Q&A: From Teacher to Student

I am working on a few new essays, but in the meantime, I wanted to post some answers I sent to a student in response to his questions about Buddhism. It’s been an honor to be a teacher in many ways. One of the greater honors is when students have an unbounded curiosity for a certain subject, and they trust you to be able to give them a reliable answer. That is a very good feeling. The questions and answers are below. They focus on the Buddhist approaches to the concepts of “pain” and “self.” Since adult life is always busy and hectic, I hope these satisfy any curiosities you may have as well before I get any more essays written.

Q: Buddhists believe that pain is a part of life, and yet their key goals are to break that cycle of suffering and escape. So which is it? Do they accept pain as what will inevitably happen or do they reject it and try to escape?

A: Buddhists do believe pain is a part of life, but that pain is a part of life mostly due to an error in our perception regarding our subjective world views and attachment to a sense of individuality/self that separates us from the rest of the living things around us. While the first Noble Truth of Buddhism is usually “Life is Suffering,” the translation never really does justice to the original statement. Here are the first two noble truths as laid out by the historical Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama:

1. Life is dukkha

2. Dukkha arises from/is caused by tanha

Now, the original use of these words is important because depending on how you choose to focus on them it can create either a positive or negative interpretation of Buddhadharma (i.e., Buddhist philosophy). Dukkha can be translated as suffering, but is more or less meant as “unsatisfactoriness.” Same with tanha – it can be translated as “desire,” but is more akin to the word “longing.”

If I long for something, I want it, and if I cannot have it, then I find my life to be unsatisfactory, or in my direct terms, I suffer. And even if I still do obtain that object that I desired, then I may still be unsatisfied with it, because the only reason I thought it would make me whole in the first place was because I did not have that object. But now that I do, I realize that it didn’t really help me feel any richer or more like myself.

The fact that you want anything at all, that we long for certain things and then are eventually disappointed by them, arises from what Buddhists perceive to be a false sense of self. Insofar as what the “self” is, the “self” is usually what humans think is this unchanging, definable trait that helps others pinpoint exactly who we are. However, Siddhartha disagreed with this. He said there is actually no lasting permanent self – our senses, consciousness, and form are always changing and in flux, never staying the same. For example, you never have the same skin cells – they replace themselves every five years or so. So, in essence, you have a different body. This can be supported just by the simple fact of growing up – people grow taller, they have less bones, they start to lose their hair, etc. Nothing that people usually hold onto as definable or immutable qualities stay constant.

This is where the process of meditation comes in. Meditation as a tool is supposed to help people realize the intensely dynamic and fluid nature of reality and our thoughts. Because our idea of “self” comes from an error in our perception of our world, meditation is a tool Buddhists use to try to approach the world from a more objective/compassionate/fair basis (or what have you). Once we extinguish the idea of a constant self, we are getting rid of the longing/greed/desire that causes suffering in the first place. It’s essentially a shifting of our balance, so to speak. Instead of thinking “This is what I need,” or “I want this because it’s what will help me,” Buddhists try to think in broader terms, relating ourselves back to the world and to each other. Which is one of the major principles of Buddhist philosophy: interdependent co-origination. No living being is separate from another living being; no thing arises independent of anything else. Total and complete connection and change – these are the two main things we can start to observe about the world after we learn to change our perceptions.

Buddhists go deeper and deeper into this type of thinking to get out of the cycle of birth and death (samsara) in order to attain nirvana (trans.: extinction). Most people think nirvana is a blissed-out state, but it’s essentially taking the concept/idea of self and completely rendering it null and void. Once we transcend our selfish and subjective view of the world, we have a more enlightened nature of the world around us. Now, there are two schools of thought as your history teahcher may teach you about: Theravada Buddhism and Mahayana Buddhism. Theravada (translated as “Way of the Saints”) is the closest we have to the original form of Buddhism in some ways – they believe in meditating to totally take themselves out of samsara, attain nirvana, and then teach others this “path towards enlightenment.” Mahayana Buddhism is a later form of Buddhism that encapsulates such schools as Zen. Mahayana Buddhists believe that samsara = nirvana, nirvana = samsara. In other words, enlightened nature is not different from the world as we know it in it’s truest sense.

