Tonight, a member at newbuddhist.com posted a 2003 article from Slate by John Horgan called "Why I ditched Buddhism" (which was originally titled, "Why I Can't Embrace Buddhism"). The article itself is basically a critique of Buddhism as a whole, although most of the examples Horgan uses stem from the Tibetan and Zen traditions.
Reading it, a couple of points immediately come to mind. The first is that a belief in postmortem rebirth needn't be faith-based (which, incidentally, holds true for belief in God): it can arise out of personal experiences, such as from the occurrence of past-life memories; it can arise out of anecdotal evidence (e.g., the research of Ian Stevenson); it can arise out of reason (i.e., the concept of rebirth isn't illogical, it simply relies on premises that strict materialists reject); etc.
More importantly, I'd argue that Horgan mischaracterizes rebirth as the belief in a transmigrating soul rather than how it's actually presented in the Suttas and understood by Theravada, which is a process whereby one moment of dependently arisen consciousness conditions the arising of the next, a process that doesn't necessarily cease at death. But whether one takes a literal or non-literal approach, rebirth is simply the continuation of a process — nothing 'remains,' nothing 'transmigrates,' etc. — there are merely phenomena that condition other phenomena in the interdependent process we call life.
The next point is that Horgan's treatment of kamma as "the law of moral cause and effect" which, with rebirth, implies "the existence of some cosmic judge who, like Santa Claus, tallies up our naughtiness and niceness before rewarding us with rebirth as a cockroach or as a saintly lama" is overly simplistic.
The basic premise behind kamma is that there's a cause and effect relationship between our actions and how they're experienced. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu puts it, "It's simply the fact of action—you do something unskillful, it's going to come back in an unpleasant way." In the same way, if you do something skillful, it's going to come back and be experienced in a pleasant way. This idea lies at the heart of Buddhist virtue ethics.
In the Suttas, the Buddha defines kamma as intentional actions of body, speech and mind (AN 6.63) that have the potential to produce certain results, which, in turn, have the potential to produce pleasant, painful or neutral feelings (AN 4.235). The word itself simply means 'action.'
Pragmatically speaking, actions are deemed 'unskillful' (akusala) if they lead to to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both. Actions that don't lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both are deemed 'skillful' (kusala) (MN 61). Therefore, the distinction between skillful and unskillful actions is based upon how their results are experienced—not only by ourselves, but by others as well. (This emphasis on the consequential aspect of actions is similar to Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism, with John Stuart Mill's idea of higher and lower happiness being similar to the Buddha's distinction between long-term and short-term welfare and happiness.)
Psychologically speaking, however, the quality of the intentions behind the actions is what ultimately determines whether they're unskillful or skillful. (This aspect is closer to Kant's deontological categorical imperative when combined with the Buddhist principle of ahimsa or harmlessness.) Intentional actions rooted in greed, hatred or delusion produce painful mental feelings "like those of the beings in hell," while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion produce the opposite ("like those of the Beautiful Black Devas"). Then there are acts rooted in both that bring mixed results "like those of human beings, some devas, and some beings in the lower realms" (AN 4.235).
By bringing kamma to an end, however, the mind is said to become free from agitation, leaving only moral perfection behind (AN 9.7). As St. Maximus writes in Opuscula theologica et polemica, from a complimentary Christian perspective, "A perfect nature has no need of choice, for it knows naturally what is good. Its freedom is based on this knowledge."
Essentially, Buddhist ethics focuses on the moral character of the individual, and revolves around seeing our desires for happiness and freedom from pain in all living creatures. If we don't respect that in them, how can we ever expect the same? This is especially true regarding human beings. Here I agree with the Buddha that, besides some rare and special cases, there's no one that's as dear to us as ourselves, that all beings essentially want to be happy in their own way (according to their specific capacities), and that it's a fairly decent and logical reason to desire their happiness as well as our own (SN 3.8).
The reason is simple. If our happiness comes at the expense of their happiness, they'll do everything in their power to upset that happiness. Conversely, if they were to infringe upon ours, wouldn't it follow that we'd do everything in our power to upset theirs? It seems like a vicious circle to me, and one of the ways to break this circle is an ethical framework that takes the happiness of others into consideration, which encourages the development of things like generosity and the four brahma-viharas: unlimited goodwill, compassion, empathetic joy and equanimity.
But regardless of what one thinks about the idea of kamma itself, I think the way it's presented in the Suttas clearly contradicts Horgan's assertion that Buddhism as a whole teaches us to view others as unreal and, by consequence, nullifies his conjecture that, "To someone who sees himself and others as unreal, human suffering and death may appear laughably trivial." Buddhist morality takes great pains to recognize the happiness and suffering of others, and to promote the former while preventing the latter.
Another point is that the practice of meditation has been demonstrated to help to reduce anxiety and lower blood pressure, among other things. It can also help to make one more empathetic. So I think dismissing meditation so quickly, especially without further elaboration, is a bit hasty. In addition, I believe that more research needs to be done in this area to make any conclusive statements as to what meditation can and can't do. Neuroscience is a relatively young field, after all.
Besides that, I also think he mischaracterizes anatta as nonexistence, which is another big mistake, in my opinion. Selfless ≠ nonexistent. The teachings on not-self aren't merely assertions that we have no self; they're a method for deconstructing our false perceptions about reality, as well as an important tool in removing the vast net of clinging that gives rise to suffering. By equating anatta with nonexistence, he's grasping the snake by the tail, as the Buddha would say.
