The Zennist

The Buddha's attendant, Ananda

For the first twenty years, after his enlightenment, the Buddha did not have a permanent attendant.  In fact, the Buddha had well over a half dozen attendants such as Nagasamala, Nagita, Upavana, Sunakkhatta, the novice Cunda, Sagata, Radha and Meghiya.  (Sunakkhatta, quit the Buddhist Order after converting to the teachings of Korakkhattiya.  Sunakkhatta attempted to defame the Buddha by saying that he was not superhuman and his teaching would not lead to the destruction of suffering.  His main criticism of the Buddha was that he was unable to perform any miracles or show the beginning of things.)

Twenty years after the Buddha’s enlightenment, the Buddha declared he was advanced in years which, some speculate, may have been due to the extreme asceticism (tapas) that he practiced before his enlightenment (he suffered, it is said, from some kind of intestinal disorder).  The Buddha then decided that his first cousin, Ananda, would be his permanent attendant.  The Buddha’s choice of Ananda gives us a good indication just how prematurely aged the Buddha may have been since Ananda was the same age as the Buddha and obviously in much better health (Ananda was born on the same day as the Buddha).

For twenty-five years Ananda out of great love waited on the Buddha; who followed him like a shadow.  He brought the Buddha his water and toothpick.  Ananda washed the feet of the Buddha and kept the Buddha’s cell clean.  It is said at night that Ananda, with a staff and torch in hand, stayed awake in case the Buddha needed him; who also prevented the Buddha from being disturbed during his sleep.  Ananda protected his  master making sure that he would not be harmed; willing to sacrifice his life if it came to protecting the Buddha.  Ananda even functioned as a nurse making gruel for the Buddha who suffered from wind in the stomach.

Ananda, you could also say, was the Buddha’s eyes and ears—but also his personal secretary.  He set up interviews and the Buddha’s teaching schedule.  Ananda also kept at arm’s length the Buddha’s all too many admirers.

Ananda was sought out for his wise counsel and expertise on various doctrinal matters.  He also had a great reputation for being able to expound the Dharma.  In some instances, the Buddha purposely made his discourse terse and short so that Ananda, afterwards, might expand upon it and, if needs be, answer questions—saving the Buddha from such tedium.  Ananda, you could say, was a skilled scholiast; who also was a mystic, that is, a noble disciple (ariya-savaka) who had entered the stream (sotâpanna) after hearing a discourse by Punna Mantaniputta (later, Ananda became an Arhat).

Ananda was a tremendous help to the Buddha throughout his remaining years.  But after the Buddha’s death, it seems that Ananda’s fortunes changed.  There seems to have been a struggle between Maha Kassapa ((Skt., Mahakashyapa)) and Ananda, the former, for example, blaming Ananda for admitting people to the Order who were not tractable.  Maha Kassapa even went so far as to call Ananda, “a corn trampler” and a “boy”.

Taking into consideration that the Buddha left no Dharma heir behind, this being apparent in the Discourse to Gopaka-Moggallana (M. iii. 9) where we learn that no Monk or Brahman can be the support since they are not spiritually equal to the Buddha (Dharma, instead, we learn is to be the support), it is astonishing to read this verse by Maha Kassapa.  It seems to be lacking modesty.

When some are distressed climbing up the mountain, there Kassapa climbs, the heir of the Buddha, attentive, mindful, supported by his supernormal power (Theragatha, 1058).

Now compare the above with Ananda’s verse.

“The old ones have passed away; I do not get on with the new ones.  Today I meditate all alone, like a bird gone to its nest” (Theragatha 1036).

One almost gets the sense that Maha Kassapa took over the reigns of the Order and pushed old Ananda out into the cold, so to speak (remember, Ananda would be in his 80s).  There is more I could say about the character of Maha Kassapa but that is for another day.

Buddhism: the final religion

 What Buddhism has to offer a future world is nothing short of astonishing.  Of course, speculation about a Star Trek like futuristic Buddhism will certainly generate skepticism and ridicule, especially from those who are strongly attached to theology and materialism.  But if these critics have bothered to read the canon of Buddhism with an esoteric eye, as it should be read, the basis of their skepticism lies outside of Buddhism so as to be unworthy of a serious response.

In the world of tomorrow in which Buddhism will, more than likely, be the world’s main religion, we will be able to decouple and re-couple, at will, with artificially engineered biological bodies.  Death, and the fear of sickness, as we know it, will be a thing of the past.  We will all primarily exist in thought-made bodies (manomaya-kaya); the form of which, according to the Buddha, is not deficient in any sense organ (M. ii. 17).

