the futility of violence

My first response to the news that Osama bin Laden had been killed by the US was: "Ten years, thousands of lives and billions of dollars later, and the US has finally succeeded in making Osama bin Laden a martyr. Good job?"

All sarcasm aside, I realize that many see bin Laden's death as a cause for celebration, but I think it's worth reflecting on Lao-Tzu's words on war, especially the part about treating victory in war as a funeral:

Where the princely man abides, the weak left hand is in honour. But he who uses weapons honours the stronger right. Weapons are instruments of ill omen; they are not the instruments of the princely man, who uses them only when he needs must. Peace and tranquillity are what he prizes. When he conquers, he is not elate. To be elate were to rejoice in the slaughter of human beings. And he who rejoices in the slaughter of human beings is not fit to work his will in the Empire.

On happy occasions, the left is favoured; on sad occasions, the right. The second in command has his place on the left, the general in chief on the right. That is to say, they are placed in the order observed at funeral rites. And, indeed, he who has exterminated a great multitude of men should bewail them with tears and lamentation. It is well that those who are victorious in battle should be placed in the order of funeral rites.

A similar sentiment can even be found in the Old Testament of the Bible:

Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice, or the LORD will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from them. (Pro 24:17-18)

Personally, it saddens me to see so many people celebrating the death of another human being, even a not-so-nice one like bin Laden. It reminds me of Gandhi's saying: "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." In fact, one of the main things that originally attracted me to Buddhism was its attitude towards violence, e.g.:

"He abused me, he struck me, he overpowered me, he robbed me." Those who harbor such thoughts do not still their hatred.

"He abused me, he struck me, he overpowered me, he robbed me." Those who do not harbor such thoughts still their hatred.

Hatred is never appeased by hatred in this world. By non-hatred alone is hatred appeased. This is a law eternal.

There are those who do not realize that one day we all must die. But those who do realize this settle their quarrels. (Dhp 1.3-6).

And:

Killing, you gain
your killer.
Conquering, you gain one
who will conquer you;
insulting, insult;
harassing, harassment.

And so, through the cycle of action,
he who has plundered
gets plundered in turn. (SN 3.15)

I think Howard Zinn, a WWII vet and political activist, came to a similar understanding — that war can't end war, that violence can't end violence — from his experiences in WWII; an idea which he expressed in part of a speech he gave in 2006:

I was talking to my barber the other day, because we always discuss world politics. And he's totally politically unpredictable, as most barbers are, you see. He said, "Howard," he said, "you know, you and I disagree on many things, but on one thing we agree: war solves nothing." And I thought, "Yeah." It's not hard for people to grasp that.

And there again, history is useful. We've had a history of war after war after war after war. What have they solved? What have they done? Even World War II, the "good war," the war in which I volunteered, the war in which I dropped bombs, the war after which, you know, I received a letter from General Marshall, general of generals, a letter addressed personally to me, and to 16 million others, in which he said, "We've won the war. It will be a new world." Well, of course, it wasn't a new world. It hasn't been a new world. War after war after war.

There are certain -- I came out of that war, the war in which I had volunteered, the war in which I was an enthusiastic bombardier, I came out of that war with certain ideas, which just developed gradually at the end of the war, ideas about war. One, that war corrupts everybody who engages in it. War poisons everybody who engages in it. You start off as the good guys, as we did in World War II. They're the bad guys. They're the fascists. What could be worse? So, they're the bad guys, we're the good guys. And as the war goes on, the good guys begin behaving like the bad guys. You can trace this back to the Peloponnesian War. You can trace it back to the good guy, the Athenians, and the bad guys, the Spartans. And after a while, the Athenians become ruthless and cruel, like the Spartans.

And we did that in World War II. We, after Hitler committed his atrocities, we committed our atrocities. You know, our killing of 600,000 civilians in Japan, our killing of probably an equal number of civilians in Germany. These, they weren't Hitler, they weren't Tojo. They weren't -- no, they were just ordinary people, like we are ordinary people living in a country that is a marauding country, and they were living in countries that were marauding countries, and they were caught up in whatever it was and afraid to speak up. And I don't know, I came to the conclusion, yes, war poisons everybody.

I know that we're not a nonviolent species by nature; but as naive as it might sound, it's my hope that we'll eventually see the futility of violence in the long run.

the place of god in buddhism

People new to Buddhism, especially those who come from a Judeo-Christian background, often ask about the place of God in Buddhism. Many are surprised to learn that most Buddhist traditions and texts don't posit an omnipotent, omniscient, creator god analogous to the Judeo-Christian God, and it seems to me that there are three main reasons why the question of God is basically a non-issue in Buddhism.