In the simplest of terms, the Buddha taught that whatever is inconstant is stressful, and whatever is stressful is not-self—with the goal being to essentially take this [analytical] knowledge, along with a specific set of practices such as meditation, as a stepping stone to what I can only describe as a profound psychological event that radically changes the way the mind relates to experience.
That doesn't mean, however, that the teachings on not-self are understood to deny individuality (MN 22) or imply that the conventional person doesn't exist (SN 22.22). They merely break down the conceptual idea of a self — i.e., that which is satisfactory, permanent and completely subject to our control — in relation to the various aspects of our experience that we falsely cling to as 'me' or 'mine' (SN 22.59). Moreover, Horgan appears to contradict himself when he says that Buddhism "holds that after death our souls are re-instantiated in new bodies," but then later criticizes the idea of anatta as nonexistence. Either Buddhism is inconsistent on this matter, or Horgan is. My money is on the latter.
As for the rest, I don't really have the time nor the inclination to go into it in detail, but I do think Horgan tries to make some good points. Nevertheless, I think his points are mostly built upon rather spurious assumptions and more aimed at knocking down straw men than anything else. For example, the idea that Buddhism stems from "our narcissistic wish to believe that the universe was created for our benefit" is simply an assumption, and Horgan offers nothing to back it up. The Buddha certainly never said that we're here for a reason.
All in all, I find Horgan's article more of an emotional ad hominem than a solid critique of Buddhism. That said, I think it's a good start, but it definitely needs a lot more work if it's to be taken as a serious critique of Buddhism.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
virtue, concentration and discernment
After a particularly traumatic experience, a friend of mine once asked, "Do you think that the best learning comes from our personal experiences, or can you learn as deeply from teachers, books, or contemplation?" My initial answer was to say personal experience, but the question got me thinking about just what the Buddha taught and how he taught it. In particular, how did he teach his followers to understand and realize the Dhamma for themselves?
Your first impulse may be to say (as I did) personal experience via the noble eightfold path. That in and of itself is a good answer; however, what does the path itself entail? Does it mean that we should learn only by direct experiences, or is it a combination of that and something else? To find the answer, I began looking through the Suttas for some hint of the Buddha's general teaching structure. The noble eightfold path itself has eight distinct subjects, and those subjects become fairly broad and all-encompassing when you divide them into their constituents. But, just as they can be broadened, they can also be condensed into three easier to deal with sections — virtue, concentration and discernment — with each factor falling under one of these three categories.
The first thing I noticed was the Buddha doesn't advise anyone to strive for awakening without at least some form of guidance. Moreover, if the path to nibbana was so easily found and simple to follow, there wouldn't really be a need for a 'turner of the wheel,' would there? So the reason that the Buddha doesn't just suggest searching for an end of suffering blindly and without direction is precisely because this path isn't necessarily easy to find or follow on one's own, let alone teach. This idea is conveyed in places like SN 6.1, where the Buddha, sitting in seclusion not long after his awakening experience, thinks to himself:
To actually 'see' what the Buddha is pointing at for ourselves, then, we must follow a similar path, one that combines the three basic principles of virtue, concentration and discernment into one. While it's true that the Pali Canon records cases of people just hearing the Dhamma and attaining the fruits of the path, these spiritual advanced people are relatively few and far between, the product of both past and present skillful actions and ripening conditions that the average worldling (puthujjana), intoxicated with sensual pleasures, doesn't possess. Not only that, but they had the added benefit of having the Buddha himself as their guide. Many had to put a lot of effort into their practice.
The most difficult part of the equation is how do you teach something that's unconditioned, beyond concepts and worldly phenomena? No language or method of analysis can impart this kind of knowledge to an individual in and of themselves; it's a realization or gnosis that's born from experience coupled with insight. So, for this reason, the Buddha devised a way for practitioners to gain both—the noble eightfold path. Through this path the Buddha combines methods of virtuous conduct (sila), methods of meditative concentration (samadhi) and methods of developing discernment or insight (panna), and these three intertwined modes of training help to give rise to what are often called the factors for awakening.
Sila or virtue is taught by the Buddha as the foundation of the practice, especially in regard to meditation. Virtue helps to provide the meditator with a mind that's free from remorse, and a mind that's free from remorse is better able to develop deep states of concentration, which are difficult to develop when the mind is consistently worried or agitated (AN 11.2). The training of virtue is best known by the five precepts:
The five precepts are the basic training rules all Buddhists are encouraged to observe to the best of their ability, and are based on the principle of harmlessness (ahimsa) and renouncing unskillful behaviours that cause other beings harm and provoke retaliation. They constitute the basic level of virtue the Buddha advises is necessary for the peace of mind conducive to a successful meditation practice, and they are seen as gifts "that are not open to suspicion, will never be open to suspicion, and are unfaulted by knowledgeable contemplatives & priests" (AN 8.39). In the context of the eightfold path, this also includes right speech, right action and right livelihood, which are the factors classified under the division of virtue. Without this solid base of virtue, it's extremely difficult to achieve a sufficient state of mental calm and absorption. (Believe me, it's hard to meditate when you've done a lot of things you regret; they're the first things that pop up when the mind starts to get quiet.)