If, as these super beings, we desire to travel to other worlds to propagate the teachings of the Buddha out of compassion, we can either interface with artificial bodies, by which we will be able to fly our faster than light space craft, or we can directly enter the bodies of those we deem fit to teach.  In this way, we will empower them so they may eventually alter the suffering matrix of their world. (We would also be able to transfer advanced technology to such people through our thought-made bodies.)

Being such an advanced race of beings who are in nirvana, which means we can couple with and decouple from artificially created bodies at will, our main mission will be to alleviate suffering where ever it exists in any star system, in any galaxy.  Nothing would stop us from removing the dark veil of oppression and spiritual blindness that dominates the minds of primitive creatures throughout the universe.  We would be very much like Plato’s Guardians described in the Republic.

Maybe five thousand years from now our technological advances should be so well along so as to make our present technology seen primitive.  Along with this—and this is where Buddhism comes in—our ability to break our immediate interface with our biological body of birth and death, at will as a technique, will be significantly advanced which now seems almost impossible.

Such a world or worlds, I believe, already exist which we would find towards the center of our galaxy.  These civilizations we can think of as being so spiritually advanced that being a Buddha is common place.  From this we might consider Shakyamuni Buddha and other such humans as highly evolved Earth beings much like the appearance of modern man who eventually surpassed Neanderthals.

Well, does this sound crazy?  Considering what has happened to me over these last forty years, which was the inspiration for this blog—some of it would make great science fiction, although it isn’t fiction.  Among other things, I saw with my own eyes that being bound down to a body of flesh and bones by strong desire dummyfies us such that we close off what we can actually become in the way of compassionate super-beings (i.e., Bodhisattvas) who are cognizant of the luminous power of Mind.  

If you’ve guessed that each of us has what it takes to make such a Star Trek like world a reality, you’re not wrong.  What needs now to be done is to have great faith that we can transform our present almost-troglodyte-world into a Sukhavati (i.e., the pure land).

Attached to the wheel of samsara

 The ordinary person (prithagjana) lives continually under the spell that they are the psychophysical body which Buddhism calls the Five Aggregates consisting of form, sensation, thought, inclination and sensory consciousness.  

It may never dawn on such people that this body of theirs is not who they really are; that although they interface with it without break, their true nature is independent and other than the Five Aggregates, the latter being illusory.  These same people are also unaware that their extraordinary desire to pursue phenomena, by which they become bound down to the Five Aggregates, means they have, in total ignorance, thrown themselves into transmigratory existence (samsara) from which there is no escape—at lest no apparent escape.

Turning to the subject of transmigratory existence, consciousness, again and again, by the force of habit to interface with phenomenal bodies, enters another body after death; one that it finds fitting based on its past inclinations.

“Just as a silkworm makes a cocoon in which to wrap itself and then leaves the cocoon behind, so consciousness produces a body to envelop itself and then leaves that body to undergo other karmic results in a new body” (Mahâratnakûta Sutra).

In effect, ordinary people attach themselves to the wheel of transmigration by their will (karma) which means they are always thirsting for ways of being which are inadequate with pure Mind; which consequently throws them into samsara with its varying degrees of suffering.  For example, those who will to higher forms of being, which would be the gods or devas, are more proximate with pure Mind.  As a result, such beings naturally experience less suffering since they are nearer Mind’s luminosity.  This would not be the case with the denizens in the hells.  This gati or destiny is polar opposite to the destiny of the gods in which horrible suffering is the rule because the will is not at all proximate with Mind—going even against it. 

While all this sounds quite fanciful to the skeptical modern mind, a word of caution is advised.  In more advanced star systems towards the center of our galaxy where evolution has been going on considerably longer than on our heavy gravity planet, there are beings who, were we to meet them face-to-face, we might consider them to be god-like.  Chances are we might even be terrified of them as animals are of humans.  For more study of this particular topic from a Western perspective, I advise reading as much as you can of the English philosopher Samuel Alexander (1859–1938) who wrote Space, Time, and Deity (1920).  The following might be of help for those who haven’t the time to take this up.

