When This Is, That Is » Change

Discernment along the Middle Way

Paul — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 17:38:53 +0000

My last post asking “What is Enlightenment?” drew some good comments and questions, and I respond to them here, in a rambling sort of way, beginning with a story about soap. Many years ago Robin worked for Colgate-Palmolive. She worked in the quality-control department at a plant where they made, among other things, Fresh Start laundry detergent. She tells me that, when introduced, Fresh Start was made from premium ingredients that did a remarkable job at cleaning laundry. But the powerful enzymes were harsh on the machinery, which caused greater than usual maintenance problems. Slowly C-P backed off the enzymes and replaced other ingredients with those of lesser quality and expense.

This is standard practice, I’m told. First establish brand loyalty through the use of expensive, high-quality ingredients, then gradually pull back on the quality to reduce costs. Most users won’t notice. Some users may discern a difference and try something else, but to those loyal to the brand it’s still the same great product they’ve always used. Quite likely their children will use it too.

I’m not concerned here about deception in the soap-making business or brand loyalty, but about change, truth, and discernment. Discernment – also knows as wisdom – is one of the ten perfections.

If my recent post came across as parochial, it wasn’t my intention. Although I do have my preferences, I have no interest in promoting one form of Buddhism over another. There are many schools and sects and points of view of how the Buddha’s teachings should be interpreted and how Buddhism should be practiced. How else could it be? Buddhism spread slowly through many disparate lands and cultures. Commentaries and other new texts were composed, rulers made edicts, and cultural influences and traditions pushed here and pulled there. Throughout the Northern and Southern Transmissions, Buddhism evolved here independently of how it evolved there. And Buddhism continues to be the object of pressures from without (e.g, China’s affect on Tibetan Buddhism) and within (e.g., the recent bhikkhuni ordination in Perth and the Thai Sangha’s reaction to it).

In the beginning, though, there was the Buddha. He taught one thing: suffering and the end of suffering. He discovered the four noble truths and laid out the eightfold path, which he declared to be the Middle Way to the end of suffering. The eightfold path begins with right view. There is a way to see and understand the world. If there is one right view that is a factor of the path, there must also be wrong views that are not. And the Buddha doesn’t hold back on what those are. If a person doesn’t accept right view, then the rest of the eightfold path has no meaning. If a person does not accept the four noble truths, then why bother with Buddhism at all?

I came to Buddhism because I had lost faith the religion I grew up with. I was spiritually bereft, but I didn’t seek out Buddhism. I wasn’t seeking enlightenment or any secret teachings of the mysterious Orient. Rather, I stumbled onto it. I tried meditation with the hope that it could help me get control over depression. Ignorantly, I didn’t see back then the significant link between meditation and Buddhism. It was only later that I discovered, first, how Buddhist philosophy would affect my thinking and, second, how Buddhist practice would affect my life.

What’s important – to me anyway – is the essence of the Buddha’s teaching about suffering and the end of suffering. My goal is not to have some mystical experience, but to experience the end of suffering.

With Buddhism there is no judge to determine whether people have been good or bad during their lives, no benefactor to grant rewards, no warden to mete out punishment. Rather, the results of one’s actions simply follow along. Good actions bring good results. Bad actions bring bad results. It’s the law of cause and effect. This is true for anyone, Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, whatever. Being a Buddhist and being a good person are not mutually exclusive. Anyone will reap the benefits of acting in accord with what is right and true. So it doesn’t matter what Buddhist school or sect one follows. It’s a personal choice and, fortunately, one that no being, supreme or otherwise, will judge as right or wrong. Whatever the school, the Dharma is common to each of them, and the law of cause and effect works as efficiently as the law of gravity.

Discerning what is right and true, now that’s a challenge. Every religion stakes its claim on truth. Yet not everyone can be right. What’s necessary, for me anyway, is to take a look at not only what I believe but how I have come to believe it. There are five ways in which people come to believe the things they do and take them for truth. I may believe something is true because I have faith that it is, because it’s agreeable to me, because of tradition (brand loyalty?), because reason and logic tell me it’s true, and by accepting something as true after reflecting on it. In each case, there are only two possibilities about my beliefs: I am right or I am wrong, because none of these five ways leading to belief is a guaranty of truth. (Majjhima Nikaya #95, the Canki Sutta. Read my comments on this sutta and how truth can be discerned here.)