Therefore, the entire goal of Buddhism is to take that life is suffering, which in turn is caused by a sense of desire, and cut off the idea of self (I, me, my) that causes this sense of incompleteness and unsatisfactoriness in the first place. So there is no running from suffering or desire – it’s just that we must cut off the root of it if we do not want to continue suffering.

Q: Do Buddhists think the ONLY way to avoid desire is just to remove “self” entirely?

A:

Your question: Do Buddhists think the only way to avoid desire to just to remove “self” entirely?

Subsequent point related to the question: Appears to be the total removal of all personality and characteristics.

Logical quandary: How can one remove the self?

Answer to the quandary: There is no self to remove.

What we are dealing with here appears to be a logical paradox – Buddhists want to get rid of the notion of self, but insofar as they recognize there is a self to vanquish, they are admitting as to the inherent existence of a self. Which is an argument that people have used in the last two centuries, especially Western philosophers and theologians, to negate Buddhist philosophy. However, Buddhism recognizes life to be inherently paradoxical. The fact that we believe in a self does not in-and-of-itself substantiate the claim of the self, only of our perception and opinion that there is a self – an opinion/perception that is inherently wrong. To negate self is not to negate something that inherently exists, but to negate the perception of it. Think of the notion of a self as a sort of mist/haze that blinds us to the existence, feelings, and lives of other human beings.

This mist/haze that is the idea of self is essentially cogito ergo sum – I think therefore I am. Buddhism can be said to approach cogito ergo sum in two ways: 1) Of course you think and therefore have a sense of self, the self is inherently an idea, and as long as you hold onto the perceptions, thoughts, and emotions we believe define our static notion of self, you will always believe in it and 2) To substantiate your sense of existence inherently on sense is to presuppose that there is actually no permanent self. Only as long as you can interact with a small simulacrum of the world will you ever be able to think you exist; once we stop interacting with the world, there is nothing. And, in it’s paradoxical fashion, Buddhism says no to both of these things, because both of these approaches boil down to what is referred to as solipsism – you can only ever know your self exists and nothing else outside of it.

So, given either interpretation, we are blinded to what Buddhists see as our true nature by stating: 1) Our thoughts create an illusory sense of self because we are overly attached to what they represent and 2) our sensory experience of the world can also be clouded by our perception and attachment to certain phenomena and what we associate with them. In essence, we have to realize that, simply because we see a snowflake as white with our eye, does not mean it is white. Snowflake = white. A = A. Just in the same way, we may see a piece of coal as black. Coal = black. B=B. However, whenever we think of a different animal that may have a larger spectrum of colors they are able to see, then the game changes. Let’s say a bird has a greater range of ultraviolet light able to be absorbed into it’s cornea and can see more colors than a human. To that bird, maybe the snowflake looks black. And all of a sudden, the piece of coal appears to be white. The equation is flipped. Snowflake = black. All of a sudden, A=B.

Which brings us back to the mist/haze of the self. We believe in the concreteness of the self insofar as we believe in the concreteness and absolutism of our experience as an individual being. We see the snowflake as white, therefore it must be truly white. I hold onto these thoughts, feelings, and memories as to who I am, therefore they must make up this person I know as Ryan. In reality, the color of the snowflake and the thoughts-feelings-memories we hold onto are both a type of mist/haze. As long as we are not able to look beyond the limit of our experience, we are thus continually mired in this illusory sense of an unchanging, unmovable self. Whereas all along the self never existed because it was an illusion created by an attachment to our experience of the world and of what makes up our mindstuff (scientific term right there).