“The basic stuff of the universe is space-time or pure motion, and everything in it develops out of the primary stuff by a process of emergent evolution.  Things or substances are volumes of space-time with a determinate contour; low in the scale of evolution is matter, whence emerges life and finally, so far as we are concerned, mind; but no one can say what will emerge later in the evolutionary process.  The next stage to which the universe is striving is at that stage deity; God is in the making but never actual.  On this metaphysical foundation, Alexander built a realist theory of knowledge” (Urmson & Rée, The Concise Encyclopedia of Western Philosophy and Philosophers, p. 6).

No mind for the profound

The bulk of Buddhism’s devotees, like children, have no mind for the profound part of the Buddha’s teaching; who tend to like their Buddhism sweet and non-nutritious with lots of gaudiness thrown in, in the way of ceremonies, wearing of robes, physical practices, etc.  And like children, they like their literature dumbed-down; without nuance.

 

The Buddha well understood this as probably no other religious teacher and so cleverly divided his teaching into one for the not-so-bright (prithagjana) and one for the bright (arya-sravaka).  When, for example, we hear of the Chatvâri ârya-satyâni (Four Noble Truths), the average Buddhist is unaware for whom these truths were originally intended.  They just assume they are being addressed to them.  But the Buddha was not giving these truths to the mundane person or prithagjana.  These truths are only meant for arya-sravaka (in Pali it is ariya-savaka) who have a high spiritual IQ, so to speak.  These truths cannot be understood by the mundane mind, in other words.

 

In the Ariya-savaka Sutta of the Pali canon (S. ii. 77) the Buddha provides us with some important details as to who an arya-sravaka really is.  (Italics mine.)

 

“Bhikkhus, when a noble disciple [arya-sravaka/ariya-savaka] thus understands as they really are the origin and the passing away of the world, he is then called a noble disciple who is accomplished in view, accomplished in vision, who has arrived at this true Dhamma [sad-dharma], who sees this true Dhamma, who possesses a trainee’s knowledge, a trainee’s true knowledge, who has entered the stream [srotapatti] of the Dhamma, a noble one with penetrative wisdom, one who stands squarely before the door to the Deathless” (trans. Bhikkhu Bodhi).

 

Surely, the reader can see that the arya-sravaka ain’t no run-of-the-mill, mundane person.  They have come to see the Buddha’s Dharma which is the true substance of the universe; which is without equal.  In the same breath, they stand squarely before the door (dvara) to the Deathless (amrita).  

 

An aside, I should mention that originally the term “Bodhisattva” referred to an arya-sravaka who truly understood the Dharma—not to someone simply superior to an arya-sravaka (cp. Prajnaparamita and related systems: Studies in honor of Edward Conze, p. 8).

 

Keeping all the above in mind, like The Four Noble Truths, the Arya-ashtanga-marga (The Noble Eightfold Path) is likewise intended only for arya-sravaka.  It simply cannot be understood by non-aryasravakas or prithagjana.  I realize that this sounds elitist but the fact remains that the Buddha makes a clear-cut distinction, in the Mahacattarisaka Sutta (M. iii. 72–79), between The Noble Eightfold Path and the mundane path, the latter being one for gaining merit which unlike The Noble Eightfold Path is neither free from defilements nor supermundane.

 

A few words need to be said about the drive to level the Buddha’s teachings so as to make them appear mundane and secular.  First of all, this is not unique to Buddhism.  Almost all religions do it more or less.  There is a strong tendency in every human to reduce the profound to the simplistic; the noble to the ignoble; the spiritual content, to materialism.  It is just an evil drive in human nature to do such.  More than that, it is human nature to prefer ignorance to wisdom—and the Buddha knew this.  This is why he resisted teaching his profound Dharma to the world and then only taught it to those who had little dust in their eyes; not the mundane person blinded by the dust of the material world.

 

 

Tiger is not out of the woods

 Shamelessly, I am trying to get my hits up by doing this blog about Tiger Woods’ grave sin—yes, the sin of seeking, as a married man and a father, unlimited sexual access to other desirable females besides his wife.  

Perhaps not the gravest of sins such as starting a war or two or being a psychopath whose main goal in life is to enjoy the suffering of others, Tiger's sin was to violate the holy contract of marriage, or the same, being an idiot when it comes to knowing how to be discreet with his sexual trysts.  Most men with Tiger's wealth and power know how to be discreet being able to hide a lot of things such as sex with young girls and boys, alcoholism, drug abuse, violence, etc.

