer intensive with Southern Writing Project several years back. It’s entirely fictional and I have no idea where it came from or what it’s about. It’s just a story. It was fun to write and I think it’s fun to read. Hope you’ll try and like it! (Would love some feedback on this….)
I’m thinking of posting some other writing here… a couple of short stories, maybe some more serious stuff - essays, probably on Buddhist topics. I’m also working on adding some pages to the book project - probably rewrites of the next Chapter of the Trip sequence.
Am hoping to get some exchange going with my dear friend L., who’s also working on a book…
The two documents I scanned in come up very large in the blog version. Can’t figure out how to control that, yet. You can scroll around and see the whole thing, but you can also click on it and it will go to the original document - opens it in the same window - and you can see the whole thing. Then you have to hit your browser’s back arrow to get back to the blog.
I included these documents just in case anyone should doubt the veracity of this story. If I could, I’d scan in the scars on my mind and remove all doubt. These will have to do.
Fall has been slow in the writing department. There have been lots of other things going on, but not much progress on the book. I have written two articles for the Golden Islander, and may do more of that, but my focus has been on Giana, the kids, the pottery, the Vipassana center… generally on ploughing through this deep, mucky section of life’s field that has come with the Fall season.
Have been considering depositing some of my other writing efforts on this blog site… some stories that I want to re-write and/or edit, maybe even some of the School is Zen stuff, which I’ve more or less abandoned hopes of finishing, could be re-cast with less sectarian tones, maybe for a general teacher audience…
Also may do some non-book related blogging here. Lots of things going on that I could drone on about. An electronic journal of sorts…
Working hard this week, got several new drafts posted. These are mostly things I had in very rough form already and have been cleaning up, organizing, revising and trying to decide how they all fit together. All center around the arrival home and going to England AFB, beginning the process of refusal.
Having some problem figuring out how to insert a scan - it’s there, but won’t scale down to right size… maybe I can get one of my genius sons to help me figure it out. I’m just a techno-challenged old man.