I adopted Buddhism for all but one of these reasons. Not having grown up in a Buddhist culture, I was no more influenced by Buddhist traditions than than I was by Maori or Eskimo traditions. But I have come to accept certain things as true. I could be wrong about all of it. Yet I have faith I’m not wrong. It’s faith that the Buddha knew what he was talking about, faith in the practice, and the example of others who share that faith that keeps me striving on.

I need something to believe in. Don’t we all? But this practice I’ve adopted is not just some other means to fill the time, some other way to keep me engaged with others, some other trendy “path” that leads to the same mysterious yet desirable destination called enlightenment or salvation or whatever. In the course of it all I have to determine for myself what I believe and why. And along the way I must strive to discern what is in accord with the teachings and what is not. The law of cause and effect is the only determining factor.

I think, therefore I doubt – sometimes

Paul — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 18:57:36 +0000

In my previous post I talked about the bit of insight I had into anatta, no-self. Two questions arose. What does it mean? which I have addressed, and how has it changed things?

The answer to the second question is, I don’t know. Maybe it hasn’t or won’t change anything. Already the memory of the experience has faded, and the importance of the moment has diminished. It’s no more prominent in my mind than my experience so long ago of my first visit to Disneyland, one of the many other neighborhoods of make-believe where people love to play. I remember, vaguely, being there, but I can’t remember how it felt to be there.

I still must do the same things today to survive in the world as I did yesterday and the day before. And I will tomorrow, too. But the event did happen. It opened a new window into the way things are. How it changes things will depend on how long I gaze through the window.

A day after my mental experience, the view from window fogged over, and I experienced a few days of doubt. Doubt is the fifth of the five hindrances to mediation in particular and spiritual development in general. Doubt can lead to despair, which can easily lead into what John Bunyon described in The Pilgrim’s Progress as “the slough of despond.”

But even doubt is just another conditioned experience, a thing that arises and passes away. The clouds of doubt have been swept away by the pure breeze of some of the easiest and most focused meditation I’ve had in years.

I guess that’s a change to consider.

Restlessness and remorse and the karma of lives past and present

Paul — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 16:46:49 +0000

Together, restlessness and remorse are the fourth of the five hindrances to meditation as well as to leading a happy life. Restlessness is a general sense of dissatisfaction with how things are. Feelings of restlessness can be very subtle or very intense. The result is a need to move, to do something. Remorse is a regret for one’s actions, moral transgressions for example. Remorse often leads restlessness. With the body agitated by restlessness and the mind agitated by remorse, it’s difficult to maintain concentration during meditation. And, outside of meditation, this dual hindrance will have an impact on one’s behavior.

At my son’s wedding last week, which I wrote about in my previous post, I experienced a degree of restlessness and remorse. Patrick’s mother was there along with her parents and husband. Also there was my second wife, Patrick’s first step-mother.

Maybe you don’t believe in rebirth, but I am in my fourth lifetime – all within the same span of my 58 years. My first life included my childhood and everything through the end of my 21st year. Marriage propelled me into second lifetime. I expected it to last forever. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right? Through good times and bad, sickness and health, richer or poorer (emphasis on poorer). Well, among other things, I suffered the disillusionment of happily-ever-after. That marriage’s ending was like a long, slow terminal illness with lots of pain and suffering for everyone involved – including our four boys.

Soon, I was reborn into another realm and another marriage. Through the lens of the Buddha’s teachings I can reflect on the origins of suffering and how the three fires of greed, hatred, and delusion slowly burn in the background of what appears on the surface to be a “good thing.” Once again a good thing ended very badly. The end of this life was different from that of the previous one, though. When the time came, I was prepared and eager to depart that world. I leaped into my fourth lifetime – which now begins its seventh year.

Although the details of my past lives have gone without description, I will say that the results of my bad karma are inescapable. It’s difficult to be in the same room with people I’ve caused so much harm to. At the wedding I was in my own territory, so to speak, but just the same there were moments of restlessness (get me outa here!) and subtle but genuine feelings of remorse for my actions.

The actions of my past are mine to keep – they are the only things I really own. The results are mine to bear as well. My intention in this lifetime – with full awareness of its impermanence – is to make good use of what I’ve learned and develop the skills to extinguish the three fires. I am certain my future rests in my actions now. I have a fairly good idea of what to do. And what not to do.