Surely, as a Buddhist, Tiger should have exercised more control over the raging Mara-devil of the Five Aggregates who, from what I've read in the tabloids at the grocery store, was always aroused by female anatomy.  

Didn't Tiger read any of the Five Precepts (well, actually ten) in the Khuddaka-patha?  One precept is about refraining from abrahmacariya which translates into English as non-religious study, although it is often translated as sexual misconduct.  I hasten to add that the word, bramacariya, only referred to the first stage in the religious life of a Brahmin.

I guess, evidently, Tiger didn’t read or understand the precept about abrahmacariya! But who does except maybe a Brahmin?

Okay, maybe that precept doesn’t explicitly say, in black and white terms, a guy like Tiger should not be chasing other women.  But reviewing some of the other precepts, besides the first five, Tiger seems to have clearly violated all of them such as overeating, dancing and singing, using perfumes, sitting on high couches, and accepting lots of dough.  Of course, we can forgive him for these.  After all, these sins all of us commit on a daily basis.  

But this sex thing—I mean Tiger's appetite for sex with women other than his wife—what was the Buddha thinking when he put those precepts together which fail to mention a single thing about adultery? Didn't the Buddha read the Ten Commandments, the one about not committing adultery which includes unchastity of thought?  I guess not.  Oops!  Now that I think about it, the Buddha taught in India—not the Middle-East or somewhere around there.

As somewhat of a forgiving, compassionate Buddhist, I absolve Tiger from all of his sexual sins.  But now I urge Tiger to study with a good teacher.  He should also study the Pali canon and the Mahayana canon—actually to learn about Buddhism and not just follow the superficial side of Buddhism which has about as much depth as a mud puddle.  In fact, there are more important things to worry about than sex.  We need to keep in mind that Buddhism has as its main objective liberation from transmigratory existence, i.e., samsara.  How this is achieved is what the Buddha teaches.  If Tiger is not interested in this study and practice, I say he is not out of the woods yet.  He has a long, long way to go as do most of us.

Compassion ain't what ya think it is

Acceding to the god Brahma Sahampati’s request, the Buddha exercised compassion (karuna) by deciding to teach his recondite Dharma.  This act of his finds its way into the life of the Bodhisattva.  Emulating the Buddha who elects to teach beings out of compassion, the Bodhisattva likewise vows to liberate beings out of compassion, although the Bodhisattva’s compassion is not as complete and developed as the Buddha's compassion.  On the same thread, both the Buddha and the Bodhisattva fundamentally realize that teaching Dharma, which logically follows from compassion, entails both skillful means (upaya) and correct discernment (prajñâ) knowing precisely what is true Dharma and what is not.

However, modern interpretations of the Buddha’s compassion, including that of the Bodhisattva, I would argue, appear to slide more towards the direction of fellow-feeling or sympathy, hence, away from compassion as regards the effort to teach, skillfully, the Dharma (i.e., access to ultimate reality).  Modern Buddhism may, in fact, suffer from an inability to distinguish between fellow-feeling and proper compassion.  A good example of fellow-feeling, and the problem being addressed, is to be found in Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, Peace Is Every Step.  He writes:

“The essence of love and compassion is understanding, the ability to recognize the physical, material, and psychological suffering of others, to put ourselves ‘inside the skin’ of the other” (p. 81).

It may sound strange to our modern ears to say this, but as Thich Nhat Hanh defines these terms, we need not act in the way the Buddha acted whose compassion was not so much fellow-feeling but, instead, benevolence.  As evidence, we can love someone so as to put ourselves inside the skin of the other without exercising Buddhist compassion in the way of benevolence.  In love, we feel no compulsion to benefit the other by turning their attention towards the Buddha’s Dharma, in other words.  In addition, we can love music or art, or even wisdom in the form of philosophy.  And yes, we can love God.  But in loving music, art or God, for example, one seldom feels compelled to be compassionate or benevolent towards music, art or God!  On this same score, I can love humanity.  But does such love require of me to be benevolent (karuna)?

I think it is more accurate to think of Buddhist compassion or karuna as being closer to the idea of benevolence in which there is a voluntary activity, in the example of the Buddha with Brahma Sahampati, to promote the good of beings by teaching Dharma.  We can even imagine the Buddha and the Bodhisattva as being benevolists—but not lovers!  Overall, the newly awakened Buddha’s response to Brahma Sahampati was strictly one of profound benevolence in deciding to teach Dharma.  From that moment on, the Buddha spent the rest of his life teaching Dharma.  We have the canon as proof.