But even though discernment comes at the end of the triad, one won't see the benefits of practicing virtue without at least a modicum of discernment. 'You have to crawl before you can walk,' as the old saying goes. Therefore, it can be said that right resolve, which is classified under the division of discernment, also lies at the beginning since the wisdom and resolve needed to undertake a path of renunciation and harmlessness in the first place must already be present in some degree. This brings to mind the first two lines of the Dhammapada:
Next we have samadhi or concentration. The category of concentration consists of right effort, right mindfulness and right concentration. In the context of the path, concentration means meditation, which generally consists of centering the mind on a single meditation object in such a way that eventually leading to states of deep meditative absorption (jhana). And just as discernment is needed to practice virtue, and virtue acts as a foundation for concentration, concentration and discernment go hand in hand. Of course, certain ancient commentaries, as well as contemporary teachers, tend to treat them as two completely separate things, but in reality it seems almost impossible to differentiate between the two when looking at how the Pali Canon itself treats them. For example, there's this passage from the Dhammapada:
Many of the mindfulness meditations can lead to insight as well concentration, while many insight meditations can lead to states of concentration. Right mindfulness consists of developing mindfulness in regard to the four frames or objects of reference, i.e., the body in and of itself; feelings in and of themselves; mind in and of itself; and mental qualities in and of themselves (DN 22). The type of concentration that the Buddha is referring to in the context of right concentration is called jhana or meditative absorption, which can ultimately lead to the "ending the mental fermentations" (AN 9.36). The basic quality here is that there's only one object or focus of mindful-awareness. This focus can eventually lead to states of rapture or joy (piti), which is a factor of the first jhana, all the way on through to the formless attainments—the highest of which is called "the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception."
The most popular method of achieving this type of meditative awareness is mindfulness of breathing, although the four frames of reference can be used as well, especially when coupled with mindfulness of breathing. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu points out in his introduction to DN 22:
The practice of concentration itself has many benefits. It gives the mind a comfortable place to rest and can help to lower blood pressure. It can also help to make one more empathetic. The most important benefit, however, is the ability of concentration to temporarily subdue the five hindrances (nivarana), which the Buddha calls "overgrowths of the mind that stultify insight," i.e., sensual desire, ill-will, sloth and drowsiness, restlessness and anxiety and uncertainty (AN 5.51). SN 47.10, for example, briefly details how directing the mind towards an inspiring object can act as an antidote to these unskillful mental states, and MN 20 lists five methods for dealing with unskillful thoughts in the course of meditation. Once the mind is calm, clear, focused, concentrated and temporarily free of the five hindrances, it's then better able to perform the next mode of training—discernment.
Panna or discernment — which includes right view and right resolve — basically means seeing things as they are in relation to the three characteristics of existence (tilakkhana)—unsatisfactoriness (dukkha), inconstancy (anicca) and not-self (anatta). This development of insight is analogous to what many call vipassana or insight mediation, and is especially useful for the contemplation of the five clinging-aggregates — the most discernible aspects of our experience on top of which we construct our sense of self — as Sariputta, the Buddha's most trusted disciple, explains in SN 22.122:
The topics of discernment are numerous, however, and, being entwined with concentration practice, can include things like the contemplation the five subjects of frequent reflection, the contemplation of the body, the contemplation of death, etc. In essence, when the mind of an individual has acquired a solid foundation of virtue, and after the mind has been calmed and settled to a point of focused awareness, it can then proceed to 'experience' life via the profound context of Dhamma:
And the Dhamma is a mirror with many reflections—dependent co-arising, the noble eightfold path, the three characteristics, the four noble truths, etc. So it's not by simply experiencing life that I think we can most effectively realize the freedom and peace of nibbana, nor is it by simply reading the Suttas or listening to Dhamma talks by experienced teachers; but it's a combination of all three (i.e., personal experience, right view/technique and proper guidance) that can really help to free the mind from its defilements. This approach can be likened to the the approach we're encouraged to take in regard to the three jewels of the Buddha, our guide or teacher; the Dhamma, his teachings; and the Sangha, the community of monks, nuns and lay-followers who have practiced well.
In the end, experience in and of itself won't necessarily lead to liberation, especially if our experience of life is characterized by ignorance (avijja) of the four noble truths; but by experiencing life in reference to these "four categories for viewing and classifying the processes of immediate experience," we can be sure to get a clear view of things as they are. And if we're ever in doubt we're on the right path, we can always know the Dhamma by its qualities:
Your first impulse may be to say (as I did) personal experience via the noble eightfold path. That in and of itself is a good answer; however, what does the path itself entail? Does it mean that we should learn only by direct experiences, or is it a combination of that and something else? To find the answer, I began looking through the Suttas for some hint of the Buddha's general teaching structure. The noble eightfold path itself has eight distinct subjects, and those subjects become fairly broad and all-encompassing when you divide them into their constituents. But, just as they can be broadened, they can also be condensed into three easier to deal with sections — virtue, concentration and discernment — with each factor falling under one of these three categories.
The first thing I noticed was the Buddha doesn't advise anyone to strive for awakening without at least some form of guidance. Moreover, if the path to nibbana was so easily found and simple to follow, there wouldn't really be a need for a 'turner of the wheel,' would there? So the reason that the Buddha doesn't just suggest searching for an end of suffering blindly and without direction is precisely because this path isn't necessarily easy to find or follow on one's own, let alone teach. This idea is conveyed in places like SN 6.1, where the Buddha, sitting in seclusion not long after his awakening experience, thinks to himself:
This Dhamma that I have attained is deep, hard to see, hard to realize, peaceful, refined, beyond the scope of conjecture, subtle, to-be experienced by the wise. But this generation delights in attachment, is excited by attachment, enjoys attachment. For a generation delighting in attachment, excited by attachment, enjoying attachment, this/that conditionality and dependent co-arising are hard to see. This state, too, is hard to see: the resolution of all fabrications, the relinquishment of all acquisitions, the ending of craving; dispassion; cessation; Unbinding. And if I were to teach the Dhamma and if others would not understand me, that would be tiresome for me, troublesome for me.