Reason #1: According to the texts, a beginning point to samsara (literally 'wandering on') isn't evident (SN 15.3). This can be interpreted two ways — that a beginning point to the continual cycle of death and rebirth of beings isn't evident, or that a beginning point to the continual cycle of death and rebirth of the conceit 'I am,' the self-identification that designates a being (satta), isn't evident — and they're not mutually exclusive. Either way, the point is the same: all that really matters in the here and now is whether suffering is present, and if so, how it can be overcome.

Reason #2: I think it's safe to say that Buddhism is essentially non-theistic in view. However, I also happen to be of the opinion that, if we dig a bit deeper, the idea of a creator God is incompatible with certain aspects and teachings that, if taken to their logical conclusion, seem to reject the idea of, or a need for, a creator God. For one thing, the logic of dependent co-arising, while primarily concerned with the psychological process by which suffering arises in the mind, negates the idea of a creator God in that it precludes a first cause or a causeless cause when applied to cosmology.

Then there's this famous problem of evil passage from the Bhuridatta Jataka (although, to be fair, this is most likely a later addition that some date to the 13th century):

We see those rules enforced before our eyes,
None but the Brahmans offer sacrifice,
None but the Khattiya exercises sway,
The Vessas plough, the Suddas must obey.
These greedy liars propagate deceit,
And fools believe the fictions they repeat;
He who has eyes can see the sickening sight;
Why does not Brahma set his creatures right?
If his wide power no limits can restrain,
Why is his hand so rarely spread to bless?
Why are his creatures all condemned to pain?
Why does he not to all give happiness?

Why do fraud, lies, and ignorance prevail?
Why triumphs falsehood, truth and justice fail?
I count your Brahma one of the unjust among,
Who made a world in which to shelter wrong.
Those men are counted pure who only kill
Frogs, worms, bees, snakes or insects as they will,
These are your savage customs which I hate,
Such as Kamboja hordes might emulate.
If he who kills is counted innocent
And if the victim safe to heaven is sent,
Let Brahmans Brahmans kill so all were well
And those who listen to the words they tell.

At best, God would have be more like the impassive and impersonal God of Aristotle, existing outside of time and space, to find a place within Buddhist cosmology; and anything existing outside of time and space would logically be completely static, meaning that God would be an undynamic being if God exists at all. Since everything within the range of our experience (i.e., within space and time) is subject to change, however, it's more logical to conclude that everything within our realm of experience is impermanent, meaning that for God to able to interact with our universe, God would also be temporal and subject to illness, aging and death just like every other being, hence not God.

Nevertheless, even in the earliest parts of the Pali Canon, there are references to devas or what we might call 'heavenly beings.' However, devas (literally 'radiant ones'), which are often seen as gods when taken literally, are simply non-human beings who are more powerful and long-lived than ordinary humans, and are by no means eternal, omnipresent, omnipotent, etc. (e.g., see DN 1). But more importantly, they can also be viewed metaphorically as the indulgent and hedonistic aspects of our psychology (i.e., the parts that are addicted to sensual pleasures).

In addition, according to AN 3.61, the belief in a supreme being can be unskillful and interfere with Dhamma practice if it leads to the belief that everything a person experiences is due to such a supreme being, a denial of the efficacy of kamma (literally 'action') and a life of inaction:

Having approached the priests & contemplatives who hold that... 'Whatever a person experiences... is all caused by a supreme being's act of creation,' I said to them: 'Is it true that you hold that... "Whatever a person experiences... is all caused by a supreme being's act of creation?"' Thus asked by me, they admitted, 'Yes.' Then I said to them, 'Then in that case, a person is a killer of living beings because of a supreme being's act of creation. A person is a thief... unchaste... a liar... a divisive speaker... a harsh speaker... an idle chatterer... greedy... malicious... a holder of wrong views because of a supreme being's act of creation.' When one falls back on creation by a supreme being as being essential, monks, there is no desire, no effort [at the thought], 'This should be done. This shouldn't be done.' When one can't pin down as a truth or reality what should & shouldn't be done, one dwells bewildered & unprotected. One cannot righteously refer to oneself as a contemplative. This was my second righteous refutation of those priests & contemplatives who hold to such teachings, such views.

Reason #3: In relation to the four noble truths and the practice of the noble eightfold path, the matter of the existence of God is, soteriologically speaking, unnecessary. The impetus of the practice is a strong conviction in the efficacy of actions and the intentions underlying them, not the existence of a supreme being (e.g., see MN 61).