Economic Crisis 1

Paul — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 20:07:10 +0000

Each of my parents was born in 1928, my mother in a small coal town in western Pennsylvania, my father on a farm in Kansas. In October of the following year, the New York Stock Exchange crashed. This was the beginning of the Great Depression. My parents were born into, and grew up within, an economic crisis that lasted many years. Girls my mother knew would dip their feet and ankles in whitewash so as to appear to be wearing socks. Boys would rub their ankles with coal dust for the same reason. My father’s family lost their farm when their entire harvest of potatoes rotted on a railway siding. Even in a starving nation, potatoes had no value.

The NYSE didn’t return to pre-1929 value until 1954, when I was three years old. I can relate to the Great Depression only through family stories and American literature. I don’t have first-hand experience of growing up under such conditions. But I do remember how frugal my parents were. I remember the daily budget they kept in the kitchen drawer, with expenditures written down to the penny. The only lights on in the house were those necessary for the moment. It was wasteful not to turn off a light when leaving a room. Bent nails were straightened and saved in tin cans. Recycle, reduce, reuse was more than a catchy slogan to help “save the planet.” It was how people survived. And there were the envelopes my mother kept, one for each of her children. Inside was money – cash – she would set aside for clothing. No cash, no new shoes. I did not know about this system until I left home and my mother handed me my envelope with a little more than $100 in it.

What got the country out of the Great Depression was war. We were united in purpose and driven to be the best and most productive country in the world. At war’s end we used our technological and manufacturing prowess to build and create and thrive. Along with war’s end came that huge population known as the Baby Boom. Children of my generation – and their parents who grew up in an age of deprivation – were exploited by those who would sell us everything from Jell-O gelatin to General Electric washers. Eventually, the marketing effort breached our borders and engulfed the world. Not only were we selling hamburgers abroad by the billions, but weapons of war by the ship load. We have created a need for war – or the constant readiness for it – as a means to sell products and make a profit. War may be harmful to children and other living things, but it’s great for business.

Growing prosperity, however, driven by relentless marketing and easy credit, has had an effect on the way average Americans live and think. Overall, the last 50 years or so have been spent largely on maintaining the illusion of prosperity called the American Dream. We’ve been taught by the marketeers and politicians that we deserve prosperity and abundance as a birthright.

But something happened, something serious. It wasn’t immediate like a surprise attack, but the gradual outcome or our collective actions that began many years ago. It’s as though someone has slowly been adding sugar to the fuel that runs the money machine. The machine coughs and sputters along, getting worse by the day.

The politicians are busy with a so-called stimulus plan. The idea is to get the money machine humming smoothly again. The nation is hopeful that any day now we’ll awaken from a disturbing dream so we can get back to the business of pursuing the American Dream. It may not work. But the law of cause and effect insidiously rolls along, and we can’t fully comprehend the dangers of the inevitable.

Buddhism on Decline in Japan?

Paul — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 17:57:19 +0000

My friend Joy sent me a link to this New York Times article discussing the apparent decline of Buddhism in Japan and the reasons for it. Buddhism has been a part of Japanese culture since around the 6th century. That’s a long time. Then, the ideas of Buddhism, already a thousand years old, began mixing with Shinto, Japan’s native spirituality (called Shinto only when it became necessary to differentiate it from Buddhism).

As a religion, with rites and rituals and the other trappings that go with them, Buddhism is not unlike any other religion. It evolves over time and changes along with the culture to which it belongs. The practice of Buddhism in Japan is different from the practice in Sri Lanka or Tibet or the United States, countries with their own cultural histories that began prior to the introduction of Buddhism. I’ve heard it said that Buddhism changes every culture it touches, and Buddhism is changed by every culture that touches it. The same can be said for Christianity.

What doesn’t change is Dhamma – the way things are. Everything that comes into existence goes out of existence. That’s Dhamma. The purpose of Buddhist practice is to grok this concept.

In Buddhism there is a list known as the Ten Fetters. A fetter – picture handcuffs or leg irons – is something that holds a person back from realizing full awakening. One of those ten fetters is the belief that rites and rituals – or in precepts and practices – in and of themselves is a means to spiritual attainment.