To actually 'see' what the Buddha is pointing at for ourselves, then, we must follow a similar path, one that combines the three basic principles of virtue, concentration and discernment into one. While it's true that the Pali Canon records cases of people just hearing the Dhamma and attaining the fruits of the path, these spiritual advanced people are relatively few and far between, the product of both past and present skillful actions and ripening conditions that the average worldling (puthujjana), intoxicated with sensual pleasures, doesn't possess. Not only that, but they had the added benefit of having the Buddha himself as their guide. Many had to put a lot of effort into their practice.
The most difficult part of the equation is how do you teach something that's unconditioned, beyond concepts and worldly phenomena? No language or method of analysis can impart this kind of knowledge to an individual in and of themselves; it's a realization or gnosis that's born from experience coupled with insight. So, for this reason, the Buddha devised a way for practitioners to gain both—the noble eightfold path. Through this path the Buddha combines methods of virtuous conduct (sila), methods of meditative concentration (samadhi) and methods of developing discernment or insight (panna), and these three intertwined modes of training help to give rise to what are often called the factors for awakening.
Sila or virtue is taught by the Buddha as the foundation of the practice, especially in regard to meditation. Virtue helps to provide the meditator with a mind that's free from remorse, and a mind that's free from remorse is better able to develop deep states of concentration, which are difficult to develop when the mind is consistently worried or agitated (AN 11.2). The training of virtue is best known by the five precepts:
1. Panatipata veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
I undertake the precept to refrain from destroying living creatures.
2. Adinnadana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
I undertake the precept to refrain from taking that which is not given.
3. Kamesu micchacara veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
I undertake the precept to refrain from sexual misconduct.
4. Musavada veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
I undertake the precept to refrain from incorrect speech.
5. Suramerayamajja pamadatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
I undertake the precept to refrain from intoxicating drinks and drugs which lead to carelessness.
The five precepts are the basic training rules all Buddhists are encouraged to observe to the best of their ability, and are based on the principle of harmlessness (ahimsa) and renouncing unskillful behaviours that cause other beings harm and provoke retaliation. They constitute the basic level of virtue the Buddha advises is necessary for the peace of mind conducive to a successful meditation practice, and they are seen as gifts "that are not open to suspicion, will never be open to suspicion, and are unfaulted by knowledgeable contemplatives & priests" (AN 8.39). In the context of the eightfold path, this also includes right speech, right action and right livelihood, which are the factors classified under the division of virtue. Without this solid base of virtue, it's extremely difficult to achieve a sufficient state of mental calm and absorption. (Believe me, it's hard to meditate when you've done a lot of things you regret; they're the first things that pop up when the mind starts to get quiet.)
But even though discernment comes at the end of the triad, one won't see the benefits of practicing virtue without at least a modicum of discernment. 'You have to crawl before you can walk,' as the old saying goes. Therefore, it can be said that right resolve, which is classified under the division of discernment, also lies at the beginning since the wisdom and resolve needed to undertake a path of renunciation and harmlessness in the first place must already be present in some degree. This brings to mind the first two lines of the Dhammapada:
Mind precedes all mental states. Mind is their chief; they are all mind-wrought. If with an impure mind a person speaks or acts suffering follows him like the wheel that follows the foot of the ox.
Mind precedes all mental states. Mind is their chief; they are all mind-wrought. If with a pure mind a person speaks or acts happiness follows him like his never-departing shadow.
Next we have samadhi or concentration. The category of concentration consists of right effort, right mindfulness and right concentration. In the context of the path, concentration means meditation, which generally consists of centering the mind on a single meditation object in such a way that eventually leading to states of deep meditative absorption (jhana). And just as discernment is needed to practice virtue, and virtue acts as a foundation for concentration, concentration and discernment go hand in hand. Of course, certain ancient commentaries, as well as contemporary teachers, tend to treat them as two completely separate things, but in reality it seems almost impossible to differentiate between the two when looking at how the Pali Canon itself treats them. For example, there's this passage from the Dhammapada:
There is no meditative concentration for him who lacks insight, and no insight for him who lacks meditative concentration. He in whom are found both meditative concentration and insight, indeed, is close to Nibbana.
Many of the mindfulness meditations can lead to insight as well concentration, while many insight meditations can lead to states of concentration. Right mindfulness consists of developing mindfulness in regard to the four frames or objects of reference, i.e., the body in and of itself; feelings in and of themselves; mind in and of itself; and mental qualities in and of themselves (DN 22). The type of concentration that the Buddha is referring to in the context of right concentration is called jhana or meditative absorption, which can ultimately lead to the "ending the mental fermentations" (AN 9.36). The basic quality here is that there's only one object or focus of mindful-awareness. This focus can eventually lead to states of rapture or joy (piti), which is a factor of the first jhana, all the way on through to the formless attainments—the highest of which is called "the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception."
The most popular method of achieving this type of meditative awareness is mindfulness of breathing, although the four frames of reference can be used as well, especially when coupled with mindfulness of breathing. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu points out in his introduction to DN 22:
At first glance, the four frames of reference for satipatthana practice sound like four different meditation exercises, but MN 118 makes clear that they can all center on a single practice: keeping the breath in mind. When the mind is with the breath, all four frames of reference are right there. The difference lies simply in the subtlety of one's focus. It's like learning to play the piano. As you get more proficient at playing, you also become sensitive in listening to ever more subtle levels in the music. This allows you to play even more skillfully. In the same way, as a meditator gets more skilled in staying with the breath, the practice of satipatthana gives greater sensitivity in peeling away ever more subtle layers of participation in the present moment until nothing is left standing in the way of total release.