Of course, this doesn't mean that people can't believe in God and still practice the Dhamma, especially some of its more contemplative aspects; but it does mean that, at the very least, such views can negatively impact the practice when held inappropriately. In addition, I understand that a belief in God can provide comfort in difficult times, as well as serve as the basis for a beneficial ethical-spiritual practice. I also accept that certain people may have had some kind of profound spiritual experience that has led them to adopt such beliefs, and I don't have any issues with that myself. (I mean, who am I to argue with someone's personal experiences?)

Moreover, I think one can certainly present Judeo-Christian ideas, or those from any other predominately monotheistic tradition, in a more or less Buddhistic way, and vice versa. As I've often mentioned before, my dear friend Simon shared with me some of his ideas regarding the "excellence of the synthesis of the messages and practices" of Buddhism and Christianity, for example; and people like David Cooper (God is a Verb) and Thomas Merton (Mystics and Zen Masters) seem to continually find harmony between these spiritual disciplines.

And one can't help but notice the similarities between certain Buddhist ideas and those found in Sankara's version of Advaita Vedanta. So much so, in fact, that many of his critics actually accused him of being a Buddhist in disguise. For example, it should be noted that the concept of anatman in Sankara's version of Advaita Vedanta is similar to the Buddhist anatta, quite possibly being derived from it. In one of his commentaries, Sankara writes, "Whenever we deny something unreal, we do so with reference to something real; the unreal snake, e.g. is negatived with reference to the real rope." Sankara essentially used the notion of anatman to deny the reality of the individual self (atman) in favour of Brahman.

But attempting to insert a Judeo-Christian type of God into Buddhism, or interpreting Buddhism proper through the lense of theism, would do violence to the entire spiritual and philosophical tradition, in my opinion. It'd be like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, and would do a serious disservice to the Buddha's teachings, which are geared towards reshaping our experience of the present in ways that limit and even eliminate suffering.

what gets reborn?

The question often arises, If Buddhism doesn't posit a soul, what gets reborn? From the Theravadin point of view (or at least from the point of view of those in Theravada who accept the idea of postmortem rebirth), rebirth is viewed as the continuation of a process—nothing 'remains,' nothing 'transmigrates,' there are merely fleeting phenomena that condition other fleeting phenomena in the interdependent process we call life.

One way to look at it is that a casual process can be self-sustaining, with causes creating effects, and effect acting as causes, creating feedback loops. And if you admit the possibility of immaterial causes and not just material ones (assuming that a clear distinction between the two can even be made), then the continuation of said process isn't limited by or to a single material body. And if you believe Bertrand Russell, the more we understand about matter (i.e., energy), the more the word itself becomes "no more than a conventional shorthand for stating causal laws concerning events" (An Outline of Philosophy).

Here, consciousness isn't seen as a static things going from life to life, but simply as one link or event in a complex causal chain, i.e., moments of consciousness arising and ceasing in rapid succession, with the last consciousness of a being at the time of death immediately conditioning the arising of a new consciousness due to the presence of craving (kind of like 'spooky action at a distance' where two entangled particles communicate with each other instantaneously, even over great distances). It's almost better to think of it as a transmission of information rather than the transmigration of some thing.

Thus, in Buddhism, there can theoretically be continuity between lives without having to posit some type of permanent, unchanging consciousness or soul that travels from life to life. That's why the Pali term vinnanasota or 'stream of consciousness' is often used to describe the flow of conscious events, even when presented within the context of rebirth. (Similarly with terms like bhavangasota (stream of becoming), found in Snp 3.12, and samvattanikamvinnanam (evolving consciousness), found in MN 106.)

Unfortunately, there are no suttas that give a detailed explanation of this process, and the detailed workings of this process are to be found in the Abhidhamma and Pali commentaries. While many people reject the Abhidhamma and commentaries as reliable sources of information regarding what the Buddha taught, I don't think the views of the Buddha and the ancient commentators such as Buddhaghosa are necessarily mutually exclusive.

As for the teachings on not-self (anatta), the basic idea is that whatever is inconstant (anicca) is stressful (dukkha), and whatever is stressful is not-self, since whatever is inconstant, subject to change, and not fully under our control isn't fit to be called 'me' or 'mine' (SN 22.59). Practically speaking, to hold onto anything that's inconstant, subject to change, break-up and dissolution as self is a cause for mental stress and suffering; therefore, the teachings on not-self are designed to help one let go of what isn't self (i.e., the five aggregates) in order to free the mind from the suffering engendered by clinging to ephemeral phenomena.

the power of love

Over the past few months or so, I've developed a growing appreciation for Christianity. Among the similarities I've already found between Buddhism and Christianity, another possibility is their seeming agreement on the salvific power of love.