Thoughts on Bodhicitta

The subject of Bodhicitta (more technically, bodhicittotpada) is hardly discussed in modern circles of Zen, if at all.  Certainly Buddhist scholars have studied Bodhicitta.  And we are in their debt for that reason.  Bodhicitta, however, is widely discussed in Tibetan Buddhism, each school or tradition having their own particular spin.  At this point, I cannot stress enough how thoroughly Bodhicitta is taken up in Vajrayana (i.e., Tibetan Buddhism).  

Bodhicitta, I need to mention, before I forget, is a Mahayana term.  To my knowledge it isn’t found in the Pali Nikayas.  I would guess that it is more or less fungible with 'luminous Mind' or in Pali, pabhassara-citta as found in the Nikayas.

"Oh! monks. The mind (citta) is luminous (pabhassara)!  It is defiled by the adventitious defilement.  Oh! monks.  The mind is luminous! it obtains release (vippamutta) from the adventitious defilement" (A. i. 10).

If we consider that the uncovering of mind’s luminosity is an awakening to Mind’s absolute nature, which is different from the former mind-of-samsara, then the luminous Mind is the same as Bodhicitta.

One of the difficulties with translating Bodhicitta is that it appears to entail an esoteric experience which is a manifestation of the Dharma-kaya (Dharma body) or Bhuta-tathata (reality of thatness).  In some respects, it is like translating the word ‘dharma’ or ‘nirvana’.  To be sure, Bodhicitta is nothing that the intellect can observe or lay its hands on except externally and through the literature.  

Of the Bodhisattva’s path, it commences with bodhicittotpada, that is, the arising (utpada) of the Bodhi Mind or the same, Bodhicitta.  The experience is so illuminating, in fact, that one is no longer regarded as a prithagjana, that is, a worldly person who is attached to the three fetters (samyojana), namely, the view of the body as the self, skepticism, and attachment to rules and rituals.  Bodhicitta is truly transcendent, in other words.  It is said that “one may count the stars of the sky, but it is impossible to estimate the virtues and merits that are associated with bodhi-citta” (Dayal, The Bodhisattva Doctrine, p. 61).  

According to the Avatamsaka Sutra when one arouses Bodhicitta, one already obtains complete and utter enlightenment!  Such a person is said to abide where the Buddhas abide which means they are Buddhas in essence.  What they lack is the maturity of a Buddha.  We can draw from this that Bodhicitta constitutes the immediacy of Buddhahood rather than its full and complete unfolding and development with anuttara-samyak-sambodhi.  As such, the Bodhisattva, in order to become a Buddha, still has to go through a long maturation process consisting of Bhumis or stages of spiritual development sometimes consisting of ten stages.    

Also noteworthy, we find Bodhicitta mentioned in the early phases of Zen Buddhism (presently, it is hardly mentioned in Zen centers at all).  The following material is taken from Peter N. Gregory's book, Sudden and Gradual: Approaches to Enlightenment in Chinese Thought, which is about Ho-tse Shen-hui (670–762 CE) who studied under the Sixth Patriarch, Hui-neng.

"The major impression one gets from reading Shen-hui's works, of course, is the very concrete sense of his doctrine of sudden enlightenment. This impression holds even in the case of the Platform Sermon, in which he hardly uses the term “sudden” (tun) at all. It is abundantly clear in this text that Shen-hui’s intent was that those listening to him should generate bodhicitta, the aspiration to achieve enlightenment, even as they listened to his sermon. He appears to have been a consummate evangelist: although the ethical vows found at the beginning of the text were no doubt part of the conventional liturgical repertoire, Shen-hui must have used them in order to lead his congregation to a more exalted frame of mind in which they would be more open to moments of inspiration. There is not however any real consideration of the practice of meditation after that first generation of bodhicitta, a term which he uses in a manner that is virtually tantamount to the final achievement of enlightenment. For example, Shen-hui’s Platform Sermon contains the following verse in adulation of bodhicitta:

Although bodhicitta and the ultimate [realization] are no different. Of these two [states of] mind, it is difficult to say which is more important With oneself still unsaved, to first save others—thus do we reverence the initial [achievement of] bodhicitta.

By this initial bodhicitta one becomes a teacher of men and gods, superior to the auditors and solitary Buddhas.

With such a bodhicitta, one transcends the triple realm, hence this is called the most insurpassable” (pp. 250–251).