This is where the Buddhist concept of sunyata (emptiness) comes into play. As we exist, things are inherently empty and void of any traits that could be said to define things as greater or lesser than the whole. In a way, sunyata has a lot to do with the Christian concept of kenosis (self-emptying). Kenosis is the idea that we have to empty ourselves of the notion of self before we are able to let the divine will as defined b Christian belief have a greater part in our understanding of the world. It is based on the self-emptying of Jesus Christ’s own nature at the Crucifixion – Jesus emptied himself of his divine nature to take on a fully human form (which, if you think about it, is itself a paradox of sorts: a man at once both fully human and fully divine. It would technically be considered impossible. Luckily, the faith tradition of Catholicism you participate in does have a lot more to say about this). Even in this sense, there is not a complete sense of self Jesus Christ himself has to hold onto – if his nature is fully divine as well as fully human, not only is he participating in his own pain as an individual person, but he is also participating in the drama of the universe as it continually unfolds and folds back upon itself – for if the divine is eternal, it would have to be even beyond a sense of self because it is beyond the phenomenal constraints of our universe.

Both sunyata and kenosis make one thing clear: our idea of self-nature and of true nature are beyond a rational sort of thinking. This is where the Zen Buddhist tradition of the koan comes into play (we can talk more about that later). But, to wrap it up nicely, both of these ideas find their middle ground in theologia negativa or negative theology. The best thing you can do to picture negative theology is to imagine a stained glass window with an image on it. The image is colorful and pretty and depicts a scene from a story, but it is not the actual nature of the stained glass window. So to better understand what the window is, you start to pick apart the painting that makes up the stained glass window. Bit by bit, you are left with nothing but a clear window with a bright light coming through it and reflected by it. And that’s what we are looking for by discarding the notion of self, of I-my-me – the bright light that is the truth behind the picture and the story it depicts.

Growing into Faith: Taking Responsibility for Truth

If my last article was an exhortation for people to take their time to become more educated about the topic of religion, this next article is the natural outgrowth of learning and growing – to take responsibility and act maturely.

Those were the themes I had in mind as I chose the picture above as the banner for this article. A photo of young Buddhist monks being presented at the temple for their ordination, these young monks will most likely spend their days reading scripture, traveling from monastery to monastery to learn from different teachers, and eventually settle down into one particular community, taking responsibility for the life of their monastic community and overall well-being of their home.

This is how most of us enter our faith tradition, as young children, unaware of the tradition or the teachings we are about to embody for the rest of our lives. This is not necessarily a bad thing; people baptize and initiate their children into various faith/wisdom traditions each and every day with the best of intentions that following the particular teachings of that tradition will help make them a good person. However, initiation into a certain faith can also be the result of an unquestioning adherence to family tradition and societal norms. The latter is not necessarily bad either, it just comes off as lazy.

I can hear what some people may be saying as they read that last paragraph.

“Not everyone has the time to learn as much about religion as you think they should learn.”

“Maybe they like the tradition they entered into, there’s noting wrong with that.”

“Why am I reading this article when I could be doing a hundred other more productive things with my life?”

Well, dear reader, you hit the nail on the head with that last one. As for the first two statements, I do not disagree. I am neither asking people to devote their free time to constantly reading books about religion and culture, nor am I asking people to abandon the faith and traditions they grew up with. Yet, there is a precedent set within the great wisdom traditions themselves, a precedent of introspection and dialogue that should be met as often as possible. The majority of believers do not want to engage in any sort of dialogue with their faith or what they believe. But if you are going to church, temple, or meditation every day without asking the hard questions, well…

Then you may not have any faith at all.

This is a question of profundity as much as it is a question of authenticity. Spirituality lends itself to profound experiences and profound conundrums, but it is whether we face the questions the profundity of the universe puts on us that defines the authenticity of both our beliefs and our being. As I said in the previous article, we need to educate ourselves, and in educating ourselves to have an open mind. Only by having an open mind are we bound to have an experience that is the antithesis of quiescent faith – we start to have a relation with the world. As the Catholic mystic Thomas Merton writes in his posthumous work Love and Living:

“The purpose of education is to show us how to define ourselves authentically and spontaneously in relation to our world – not to impose a prefabricated definition of the world, still less an arbitrary definition of ourselves as individuals. The world is made up of the people who are fully alive in it: that is, of the people who can be themselves in it and can enter into a living and fruitful relationship with each other in it. The world is, therefore, more real in proportion as the people in it are able to be more fully and more humanly alive: that is to say, better able to make a lucid and conscious use of their freedom.”