In Richard Gombrich's new book, What the Buddha Thought, for example, he mentions that, while the idea of loving-kindness (metta) being salvific is often neglected in Theravada (i.e., the general consensus traditionally being that the four brahma-viharas themselves only lead to rebirth in the Brahma realms, not nibbana), there are texts in the Pali Canon extolling kindness and how it can lead to enlightenment. One is the Metta Sutta (found at Khp 9 and Snp 1.8), which begins with extolling kindness towards the world, and climaxes with this passage:

Towards the whole world one should develop loving thoughts boundless: upwards, downwards, sideways, without restriction, enmity or rivalry. Standing, walking, sitting or lying, one should be as alert as possible and keep one's mind on this. They call this divine living in the world. Not taking up ideas, virtuous with perfect insight, by controlling greed for sensual pleasure one does not return to lie in the womb. (Gombrich's translation)

He notes that, "This conclusion to the poem surely corroborates that the whole poem is about how one may become enlightened. Moreover, it is natural to interpret 'not returning to lie in the womb' as meaning that one will have escaped altogether from the cycle of rebirth, which is to say that one will have attained nirvana" (87). Of course, he's careful to point out that the poem doesn't state kindness alone will produce salvific results, and that it mentions other qualities of great importance (e.g., insight and self-control), but then he brings up Dhp 368:

The monk who dwells in kindness, with faith in the Buddha's teachings, may attain the peaceful state, the blissful cessation of conditioning. (Gombrich's translation)

Gombrich concludes this passage is "saying that kindness is salvific, and it is surely no coincidence that the term for nirvana, 'the peaceful state', is the same as the one used at the opening of the Metta Sutta" (87).

So while I'm not sure if love alone can lead to nibbana [the experience of ultimate reality], I'm more inclined to agree with Gombrich that it can be salvific in the proper context. It's one of the ten perfections, after all, which are not only the skillful qualities one develops as one follows the path to nibbana, but the basis of the path to full Buddhahood as well. And this, I think, accords well with passages in the Bible such as, "Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love" (1 John 4:8).

some rambling thoughts on consciouness

Truth be told, I've always found the subject of consciousness an interesting one, from a scientific, as well as a philosophic point of view. Lately (and I'm blaming this on all the philosophy I've been reading in the past few months or so), I've been questioning the sharp distinction that's often made between consciousness and matter.

For example, I find myself agreeing with Bertrand Russell that, the more we understand about matter (i.e., energy), the more it seems the word itself becomes "no more than a conventional shorthand for stating causal laws concerning events" (An Outline of Philosophy). This, of course, raises a number of possibilities, one of them being that what we call 'mind' and 'matter' is ultimately groups or structures of events arising from a substance that's neither mental nor material, but in between the two a la neutral monism.

But even that explanation doesn't fully satisfy me, and I find myself going back to the Buddha and Hume, both of which rejected the idea of mental substance in favour of what Hume called association of ideas and bundle of perceptions, and what the Buddha called heaps (khandha).

As Bertrand Russell summarizes Hume's empiricism, "Ideas of unperceived things or occurrences can always be defined in terms of perceived things or occurrences, and therefore, by substituting the definition for the term defined, we can always state that we know empirically without introducing any unperceived things or occurrences." Thus, "all psychological knowledge can be stated without introducing the 'Self'. Further, the 'Self', as defined can be nothing but a bundle of perceptions, not a new simple 'thing'" (A History of Western Philosophy, 603).

Moreover, I don't reject that specific mental events appear to be contingent upon corresponding physical events in the brain. I think it's been conclusively shown that there's a link between consciousness and the body via the brain, and that when the brain's damaged, the link between consciousness and the body is damaged. However, I'm not convinced that this in and of itself proves that consciousness is merely an emergent property of the brain, or that it ceases to exist when the brain itself no longer functions. Correlation doesn't necessarily imply causation.

I'll admit that it's looking more and more like that's the most likely scenario, but when I read things like The Holographic Universe, Quantum Mechanics and the Participating Observer, or even some of Rupert Sheldrake's crazy ideas regarding morphogeneic fields, I can't help but think that maybe it's not the whole picture. I suppose it could just be wishful thinking on my part, but I'm not ready to jump on the materialist bandwagon just yet.