What’s apparent in the NYT article, in Japan – over many centuries – rites and rituals have become an important part of Japanese Buddhism, especially when it comes to dying and the afterlife. It seems Japanese Buddhists – as a group – don’t have much use for these rites and rituals or the priests who perform them. Hence, the decline.

Oil Quake

Paul — Sun, 25 May 2008 19:40:13 +0000

Disasters, such as those that happened recently in China and Myanmar, cause an immediate change in how those affected live their lives. In these two cases, the effects were far-ranging and directly touched millions. Some disasters – and there are millions of them a day, I suppose – are on a much smaller scale. A traffic accident that kills a family member or house fire that claims an entire family’s possessions are examples.

Above all else, disasters place their survivors in a state of absolute uncertainty, stripping away any illusions we may have of stability and permanence.

A profound disaster occurred in the US on September 11, 2001. The primary effect of that disaster was great human and material loss and destruction that directly touched many people. Tremendous as that was, though, the secondary damage done to our national psyche was much greater in it’s own way. It was as an attack from outside for which we were ill prepared. We were shocked, stunned, and angry for a long time. We were faced with the fact that we are exposed and vulnerable. But there was – and continues to be – a tertiary effect of 9/11. It began when unscrupulous politicians exploited the event, playing on the fears and insecurity of the nation to further an agenda that had been in the making for years. Out of a need for certainty and security, we allowed these people to wreak havoc around the world and within the homeland.

The primary damage of September 11 was immediate. We knew exactly what hit us and when, just as they knew in China and Myanmar. The tertiary damage, however, is slow and inexorable, and it’s source and design is not so clear as unstable weather or shifting tectonic plates. Most of us have no real idea of the inner workings of world politics and economics. Yet what is happening politically and economically around the world – especially when it comes to crude oil these days – has the potential for disaster.

I don’t know if it’s possible for those smarter and more informed than I to draw a direct line from our collective reaction to an event that happened nearly seven years ago and to the price I pay for a gallon of gas today. And it really doesn’t matter.

But it does seem to me that the price of fuel will sooner than later begin to have an effect on how I and most of the rest of us live our lives. I am considering giving up one of my several jobs – teaching a class, specifically – because of the distance I must drive to get there. It simply is not cost effective. That is just one small thing, an example of making necessary adjustments in my life and lifestyle to accommodate significant changes in the way things are.

I can’t help but wonder how long before gasoline is $5, $8, $10 per gallon. What will we do? What will I do? What changes will I and my family have to make? What will happen when the average citizen cannot afford to go to work? I haven’t noticed that wages are rising along with the price of gas. I have noticed that profits for Chevron and Exxon/Mobile continue to rise along with the price of crude oil.

Much of the blame for the high price of fuel is being placed on demand from India and China. I wonder how much of that is true. People the world over have always been lied to and mislead by their governments (or whoever holds real power). We hapless citizens of the USA are no exception. Remember how Enron manipulated the price and flow of electricity – and destroyed many lives in the process? Once again, the why of it doesn’t matter. There is no real stability to anything, no matter how much we want to believe it.

What matters is something is happening. Something big and life-changing. The question on my mind is how I will respond to it.

The Nature of Suffering, Part 2

Paul — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 23:47:56 +0000

In Part 1 of this series I introduced the idea that suffering – dukkha in the Pali language – is a part of life. Every aspect of life, from birth to death, is dukkha. But, with the exception of the obvious forms of suffering, we don’t recognize the true nature of our experiences. How can something usually viewed as bringing joy – birth, for example – be considered suffering? It just doesn’t make sense.

The very simple explanation is that birth sets the conditions for old age, sickness and death. Without birth, there would be no death. And no suffering between, either. Every experience sets the conditions for suffering.

Suffering is divided into three categories:

Ordinary suffering
Suffering of change
Suffering of conditioned existence

Ordinary suffering is the everyday-kind of suffering of pain, sorrow, sickness, old age and death. It also includes not having what we want and having what we don’t want.

Everything changes. Kids grow up, the reliable new car gets old and unreliable, sunny days become rainy, governments are formed and unformed, what is comfortable today is unpleasant tomorrow. What satisfies becomes unsatisfactory. We adapt and make adjustments, shrug it off and cope. In the midst of it all is suffering.