The practice of concentration itself has many benefits. It gives the mind a comfortable place to rest and can help to lower blood pressure. It can also help to make one more empathetic. The most important benefit, however, is the ability of concentration to temporarily subdue the five hindrances (nivarana), which the Buddha calls "overgrowths of the mind that stultify insight," i.e., sensual desire, ill-will, sloth and drowsiness, restlessness and anxiety and uncertainty (AN 5.51). SN 47.10, for example, briefly details how directing the mind towards an inspiring object can act as an antidote to these unskillful mental states, and MN 20 lists five methods for dealing with unskillful thoughts in the course of meditation. Once the mind is calm, clear, focused, concentrated and temporarily free of the five hindrances, it's then better able to perform the next mode of training—discernment.
Panna or discernment — which includes right view and right resolve — basically means seeing things as they are in relation to the three characteristics of existence (tilakkhana)—unsatisfactoriness (dukkha), inconstancy (anicca) and not-self (anatta). This development of insight is analogous to what many call vipassana or insight mediation, and is especially useful for the contemplation of the five clinging-aggregates — the most discernible aspects of our experience on top of which we construct our sense of self — as Sariputta, the Buddha's most trusted disciple, explains in SN 22.122:
A virtuous monk, Kotthita my friend, should attend in an appropriate way to the five clinging-aggregates as inconstant, stressful, a disease, a cancer, an arrow, painful, an affliction, alien, a dissolution, an emptiness, not-self. Which five? Form as a clinging-aggregate, feeling... perception... fabrications... consciousness as a clinging-aggregate. A virtuous monk should attend in an appropriate way to these five clinging-aggregates as inconstant, stressful, a disease, a cancer, an arrow, painful, an affliction, alien, a dissolution, an emptiness, not-self. For it is possible that a virtuous monk, attending in an appropriate way to these five clinging-aggregates as inconstant... not-self, would realize the fruit of stream-entry.
The topics of discernment are numerous, however, and, being entwined with concentration practice, can include things like the contemplation the five subjects of frequent reflection, the contemplation of the body, the contemplation of death, etc. In essence, when the mind of an individual has acquired a solid foundation of virtue, and after the mind has been calmed and settled to a point of focused awareness, it can then proceed to 'experience' life via the profound context of Dhamma:
There is the case where the disciple of the noble ones recollects the Dhamma, thus: 'The Dhamma is well-expounded by the Blessed One, to be seen here & now, timeless, inviting verification, pertinent, to be realized by the wise for themselves.' As he is recollecting the Dhamma, his mind is calmed, and joy arises; the defilements of his mind are abandoned, just as when the body is cleansed through the proper technique. And how is the body cleansed through the proper technique? Through the use of scouring balls & bath powder & the appropriate human effort. This is how the body is cleansed through the proper technique. In the same way, the defiled mind is cleansed through the proper technique. And how is the defiled mind cleansed through the proper technique? There is the case where the disciple of the noble ones recollects the Dhamma... As he is recollecting the Dhamma, his mind is cleansed, and joy arises; the defilements of his mind are abandoned. He is thus called a disciple of the noble ones undertaking the Dhamma-Uposatha. He lives with Dhamma. It is owing to Dhamma that his mind is calmed, that joy arises, and that whatever defilements there are in his mind are abandoned. This is how the mind is cleansed through the proper technique.
And the Dhamma is a mirror with many reflections—dependent co-arising, the noble eightfold path, the three characteristics, the four noble truths, etc. So it's not by simply experiencing life that I think we can most effectively realize the freedom and peace of nibbana, nor is it by simply reading the Suttas or listening to Dhamma talks by experienced teachers; but it's a combination of all three (i.e., personal experience, right view/technique and proper guidance) that can really help to free the mind from its defilements. This approach can be likened to the the approach we're encouraged to take in regard to the three jewels of the Buddha, our guide or teacher; the Dhamma, his teachings; and the Sangha, the community of monks, nuns and lay-followers who have practiced well.
In the end, experience in and of itself won't necessarily lead to liberation, especially if our experience of life is characterized by ignorance (avijja) of the four noble truths; but by experiencing life in reference to these "four categories for viewing and classifying the processes of immediate experience," we can be sure to get a clear view of things as they are. And if we're ever in doubt we're on the right path, we can always know the Dhamma by its qualities:
As for the qualities of which you may know, 'These qualities lead to dispassion, not to passion; to being unfettered, not to being fettered; to shedding, not to accumulating; to modesty, not to self-aggrandizement; to contentment, not to discontent; to seclusion, not to entanglement; to aroused persistence, not to laziness; to being unburdensome, not to being burdensome': You may definitely hold, 'This is the Dhamma, this is the Vinaya, this is the Teacher's instruction.'
Monday, February 14, 2011
magha puja: my unexpected experience
This is an edited version of something I wrote five years ago today after an unexpected experience.
I wasn't originally going to celebrate Magha Puja — the day tradition holds that 1,250 arahants spontaneously gathered at Veruvana Temple, Rajgarh city — this year. I'm not very big on 'holidays,' but I was definitely in for a pleasant surprise this time around.