Perhaps consciousness is simply a by-product of electrochemical processes in the brain, but perhaps there's another dimension to consciousness that science has yet to discover. I'm not saying that there is, mind you, but it's certainly a possibility. As B. Alan Wallace points out in an interview with Steve Paulson in the Templeton-Cambridge Journalism Fellowships in Science & Religion:

This very notion that the mind must simply be an emergent property of the brain — consisting only of physical phenomena and nothing more — is not a testable hypothesis... Can you test the statement that there is nothing else going on apart from physical phenomena and their emergent properties? The answer is no... If your sole access to the mind is by way of physical phenomena, then you have no way of testing whether all dimensions of the mind are necessarily contingent upon the brain.

Unfortunately, I doubt that I'll ever fully understand what consciousness is, or what its relationship to the body (and the material world) is. I'm just not that clever. So, in the end, this is one of those areas where I'll probably always remain somewhat skeptical; although, from a purely empirical point of view, I do find myself leaning more towards the idea that consciousness is simply a by-product of electrochemical processes in the brain based on the evidence we do have. Science can be very convincing in that respect.

Of course, that doesn't mean there isn't more to consciousness than what's been discovered thus far, or that I've completely discounted other possibilities, especially considering the fact that, in the spirit of full disclosure, my ethical-spiritual practice assumes the possibility of a type of continuity involving consciousness that transcends a single birth and death—a belief built on premises that a strict materialist would reject, and with little from an empirical, scientific standpoint to back them up.

I'm comfortable with that, however, because my ethical-spiritual beliefs and practice are ultimately pragmatic, serving a practical purpose that's subjectively beneficial regardless of their objective validity. Incidentally, this is why I tend to have sympathy for theists, even though I don't have any theistic beliefs myself. While I find too many logical inconsistencies in the Bible to view it as the infallible word of God, there are some interesting philosophical arguments for the existence of God (although, not necessarily a personal God); and I understand that a belief in God can provide comfort in difficult times, as well as serve as the basis for a beneficial ethical-spiritual practice, just as my Buddhist beliefs can. I also accept that certain people may have had some kind of profound spiritual experience that has led them to such a belief.

What I generally don't accept, however, are dogmatic statements about absolute truth and/or reality, especially when they stem from an 'appeal to authority' or personal experience. In the former, the validity of a statement rests not on its own logical coherence or truth, but on the supposed status of the source as an 'authority.' In the latter's case, there's generally no way to confirm or deny them, so they're not very useful in proving something to someone who hasn't had them.

buddhism: short and sweet

With so many teachings, trying to sum up Buddhism in a couple of sentences can seem like a daunting challenge, but it's actually quite simple: Buddhism is all about the pursuit of true happiness.

The Buddha approaches the problem of mental stress and suffering like a doctor, formulating the four noble truths in the same way that ancient Indian physicians formulated medical diagnoses, i.e., disease (stress), cause (craving), prognosis (a cure/cessation of craving is possible) and treatment (the noble eightfold path).

While it may sound overly simplistic, the basic premise of the path can be summed up by this short passage from the Dhammapada:

The non-doing of any evil, the performance of what's skillful, the cleansing of one's own mind: this is the teaching of the Awakened.

Ultimately, every teaching in Buddhism is a tool to be used in the pursuit of happiness, and the majority of them focus on our actions and intentions because that's where the real work of moral and spiritual purification takes place (e.g., MN 61). The road to hell happiness is paved with good intentions.

Happiness. It really is just that simple. That's why, in Buddhism, wisdom begins by asking the following questions:

What is skillful, venerable sir? What is unskillful? What is blameworthy? What is blameless? What should be cultivated? What should not be cultivated? What, having been done by me, will be for my long-term harm & suffering? Or what, having been done by me, will be for my long-term welfare & happiness?

vinnanasota

Contrary to what many believe, there are places in the Canon where the term vinnanasota (stream of consciousness) is mentioned. Unlike the term patisandhi-citta (re-linking consciousness), which is only found in the later commentarial literature, vinnanasota can be found in places like DN 28:

Puna caparaṃ, bhante, idhekacco samaṇo vā brāhmaṇo vā ātappamanvāya…pe… tathārūpaṃ cetosamādhiṃ phusati, yathāsamāhite citte imameva kāyaṃ uddhaṃ pādatalā adho kesamatthakā tacapariyantaṃ pūraṃ nānappakārassa asucino paccavekkhati – ‘atthi imasmiṃ kāye kesā lomā…pe… lasikā mutta’nti. Atikkamma ca purisassa chavimaṃsalohitaṃ aṭṭhiṃ paccavekkhati. Purisassa ca viññāṇasotaṃ pajānāti, ubhayato abbocchinnaṃ idha loke appatiṭṭhitañca paraloke appatiṭṭhitañca. Ayaṃ catutthā dassanasamāpatti. Etadānuttariyaṃ, bhante, dassanasamāpattīsu.