We could take this as a more theologically fanciful way of saying “the unexamined life is not worth living,” but that is not what Merton is trying to say. Spirituality/Religion/Faith/Shopping at Target is a realm of being and understanding we can only start to truly be involved with when we engage in the dialogue/dialectic it presents to us. Being in dialogue with your spirituality is to hold up a mirror to yourself – to engage with yourself and your own questions is to engage with God.

Therefore, the wiggle room for “God told me to do this,” or “God said stealing that Porsche was okay because that man did not really need it” (he didn’t really need it anyway, no worries, you’re in the clear) becomes nonexistent. As in, there’s no room for that bullshit. The realm of religiosity or spirituality does not afford us the convenience of leaving everything up to a higher power or say he was the reason we did everything in the first place. The primary issue with this way of thinking is that it lends itself to determinism, which, fine, I guess it’s totally not my fault I ate that whole pizza by myself, it was supposed to happen anyway. Secondly, this is the highest mark of a lack of maturity or growth. The practices and precepts people of faith follow are not there so we can rely on Christ, Buddha, Jehovah, or Guru Nanak Dev. They are there to help you become a fully realized, and possible even an awakened, person.

We have a responsibility to ask the difficult questions. We cannot be afraid to evolve and change as people. This fear of understanding just how quickly and abruptly we may change is what usually makes people slink back from engaging with difficult questions in the first place. However, it is fear itself that metastasizes into the traits that faith routinely works against. Fear leads to ignorance, ignorance leads to hate, and hate ultimately leads to suffering. If you want to become a Sith Lord, that’s cool, then I just laid out the path to your ultimate success for you without having to watch the prequels (you are very welcome, no thanks needed). As I said in my last article, we need to have open minds, and that means we must be open to change and open to the unknown. Only when we confront the situations of our life with open hearts are we able to radically respond in new ways and radically renew our relationship with the world.

The best example I can muster is one that the Father of Existentialism, Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) brings up in one of his more famous works, Fear and Trembling. In this work, Kierkegaard uses Abraham, the patriarch of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, as his main character. Usually taken as a model of great faith and fortitude, Kierkegaard gives us an altogether different individual. The Abraham we encounter in Kierkegaard’s writing is one that is constantly plagued by doubt and consternation as to the reason why his new deity has asked him to travel so far from civilization, only to give him a son in his old age so that he may sacrifice him as an offering to the divine.

Abraham follows through with carrying out the task (until he is told he does not have to sacrifice his son, that it was all a test), but all the time he is fearful of what may happen if he does not listen to this god and constantly questions the wisdom and sanity of what he is about to do. In this individual, in this model of the “dark night of faith,” we see a figure who is plagued by doubt and change and an inability to comprehend what he is about to do. But he takes responsibility for his actions and carries them out, wracked with guilt before the change of fortune at the end.

Life, and life lived through faith traditions, is messy. We do not always have the answers we may want or seek, but we must ask the questions necessary for not only our survival, but our growth as a people. Constant questions can drive anyone crazy, and that is not the point of this article, but we must learn to be mature and reasonable people in the midst of opaque and existential phenomena in our interior lives. We cannot pretend the situations and frames of mind we find ourselves in from time to time are enjoyable, or that there will be an invisible force alongside us to always get us out of a jam. The best way to grow is to engage with whatever faith you may hold, because only by communicating with the principles and foundation of our being are we able to possibly find the Truth we may have always been searching for, even if we never knew what we were looking for in the first place. You may be surprised what you find when you learn to shoulder the weight of what our faiths may entail.

“Come, seek, for search is the foundation of fortune: every success depends upon focusing the heart.” – Rumi