The notion and history of Bodhicitta in early Zen is certainly intriguing.  But it needs to be taken up in modern Zen circles in a serious way; not just laid to the side or inadequately defined as: “The altruistic mind which is focused on attaining full Enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings.”   

If I have not said this before, I will say it again, without directly apperceiving the luminous Mind or the same, manifesting Bodhicitta (bodhicittotpada), there can be no nirvana in the highest sense.  One can even sit on their zafu until their butt turns blue, but sitting is not enough.   

The absolute medium is the message

For a number of years I have been intrigued by the thought that with an absolute identity such as A = A, without contrast or antithesis, A = A might as well appear to be nothing.  I have brought this idea to Buddhism and specifically the Lankavatara Sutra under the idea of an absolute, self-identical medium.  It turns out that there is a gnosis in which Mind recognizes itself in which, paradoxically, it beholds an utterly empty, space-like field which, nevertheless, is real and dynamic in every way.  I am confident to say that the Buddha was aware of this paradoxical problem—but also of the solution which may explain why he was so hesitant to teach his Dharma.

When we agitate a medium such as a body of water, ripples or waves appear.  With the cessation of agitation the waves cease but not the water.  There is now water-only, or the same, medium-only.  Waves, we can say, are attributes of water.  They appear whenever water is disturbed.  In addition, waves have no existence apart from water.  In this respect, they don't actually existent independently.  

So far, all this sounds quite simple.  This analogy fits well with Mind which is used in the Lankavatara Sutra.  

Mind is a universal medium.  It is like a great ocean in the sense of being like water, i.e., HOH, to use its chemical name.  According to the Lankavatara Sutra when, 

“the waves of consciousness [vijñâna] are no more stirred in the Mind-ocean [cittodadhi] and the Vijñâna functions are quieted, the bliss of which is enjoyed by him; and when he thus recognised the non-existence of the external world, which is not more than his own mind, he is said to have the will-body [manomaya-kaya]” (trans. Suzuki).

In the above example, Mind or citta is the absolute substance and medium which is utterly ubiquitous and self-identical.  It is also the absolute criterion—nothing else can be the measure without running headlong into the problem of relativism which tends to be the worldly way of thinking.  The Lankavatara says:

“[Mind] is the measure [of all things], it is the abode of their self-nature, and has nothing to do with causation and the world; it is perfect in its nature, absolutely pure” (trans. Suzuki).

Now, in order to begin to see this oceanic Mind we first have to consider that we are already Mind.  In a word, it doesn’t have to be established.  It is here—it has never not been here.  Yet, while this sounds nice, we are completely unable to detect and apprehend it notwithstanding that we are Mind!  

Next, we have more to consider that with such a primordial substance as Mind, there are no marks by which it can see  itself.  With such a perfect identity as:  M (mind) = M, it is important to realize that Mind will always be perfectly and totally empty—yet, dynamic and real.  Only when Mind (which is dynamic) agitates itself does something appear out of it which then is mind-made.  And only when Mind penetrates through its own mind-begotten phenomena, in deep meditation, does Mind contact the true nature of itself which renders its phenomena illusory.

Of the actual engagement with Mind such as with Bodhicitta which, incidentally, is an earthshaking, dynamic experience, it amounts to a conversion or rather, a radical reorientation.  Phenomena are no longer the measure—including even my carnal body (svakaya).  All former criteria have been rendered illusory, or the same, relative.  

Going back to the water analogy, by engaging with Mind we have suddenly become the water, moreover, we can now distinguish (prajñâ) water from wave or the same, the absolute, substantive medium from its wave-like phenomena.  This leads me to mention that the importance of Prajnaparamita literature is for making the Mind, after Bodhicitta, more outstanding and dominating over the illusory.  The matter is like a large box with particles of gold and brass mixed together.  The Prajnaparamita process then becomes one of distinguishing the gold from the brass such that we eventually have one pile of pure gold and the other of brass.  The implications of this process are profound since the more we are Mind as accomplished, the more we can save sentient beings, even initiating them into a partial gnosis of Mind.

Knowing diddly-squat about Mind

In John Blofeld’s translation of Zen master Huang-po’s sermons (The Zen Teaching of Huang Po) the term “Mind”, in the absolute sense, is used several hundred times.  Other books like Red Pine’s The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma are not without numerous references to Mind in the absolute sense.  Here is just one example of how Mind is treated in Red Pine’s translation.