Puna caparaṃ, bhante, idhekacco samaṇo vā brāhmaṇo vā ātappamanvāya…pe… tathārūpaṃ cetosamādhiṃ phusati, yathāsamāhite citte imameva kāyaṃ uddhaṃ pādatalā adho kesamatthakā tacapariyantaṃ pūraṃ nānappakārassa asucino paccavekkhati – ‘atthi imasmiṃ kāye kesā lomā…pe… lasikā mutta’nti. Atikkamma ca purisassa chavimaṃsalohitaṃ aṭṭhiṃ paccavekkhati. Purisassa ca viññāṇasotaṃ pajānāti, ubhayato abbocchinnaṃ idha loke patiṭṭhitañca paraloke patiṭṭhitañca. Ayaṃ tatiyā dassanasamāpatti.

Nevertheless, instead of referring to a permanent, unbroken phenomena of consciousness (i.e., consciousness as a static thing or self), as critics of this term often charge, my understanding is that it's simply referring the flow of conscious events or experience, even when presented within the context of rebirth as traditionally understood in Theravada, which is described in terms of moments of consciousness arising and ceasing in rapid succession, with the last consciousness of a being at the time of death immediately conditions the arising of a new consciousness due to the presence of craving (tahna).

It should be noted, however, that the description of moments of consciousness arising and ceasing in rapid succession isn't explicitly found in the Suttas themselves. It's mainly found in the Abhidhamma Pitaka, as well as in post-canonical material like the Vimuttimagga and the Abhidhammattha Sangaha, and is closely associated with the theory of momentariness (khanavada). But the general principle is extrapolated from sources like AN 3.47:

Monks, these three are fabricated characteristics of what is fabricated. Which three? Arising is discernible, passing away is discernible, alteration (literally, other-ness) while staying is discernible.

Or, an alternate translation courtesy of Dhammanando Bhikkhu:

There are, bhikkhus, these three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned. Which three? Arising is manifest. Disappearance is manifest. The changing of what persists is manifest. These, bhikkhus, are the three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned.

Nm 2.4:

Life, personhood, pleasure and pain
- This is all that's bound together
In a single mental event
- A moment that quickly takes place.

Even for the devas who endure
For 84,000 thousand kalpas
- Even those do not live the same
For any two moments of the mind.

What ceases for one who is dead,
Or for one who's still standing here,
Are all just the same heaps
- Gone, never to connect again.

The states which are vanishing now,
And those which will vanish some day,
Have characteristics no different
Than those which have vanished before.

With no production there's no birth;
With "becoming" present, one exists.
When grasped with the highest meaning,
The world is dead when the mind stops.

There's no hoarding what has vanished,
No piling up for the future;
Those who have been born are standing
Like a seed upon a needle.

The vanishing of all these states
That have become is not welcome,
Though dissolving phenomena stand
Uncombined through primordial time.

From the unseen, things come and go.
Glimpsed only as they're passing by;
Like lightning flashing in the sky
- They arise and then pass away.

And probably even SN 12.61:

It would be better for the uninstructed run-of-the-mill person to hold to the body composed of the four great elements, rather than the mind, as the self. Why is that? Because this body composed of the four great elements is seen standing for a year, two years, three, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, a hundred years or more. But what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another. Just as a monkey, swinging through a forest wilderness, grabs a branch. Letting go of it, it grabs another branch. Letting go of that, it grabs another one.

From the Theravadin point of view, these mind-moments or moments of consciousness aren't seen as fixed or static entities but conditioned phenomena (i.e., they don't arise on their own or in a vacuum), which, due to the logical implications of anicca (inconstancy) and anatta (not-self), is a position Theravada is forced to reject. Hence, the idea of discrete phenomenal objects is replaced by the theory of momentariness, exchanging things for events, wherein one moment of consciousness arises, persists/changes and ceases in a complex, self-sustaining causal chain, with each event a result as well as a cause in that chain.

Moreover, if you admit the possibility of immaterial causes and not just material ones (assuming that a clear distinction between the two can even be made at a fundamental), then the continuation of said process isn't necessarily limited by or to a single material body. It's a theory of events that allows for continuity without the need for fixed and static elements or self, and is a natural outcome of deconstructing conscious experience into its constituent events.