I originally went to Wat Buddhanusorn on Sunday [February 12] just to visit my teacher, Ajahn Prasert, but I ended up celebrating Magha Puja there as well. It was a nice day; the sun was out, there were a lot of nice people there, and they even had traditional Thai music and dancing along with the ceremony. I was also happy to see my friend, Phra Mike, who'd recently been in Thailand, as well as few others who I had the pleasure of spending the year-end retreat with. And as if that wasn't nice enough, I was invited to go to Abhayagiri the next day with Ayya Tathaaloka.
So, yesterday [February 13], we drove to Abhayagiri and celebrated Magha Puja there too. It was the first time I'd seen Ajahn Amaro in person. For me, it was like seeing a celebrity, and it was such a joy to hear one of his talks in person. My meditation was also unbelievably focused; I came as close as I've ever come to one-pointedness of mind. I think one of the reasons for this was my extraordinary level of inspiration. Not only did I get the meet one of my favourite Dhamma teachers, but I also had the good fortune to meditate in the presence of relics from Ajahn Mun and Ajahn Sao.
Instead of my normal anapanasati (mindfulness of breathing) meditation, I began by mentally repeat 'buddho' over and over again. Since I knew that this was one of Ajahn Mun's methods of meditation, I felt it appropriate to give it a try. I'll admit that I've never had much success with this particular method because my mind often wanders away from the meditation object quite easily; however, last night I was able to keep my awareness right there. Nothing could distract me. If any thoughts or feelings arose, I'd simply dismiss them with my ever-watchful mindfulness, which is usually never-watchful.
This continued until almost everything else faded away. There was only the awareness of 'buddho' and the sensation of whatever it was that was consciously repeating it. If I'd been allowed to continue this undisturbed, I'm positive that I would've achieved complete one-pointedness of mind. But, as my luck often has it, a person nearby had to sneeze. It was pretty loud since the room was quite small, and I was aware of my surrounding just enough to become startled by it. Even so, I still felt very happy because I now knew that such concentration was possible.
I felt so at home there, and I'm glad that I got the chance to go. The whole night felt very auspicious to me. I wish that Abhayagiri wasn't so far away, because regular visits aren't in any way convenient. I'll tell you the truth, I've never really cared too much about 'relics' or the superficial practices of Buddhism such as pujas, but I now understand how powerful they can be—if just for the added inspiration and psychological enhancement of the experience alone.
It was a truly amazing and spiritually inspiring experience. You simply can't help but want to practice when you're around such dedicated members of the Sangha. Once again, my appreciation for the Buddha's monastic community has blossomed, and I'm deeply appreciative of the important place it holds.
These are the verses (gatha) that the Buddha is said to have spoken to the 1,250 arahants who gathered on this occasion:
I wasn't originally going to celebrate Magha Puja — the day tradition holds that 1,250 arahants spontaneously gathered at Veruvana Temple, Rajgarh city — this year. I'm not very big on 'holidays,' but I was definitely in for a pleasant surprise this time around.
I originally went to Wat Buddhanusorn on Sunday [February 12] just to visit my teacher, Ajahn Prasert, but I ended up celebrating Magha Puja there as well. It was a nice day; the sun was out, there were a lot of nice people there, and they even had traditional Thai music and dancing along with the ceremony. I was also happy to see my friend, Phra Mike, who'd recently been in Thailand, as well as few others who I had the pleasure of spending the year-end retreat with. And as if that wasn't nice enough, I was invited to go to Abhayagiri the next day with Ayya Tathaaloka.
So, yesterday [February 13], we drove to Abhayagiri and celebrated Magha Puja there too. It was the first time I'd seen Ajahn Amaro in person. For me, it was like seeing a celebrity, and it was such a joy to hear one of his talks in person. My meditation was also unbelievably focused; I came as close as I've ever come to one-pointedness of mind. I think one of the reasons for this was my extraordinary level of inspiration. Not only did I get the meet one of my favourite Dhamma teachers, but I also had the good fortune to meditate in the presence of relics from Ajahn Mun and Ajahn Sao.
Instead of my normal anapanasati (mindfulness of breathing) meditation, I began by mentally repeat 'buddho' over and over again. Since I knew that this was one of Ajahn Mun's methods of meditation, I felt it appropriate to give it a try. I'll admit that I've never had much success with this particular method because my mind often wanders away from the meditation object quite easily; however, last night I was able to keep my awareness right there. Nothing could distract me. If any thoughts or feelings arose, I'd simply dismiss them with my ever-watchful mindfulness, which is usually never-watchful.
This continued until almost everything else faded away. There was only the awareness of 'buddho' and the sensation of whatever it was that was consciously repeating it. If I'd been allowed to continue this undisturbed, I'm positive that I would've achieved complete one-pointedness of mind. But, as my luck often has it, a person nearby had to sneeze. It was pretty loud since the room was quite small, and I was aware of my surrounding just enough to become startled by it. Even so, I still felt very happy because I now knew that such concentration was possible.
I felt so at home there, and I'm glad that I got the chance to go. The whole night felt very auspicious to me. I wish that Abhayagiri wasn't so far away, because regular visits aren't in any way convenient. I'll tell you the truth, I've never really cared too much about 'relics' or the superficial practices of Buddhism such as pujas, but I now understand how powerful they can be—if just for the added inspiration and psychological enhancement of the experience alone.
It was a truly amazing and spiritually inspiring experience. You simply can't help but want to practice when you're around such dedicated members of the Sangha. Once again, my appreciation for the Buddha's monastic community has blossomed, and I'm deeply appreciative of the important place it holds.