“Buddhas of the past and future only talk about this mind.  The mind is the buddha, and the buddha is the mind.  Beyond the mind there’s no buddha, and beyond the buddha there's no mind.  If you think there's a buddha beyond the mind, where is he?  There’s no buddha beyond the mind, so why envision one?  You can't know your real mind as long as you deceive yourself. As long as you're enthralled by a lifeless form, you are not free.  If you don’t believe me, deceiving yourself won’t help.  It’s not the buddha’s fault.  People, though, are deluded” (p. 11).

It is only when we get to modern Zen that teachers stop talking about Mind in the absolute sense.  What we begin to hear, instead, is the word “awareness” or “mindfulness” being used as if to suggest that awareness is some kind of profound state—and none of us are aware of awareness until we set foot into a Zen center to do some zazen!

But awareness should not be played up this way—not when Mind is more important.  To set the record straight, awareness, including mindfulness, is not unique to Zen or for that matter, Buddhism writ large.  Anyone who has been through boot camp knows all too well that awareness is key if you don’t want some Marine Corps DI or Navy Chief yelling at you.  Especially in the military, including the police forces, being mindful is how you survive.  Lose it—and you lose.

Personally, I have nothing against practicing awareness or mindfulness.  I do it all the time from being aware of opening a door to being aware of my thoughts.  But there is much more to Buddhism and Zen than just being aware.  One must have a direct insight into Mind, otherwise you ain’t doing serious Buddhism.

Of course, anyone can disagree with my previous comments about Mind and awareness which usually means the person knows diddly-squat about Zen or Buddhism.  Rather than continue, maybe they need to read this.  It is from the Sayings of Chung Feng (Chung Feng Kuang Lu).

“What is Ch’an [Zen]? Ch’an is the name of mind.  What is mind? Mind is the substance of Ch’an.  Bodhidharma came from the West and expounded only the direct pointing at man’s mind.  At first, the term Ch’an was not used, but the outcome of this direct pointing was the subsequent awakening (of followers of the sect).  In their questions and answers, that (which had no name) was referred to as Ch’an (for convenience’s sake).  However, Ch’an cannot be understood by learning or by a lucky chance.  When the self-mind (svacitta) is realized, either speech or silence, and motions or stillness, is unexpectedly Ch’an.  At the moment of this unexpected Ch’an, automatically the mind manifests itself.  Thus we know that Ch’an does not stray from mind and that mind does not stray from Ch’an.  Ch’an and mind are, therefore, two names of the same substance.” 

One fundamental power

In 1850, the English chemist and physicist Michael Faraday performed experiments trying to link gravity with electromagnetism which didn’t pan out.  Despite this setback, his strong conviction remained that, 

“The long and constant persuasion that all the forces of nature are mutually dependent, having one common origin, or rather being different manifestations of one fundamental power, has often made me think on the possibility of establishing, by experiment, a connection between gravity and electricity...no terms could exaggerate the value of the relation they would establish” (M. Faraday, Experimental Researches in Electricity, Vol. 3, pp. 161–168).

After reading this, as a Buddhist I have to say Faraday’s words ring of Buddhism insofar as our phenomenal world, according to the Lanakvatara Sutra, is Mind-only (cittamatra) in which this Mind it could be said is “one fundamental power”, to use Faraday’s words.  In addition, it follows from this that all things or manifestations are dependent on Mind, including even our thoughts, which are compositions of it.  

If I had to make any change in Faraday’s words it would be that the one common origin which is one fundamental power is an intelligible, originative substance or medium.  This is the best way to think of Mind in Buddhism.

On a slightly different note, all phenomena—including we mortals—arise from this originative substance (i.e., Mind) only to return to it like ocean waves sinking back into waveless water without knowing what water really is.  This condition is certainly samsara which encompasses birth, death and a never ending return to birth and death.  

Despite this rather pessimistic outlook, there is a loophole.  When we have perfectly connected with the substance of Mind, itself, in deep meditation, thus radically changing our former orientation, in the example of a Bodhisattva or Buddha, we come to see that all the forces of nature actually depend on us even our ordinary thoughts.  Being now Mind or the originary medium of all, we do not arise or sink.  We are free from samsara.

When I think more about what Faraday said, interdependence between things and even our thoughts can only exist by virtue of there being one originary medium.  This also means that this medium is the most primordial part of us—our true nature.  It alone is our refuge if we choose to dig deep enough, that is, to look within.