In one essay, Bhikkhu Nanajivako presents some interesting comparisons between the Buddhist theory of anicca and modern philosophy, especially the similarities between the Buddhist theory of momentariness and some of things Bertrand Russell writes in An Outline of Philosophy:

Now, let us get a few quotations from Bertrand Russell. First, as regards substance-matter, he says:

In former days, you could believe it on a philosophical ground that the soul is a substance and all substances are indestructible... But the notion of substance, in the sense of a permanent entity with changing states, is no longer applicable to the world.

A wave in the sea persists for a longer or shorter time: the waves that I see dashing themselves to pieces on the Cornish coast may have come all the way from Brazil, but that does not mean that a "thing" has traveled across the Atlantic; it means only that a certain process of change has traveled.

[Einstein's theory of relativity] has philosophical consequences which are, if possible, even more important. The substitution of space-time for space and time has made the category of substance less applicable than formerly, since the essence of substance was persistent through time, and there is now no one cosmic time.

We found that matter, in modern science, has lost its solidity and substantiality; it has become a mere ghost haunting the scenes of its former splendor... The notion of matter, in modern physics, has become absorbed into the notion of energy.

We cannot say that "matter is the cause of our sensations."... In a word, "matter" has become no more than a conventional shorthand for stating causal laws concerning events.

Thus we are committed to causation as an a priori belief without which we should have no reason for supposing that there is a "real" chair (or any thing) at all.

Next, as regards the theory of events, we note that the idea of fixed and static elements of "matter" has been replaced by that of undeterminable "events" corresponding to the quantum electrodynamic field theory in nuclear physics, which comes very close to the conception of a non-physical but purely phenomenological idea of dhammaa, implied in its primitive significance by kha.nika-vaado, or theory of momentariness, of the Abhidhamma-pi.takam. (This latter aspect, explicitly philosophical, will be sketched in Five, below.) Of this Russell writes:

Everything in the world is composed of "events."... An "event" is something occupying a small finite amount of space-time... Events are not impenetrable, as matter is supposed to be; on the contrary, every event in space-time is overlapped by other events.

I assume that every event is contemporaneous with events that are not contemporaneous with each other; this is what is meant by saying that every event lasts for a finite time... Time is wholly relational.

Space-time order, as well as space-time points, results from the relations between events.

Compare with this last statement, and with those that follow, the assertion of Buddhaghosa in Atthasaalini: "By time the sage described the mind, and by mind described the time."

Lastly, Russell says of mental events:

An important group of events, namely percepts, may be called "mental."

Mentality is an affair of causal laws, not of the quality of single events, and also, mentality is a matter of degree.

What is mind?... Mind must be a group of mental events, since we have rejected the view that it is a single simple entity such as the ego was formerly supposed to be... Its constitution corresponds however to "the unity of one 'experience.'"

As a result of these considerations, Russell concludes that "first of all, you must cut out the word 'I': the person who believes is an inference, not a part of what you know immediately."

In essence, moments of consciousness arising and passing away in succession simply implies that there's a type of continuity involved in conscious experience, nothing more. So when talking about a 'stream of consciousness,' it shouldn't be understood as a singular, discrete phenomenon, but a series of conditioned events that share a particular causal relationship. The same applies to terms like bhavangasota (stream of becoming), found in Snp 3.12, and samvattanikamvinnanam (evolving consciousness), found in MN 106. For example, from Piyadassi Thera's book, Dependent Origination:

In the Aneñjasappāya Sutta, the vipāka viññaṇa is referred to as saṃvattanikaṃ viññāṇaṃ, the consciousness that links on, that proceeds in one life as vipāka from the kamma in the former life.

When it is said, "the consciousness that links on," it does not mean that this consciousness abides unchanged, continues in the same state without perishing throughout this cycle of existence. Consciousness is also conditioned, and therefore is not permanent. Consciousness also comes into being and passes away yielding place to new consciousness. Thus this perpetual stream of consciousness goes on until existence ceases. Existence in a way is consciousness. In the absence of consciousness no “being” exists in this sentient world.