These are the verses (gatha) that the Buddha is said to have spoken to the 1,250 arahants who gathered on this occasion:
Ovaada-paa.timokkha Gaathaa
Khantii parama.m tapo tiitikkhaa
Nibbaana.m parama.m vadanti buddhaa,
Na hi pabbajito paruupaghaatii
Sama.no hoti para.m vihe.thayanto
Patient forbearance is the foremost austerity.
Liberation is foremost: that's what the Buddhas say.
He is no monk who injures another;
nor a contemplative, he who mistreats another.
Sabba-paapassa akara.na.m,
Kusalassuupasampadaa,
Sacitta-pariyodapana.m:
Eta.m buddhaana-saasana.m.
The non-doing of any evil,
The performance of what's skillful,
The cleansing of one's own mind:
This is the Buddhas' teaching.
Anuupavaado anuupaghaato
Paa.timokkhe ca sa.mvaro
Mattaññutaa ca bhattasmi.m
Pantañca sayan'aasana.m.
Adhicitte ca aayogo:
Eta.m buddhaana-saasananti.
Not disparaging, not injuring,
Restraint in line with the monastic code,
Moderation in food,
Dwelling in seclusion,
Commitment to the heightened mind:
This is the Buddhas' teaching.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
buddhist virtue ethics
Ethics is fairly broad subject, but it mainly deals with questions of morality and codes of conduct that help guide our actions. When it comes to whether an action is deemed ethical, that depends a great deal on the underlying principles of the ethical system in question. Some, for example, take the outcome of an action to be the most important deciding factor, while others may take the action itself as the key determining factor.
In Buddhism, for example, the Buddha's distinction between skillful and unskillful actions seems like a middle way between, or possibly a synthesis of, Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism and Immanuel Kant's deontological categorical imperative. (That's not to say that Bentham and Kant represent two ends of a single ethical spectrum, only that the Buddha takes what Bentham and Kant stress and emphasis them together.) With the Buddha, just/skillful actions aren't simply judged to be just/skillful based upon their consequences, but also because there's something inherently and universally just/skillful about the actions themselves. In Buddhism, this would be due to the quality of the intentions behind the actions.
The underlying principles behind Buddhist ethics are kamma — the idea that certain actions produce pleasant, painful or neutral feelings/results — and the principle of ahimsa or harmlessness.
The basic premise behind kamma is that there's a cause and effect relationship between our actions and how they're experienced. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu puts it, "It's simply the fact of action—you do something unskillful, it's going to come back in an unpleasant way." In the same way, if you do something skillful, it's going to come back and be experienced in a pleasant way. In the Suttas, the Buddha defines kamma as intentional actions of body, speech and mind (AN 6.63) that have the potential to produce certain results, which, in turn, have the potential to produce pleasant, painful or neutral feelings (AN 4.235). The word itself simply means 'action.'
Pragmatically speaking, actions are deemed 'unskillful' (akusala) if they lead to to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both. Actions that don't lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both are deemed 'skillful' (kusala) (MN 61). Therefore, the distinction between skillful and unskillful actions is based upon how their results are experienced—not only by ourselves, but by others as well. (This emphasis on the consequential aspect of actions is similar to Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism, with John Stuart Mill's idea of higher and lower happiness being similar to the Buddha's distinction between long-term and short-term welfare and happiness.)
Psychologically speaking, however, the quality of the intentions behind the actions is what ultimately determines whether they're unskillful or skillful. (This aspect is closer to Kant's deontological categorical imperative when combined with the Buddhist principle of harmlessness.) Intentional actions rooted in greed, hatred or delusion produce painful mental feelings "like those of the beings in hell," while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion produce the opposite ("like those of the Beautiful Black Devas"). Then there are acts rooted in both that bring mixed results "like those of human beings, some devas, and some beings in the lower realms" (AN 4.235). By bringing kamma to an end via the noble eightfold path, however, and eliminating the skillful/unskillful dichotomy altogether, the mind is said to become free from agitation, leaving only freedom (SN 36.31) and moral perfection behind (AN 9.7). Or as St. Maximus writes in Opuscula theologica et polemica (albeit from a Christian perspective), "A perfect nature has no need of choice, for it knows naturally what is good. Its freedom is based on this knowledge."
Essentially, Buddhist ethics focuses on the moral character of the individual, and revolves around seeing our desires for happiness and freedom from pain in all living creatures. If we don't respect that in them, how can we ever expect the same? This is especially true regarding human beings. Here I agree with the Buddha that, besides some rare and special cases, there's no one that's as dear to us as ourselves, that all beings essentially want to be happy in their own way (according to their specific capacities), and that it's a fairly decent and logical reason to desire their happiness as well as our own (SN 3.8).
The reason is simple. If our happiness comes at the expense of their happiness, they'll do everything in their power to upset that happiness. Conversely, if they were to infringe upon ours, wouldn't it follow that we'd do everything in our power to upset theirs? It seems like a vicious circle to me, and one of the ways to break this circle is an ethical framework that takes the happiness of others into consideration. This, in turn, can eventually lead to the development of things like compassion and generosity, which, when combined with other qualities and training methods, can ultimately transform a self-centred desire for happiness into the selfless achievement of happiness via insight into the inconstant (anicca), stressful (dukkha) and selfless (anatta) nature of phenomena.
Nevertheless, Buddhism is a type of 'religious individualism' in that the teachings on kamma focus on individual actions and their consequences, so ethics are more or less a personal matter that each individual must explore and develop on their own; although guidance is certainly advised.