All things come into existence through a series of causes and conditions. Without causes and conditions there would be nothing. All beings rely on causes and conditions “to be.” These causes and conditions are not static. Rather, they are ongoing and ever-changing. What we think of as our “self” is the result of an ever changing stream of causes and conditions. The self – which is composed of body and mind – also changes moment to moment. Suffering of conditioned existence arises when we attempt to cling to and identify with this “self” as something stable, unchanging and eternal. We crave this existence, and such craving leads to more “coming to be” over and over through an infinite cycle called samsara.

To end the cycle of “coming-to-be” one must break the chain somewhere. The best link in the chain to break is craving. Wanting things to be different always leads to the next step of clinging. And suffering – in some form or another – is always not far behind clinging. Eventually everything is pulled from our grasp.

I admit this view is heretical in a culture driven by the pursuit of happiness and pleasure. Dissatisfaction is at the heart every ad campaign and political campaign too. It’s also in the heart of every spiritual seeker. And one who is skillful and ardent can learn to discern the difference between mundane happiness and spiritual happiness. Only when dukkha is fully understood can it be dealt with effectively.

Playing With Fire

Paul — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 21:27:02 +0000

From the responses my previous post has generated, it is apparent I’ve been inadequate in expressing my thoughts on this topic. The post was not about giving advice, nor was it about offering criticism, requested or otherwise.

The cause of suffering is craving and ignorance. If I can see how another’s craving and ignorance cause suffering for themselves and others, perhaps I can learn something from that.

I offer the following allegories.

? I am sitting with a friend in front of a campfire. I have never seen fire before and am ignorant of its effects. Its warmth is pleasurable, its light reassuring. The flames are enticing and desirable. I want to touch the fire, experience it. Just as I am about to reach out and grab the flames, my friend advises, “Don’t do it. You’ll burn yourself.” And I say, “Who asked you? Mind your own business.” I stick my hand into the fire and am burned. “Told you so!” my friend says. “You should have listened to me.”

Upon reflection, I realize that advice from others could be valuable to me and I shouldn’t be so quick to reject it. I also learn that others may reject advice from me, so I shouldn’t be so quick to give it. Additionally, I learn that criticism is a second injury, and I should be careful about how I respond to the mistakes of others. I also learn not to stick my hand into the fire ever again.

? My friend and I are sitting near a fire. I have heard of the effects of fire but have not experienced them directly. Again, the fire is enticing and desirable. I am about to stick my hand into the fire, but my friend does so first. He screams as he pulls his burned hand out

I do not need to reflect long on the effects of sticking my own hand into the fire.

? I am alone with the fire. I understand the effects fire has on a person, so I am careful. But now the attraction of the fire is too strong. I ignore the risk and the subtle warnings from within. I am burned.

Upon reflection I understand the powerful attraction of fire and that it is dangerous to allow the attraction to get strong. Perhaps it’s better, I think, not to get too close. I also think it’s important to trust my intuition.

? My friend has had lots of experience with fire. Not only has he been burned himself, but he has observed many others being burned and the effects it has had on them. Therefore, he has made it his mission to spread the word about the dangers of succumbing to the attraction of fire. That is why I am surprised one day to see him dancing around a raging fire. Sweat pours off him. His expression glows with bliss. I say, “What are you doing? Can’t you see the danger?” He replies, “You don’t understand. I know what I’m doing. Now go away. ” He dives into the flames. Instantly he is consumed.

Upon reflection, I see a spectacular example of how craving and delusion lead to suffering. I have learned something from that. Maybe. I also learn, maybe, that my own example to others may be of more value and have a greater impact than what I may say to them.

Already Broken

Paul — Sat, 29 Sep 2007 17:36:00 +0000

This cup
From which I sip
My tea I know
To be already
Broken.

As I bring it
To my lips, secure
In my fingertips, I
Cherish it all
The more, while
It remains whole
In my world.

Already broken,
Shards upon the floor,
By my own unskillful
Act, or another’s
Careless move.
Or just time.

Such is the way
Of all I love?
Never with me
Long enough,
Always changing
Breaking
Dying.

This is truth, high
And noble, a
Thing to sublimate
Sorrow to joy, if
I will accept it. Yet

Knowing there are
No more cups
In the cupboard
Crushes my heart.
When this my last
Cup breaks, I will have
No more tea.