And besides Piyadassi Thera, who comes from a more traditional Theravada background, people like Prof. Gombrich, scholar of Pali and Sanskrit, founder of the Oxford Centre for Buddhist Studies and past president of the Pali Text Society, and Prof. Kalupahana, Buddhist scholar and professor philosophy at the University of Hawaii, are also aware of this term and express a similar understanding of it. For example, from Gombrich's What the Buddha Thought:

Famously, the Buddha's approach to life's problems was pragmatic. Our problems are urgent, and irrelevant theorizing is a silly as refusing to receive treatment for an arrow wound until you know the name of the man who shot the arrow. Today we see the world as in perpetual motion, and that reminds people of the Buddhist principle of impermanence. True, the Buddha saw our experience as an ever-changing process, a stream of consciousness — the literal Pali equivalent of that expression does occur. But we are talking physics, whereas the Buddha was talking psychology. (67)

And from Kalupahana's Buddhist Philosophy, A Historical Analysis:

All this is evidence that it is consciousness that serves as a connecting link between two lives, and this, of course is unequivocally stated in the early Buddhist texts. Several times it is mentioned that a person who has developed extrasensory perception is able "to perceive a man's unbroken flux of consciousness established both in this world and in the next." This stream of consciousness (vinnanasota) is the same as the stream of becoming (bhavasota) mentioned often in the early discourses.

It is important to note that in the early texts there is no mention of this consciousness surviving even for a moment without the support of a psychophysical personality. In other words, early Buddhism does not contribute to a theory of disembodied existence. (52)

Another controversial yet semi-related concept found in both Mahayana and Theravada is the idea of a subconsciousness and/or storehouse consciousness. While technically a type of mind consciousness (mano-vinnana), this particular aspect of consciousness is often presented separately, and mainly posited to account for the times when active consciousness lapses, e.g., during deep sleep.

This type of consciousness, called bhavanga-citta in Theravada and alaya-vijnana in Mahayana, is often used to account for the continuity of individuals, especially over multiple lifetimes. In one essay, Walpola Rahula attempts to show that the three layers of mind as presented by Asanga have their origins in the Pali Canon:

Thus we can see that vijnana represents the simple reaction or response of the sense-organs when they come in contact with external objects. This is the uppermost or superficial aspect or layer of the vijnanaskandha. Manas represents the aspect of its mental functioning, thinking, reasoning, conceiving ideas, etc. Citta, which is here called alayavijnana, represents the deepest, finest and subtlest aspect or layer of the Aggregate of Consciousness. It contains all the traces or impressions of the past actions and all good and bad future potentialities. The Sandhinirmocana-sutra also says that alayavijnana is called citta (Tibetan sems).

It is generally believed that alayavijnana is purely a Mahayana doctrine and that nothing about it is found in Hinayana. But in the Mahayanasangraha, Asanga himself says that in the Sravakayana (= Hinayana) it is mentioned by synonyms (paryaya) and refers to a passage in the Ekottaragama which reads: 'People (praja) like the alaya (alayarata), are fond of the alaya (alayarama), are delighted in the alaya (alayasammudita), are attached to the alaya (alayabhirata). When the Dharma is preached for the destruction of the alaya, they wish to listen (susrusanti) and lend their ears (srotram avadadhanti), they put forth a will for the perfect knowledge (ajnacittam upasthapayanti) and follow the path of Truth (dharmanudharma-pratipanna). When the Tathagata appears in the world (pradurbhava), this marvellous (ascarya) and extraordinary (adbhuta) Dharma appears in the world.'

Lamotte identifies this Ekottaragama passage with the following passage in the Pali Anguttaranikaya (A II, p.131): Alayarama bhikkhave paja alayarata alayasammudita, sa Tathagatena analaye dhamme desiyamane sussuyati sotam odahati annacittam upattapeti. Tathagatassa bhikkhave arahato sammasambuddhassa patubhava ayam pathamo acchariyo abbhuto dhammo patubhavati.

Of course, the majority of the above should be understood as much later elaborations based on terms and ideas found within the early discourses, and shouldn't simply be accepted as reflecting the Buddha's teachings in the early discourses themselves. It's always good to challenge these ideas and see if there are areas where they conflict with the Suttas and with our own experience. That's the approach the Buddha himself advises in places like AN 3.65 and MN 38, with passages like:

"Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you say: 'We have reverence for the Teacher. We say it out of reverence to the Teacher'?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you say: 'Our recluse said it, these are the recluse’s words. But we do not say that'?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you acknowledge another teacher?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you seek meaning in religious rites, ceremonies or festivals of other recluses and brahmins?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, is it that you yourself knowing, seeing and experiencing this speak thus?" "Yes, venerable sir."

"Good, O, Bhikkhus, I have led you in this Dhamma which is visible here and now, timeless, open to inspection, leading onwards and to be experienced by the wise for themselves. It was in reference to this that it was said: 'Bhikkhus, this Dhamma is visible here and now, timeless, open to inspection, leading onwards and to be experienced by the wise for themselves'."