The way I see it, Buddhist ethics aren't entirely black or white, i.e., they aren't seen in terms of ethical and unethical as much as skillful and unskillful. In Buddhism, all intentional actions are understood to have potential consequences, and actions that cause harm to others and/or ourselves are considered to be unskillful and something to be avoided. But the Buddha never condemns people merely for making unskillful choices or breaking the precepts; he simply urges them to learn from their mistakes and to make an effort to renounce their unskillful behaviour with the understanding that skillful behaviour leads to long-term welfare and happiness.
All in all, I find Buddhist ethics to be less judgmental and more forgiving than many other systems when it comes to making mistakes (read 'less rigid'), as well as ingenious and profoundly simple from a theoretical point of view. But more importantly, I find it to be practical and extremely effective when sincerely adopted and put into practice.
In Buddhism, for example, the Buddha's distinction between skillful and unskillful actions seems like a middle way between, or possibly a synthesis of, Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism and Immanuel Kant's deontological categorical imperative. (That's not to say that Bentham and Kant represent two ends of a single ethical spectrum, only that the Buddha takes what Bentham and Kant stress and emphasis them together.) With the Buddha, just/skillful actions aren't simply judged to be just/skillful based upon their consequences, but also because there's something inherently and universally just/skillful about the actions themselves. In Buddhism, this would be due to the quality of the intentions behind the actions.
The underlying principles behind Buddhist ethics are kamma — the idea that certain actions produce pleasant, painful or neutral feelings/results — and the principle of ahimsa or harmlessness.
The basic premise behind kamma is that there's a cause and effect relationship between our actions and how they're experienced. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu puts it, "It's simply the fact of action—you do something unskillful, it's going to come back in an unpleasant way." In the same way, if you do something skillful, it's going to come back and be experienced in a pleasant way. In the Suttas, the Buddha defines kamma as intentional actions of body, speech and mind (AN 6.63) that have the potential to produce certain results, which, in turn, have the potential to produce pleasant, painful or neutral feelings (AN 4.235). The word itself simply means 'action.'
Pragmatically speaking, actions are deemed 'unskillful' (akusala) if they lead to to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both. Actions that don't lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both are deemed 'skillful' (kusala) (MN 61). Therefore, the distinction between skillful and unskillful actions is based upon how their results are experienced—not only by ourselves, but by others as well. (This emphasis on the consequential aspect of actions is similar to Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism, with John Stuart Mill's idea of higher and lower happiness being similar to the Buddha's distinction between long-term and short-term welfare and happiness.)
Psychologically speaking, however, the quality of the intentions behind the actions is what ultimately determines whether they're unskillful or skillful. (This aspect is closer to Kant's deontological categorical imperative when combined with the Buddhist principle of harmlessness.) Intentional actions rooted in greed, hatred or delusion produce painful mental feelings "like those of the beings in hell," while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion produce the opposite ("like those of the Beautiful Black Devas"). Then there are acts rooted in both that bring mixed results "like those of human beings, some devas, and some beings in the lower realms" (AN 4.235). By bringing kamma to an end via the noble eightfold path, however, and eliminating the skillful/unskillful dichotomy altogether, the mind is said to become free from agitation, leaving only freedom (SN 36.31) and moral perfection behind (AN 9.7). Or as St. Maximus writes in Opuscula theologica et polemica (albeit from a Christian perspective), "A perfect nature has no need of choice, for it knows naturally what is good. Its freedom is based on this knowledge."
Essentially, Buddhist ethics focuses on the moral character of the individual, and revolves around seeing our desires for happiness and freedom from pain in all living creatures. If we don't respect that in them, how can we ever expect the same? This is especially true regarding human beings. Here I agree with the Buddha that, besides some rare and special cases, there's no one that's as dear to us as ourselves, that all beings essentially want to be happy in their own way (according to their specific capacities), and that it's a fairly decent and logical reason to desire their happiness as well as our own (SN 3.8).
The reason is simple. If our happiness comes at the expense of their happiness, they'll do everything in their power to upset that happiness. Conversely, if they were to infringe upon ours, wouldn't it follow that we'd do everything in our power to upset theirs? It seems like a vicious circle to me, and one of the ways to break this circle is an ethical framework that takes the happiness of others into consideration. This, in turn, can eventually lead to the development of things like compassion and generosity, which, when combined with other qualities and training methods, can ultimately transform a self-centred desire for happiness into the selfless achievement of happiness via insight into the inconstant (anicca), stressful (dukkha) and selfless (anatta) nature of phenomena.
Nevertheless, Buddhism is a type of 'religious individualism' in that the teachings on kamma focus on individual actions and their consequences, so ethics are more or less a personal matter that each individual must explore and develop on their own; although guidance is certainly advised.
The way I see it, Buddhist ethics aren't entirely black or white, i.e., they aren't seen in terms of ethical and unethical as much as skillful and unskillful. In Buddhism, all intentional actions are understood to have potential consequences, and actions that cause harm to others and/or ourselves are considered to be unskillful and something to be avoided. But the Buddha never condemns people merely for making unskillful choices or breaking the precepts; he simply urges them to learn from their mistakes and to make an effort to renounce their unskillful behaviour with the understanding that skillful behaviour leads to long-term welfare and happiness.
All in all, I find Buddhist ethics to be less judgmental and more forgiving than many other systems when it comes to making mistakes (read 'less rigid'), as well as ingenious and profoundly simple from a theoretical point of view. But more importantly, I find it to be practical and extremely effective when sincerely adopted and put into practice.
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