But I’ve reconsidered that view after reading Ajahn Thanissaro’s The Truth of Rebirth: And Why It Matters for Buddhist Practice. Here are some of the points I came away with:

“What is reborn?” is an inappropriate question, to be put aside

It’s a logical question to a rational thinker. We learn, living under the influence of Judeo-Christian doctrine, after death the soul (a thing) goes to heaven or hell for eternity. So it follows that in Buddhism there must be some thing that goes to the next life. It can’t be the soul, because the doctrine of anata (not-self, sometimes translated as no-self or no-soul) says there isn’t such a thing. This doctrine, surely among the most confusing and misunderstood, is also among the most attractive for its mysteriousness. And if it can’t be the soul that goes to the next life, then what does? If that question is inappropriate, then what is the appropriate question?

What is rebirth?

Rebirth is a process. This catalyzed my new understanding. It encapsulated the many Dhamma talks I’d heard over the years where a teacher instructed: “The self is a process. The body is a collection of processes. The mind is a collection of processes.” To the eager novice, this is really profound stuff. Not to mention appealing in a what-is-the-sound-of-one-hand-clapping sort of way.

The self is a process within a larger process called samsara. The definition of samsara is “round of rebirth.” Samsara is depicted in the twelve links of dependent origination, shown in the outer ring of the picture above. (Click the image for a guided tour of the symbols. Opens in a new window.)

The importance of the teaching of rebirth

Karma is action with intention. It’s not just the big things, the obvious things a person decides to do. Deep in the mind, very subtle acts of intention arise. This is karma. About karma, the Buddha says good action brings good results, bad actions bring bad result. This is true not just some of the time; it’s true all of the time, with every act. On the surface, taking an ordinary life, this seems ridiculous. That’s whey we invented the phrase “I was only trying to help.” We all know how our acts of good intention sometimes go badly. However, if they are truly acts of good intention, they must bring good results, according to the law of karma. If not immediately, then sometime in the future. Maybe a long, long time in the future as the karma plays itself out. And bad actions will always bring bad results. Eventually. You can see the necessity of an ongoing process. Without it, the teaching of karma becomes irrelevant. If the teaching of karma is irrelevant, then all of the Buddha’s teachings are.

Rebirth as a strategy

If I understand Ajahn Thanissaro correctly, the Buddha also used karma and rebirth as a strategy to negotiate between two common views of the day: eternalism and nihilism. Eternalists believed in a life beyond death. Nihilists believed dead is dead. The Buddha refused to take a position one way or the other, except to say both are wrong view. Yet he urged people toward good actions, to make good karma, to avoid ending up in a bad destination.

Investigating right view

Right view—or right understanding—is the first factor of the eightfold path. I thought I had this one figured out. Now I’m not so sure. Karma and rebirth are integral to right view. Rejecting rebirth as an unnecessary artifact of an ancient time is a rejection of right view. Accepting rebirth does not mean blind adherence to some dogma that makes no sense. Rather, I think, it means having faith in the teachings while at the same time taking an investigative look not only at how things work deep in the mind, but how the entire process of life works. Investigation of the Dhamma is an act of intention that, presumably, will have a good outcome: Investigation of the Dhamma is one of the seven factors of awakening.

Meanwhile, please visit my main site here.

With Ruby and Greg at IMC

This past weekend I attended the third annual InterSangha Conference held at the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, California, as a representative of Portland Friends of the Dhamma. My traveling companions were Ruby Grad and Greg Satir. Ruby is the Friends of the Dhamma board president and Greg is secretary. I am vice-president. We joked that we almost had a quorum for a board meeting. We met at Ruby’s house at 4:30 Thursday morning and made it to Eugene before stopping for coffee on the 700-mile drive. I would have preferred coffee two hours earlier, but we found nothing open on our route out of town and onto the freeway.

Even after getting slowed down in traffic across the Bay Bridge and through San Francisco, we parked across the street from IMC precisely at 5:30. We were just in time to join the circle for the opening remarks given by Kim Allen, who headed the planning committee and ran the programs through the weekend. We met Jeff Kerr, from the Portland Insight Meditation Community, and who would be staying with us in our accommodations in San Francisco.

We then walked nine blocks to Stafford Park, where there awaited a huge pot-luck dinner provided by IMC members. We ate in the park because of the regularly scheduled meditation that would soon begin at the center. Once at the park Greg and I, who are highly skilled introverts, hung along the periphery of the gathering crowd as dinner preparations were completed. Soon much to our relief, the feeding line began to form. Piling food onto one’s plate is a fine activity for those of us who otherwise have trouble getting conversations started. Eventually, though, having found a table, we were immersed in conversation with Steve and Carolyn and Lori and Kathryn and a number of others.

Although it was sunny and mild when we arrived in Redwood City, by 7:30 or so it was getting uncomfortably chilly. I was glad I wore a jacket.

Dinner over, the four of us drove north back to San Francisco. After some misdirection we found Judy’s apartment (thanks to Google Maps and Jeff’s phone), where we would spend the next three nights. Judy, an IMC member but not part of the conference, was, ironically, house-sitting in Redwood City, so we had the place to ourselves. Judy’s ground-floor, row-house apartment was typical of the area near the UCSF Medical Center. It felt as though I were staying in a bit of history. Frank Norris’s McTeague, A Story of San Francisco, is among my favorite novels.

InterSangha’s purpose is to gather lay communities within the insight meditation movement for a weekend of inspiration and discussion of common concerns. There were about 60 attendees from communities as far away as Minnesota, Vermont, British Columbia, Quebec, and Mexico.

Because Portland Friends of the Dhamma has a tight focus on the lineage of Ajahn Chah and support of the monastics within that tradition, it does not fit the description of an insight meditation community. We do, however, share the common roots of Theravada Buddhism.

Program sessions ran all day Friday and Saturday. One of the more interesting panel discussions was “Dana, Financial Models, and Fundraising.” Greg was among the panelists. Dana is a Pali word that, strictly speaking, means almsgiving. According the the Buddhist Dictionary, dana “especially the offering of robes, food, etc., to the monks, is highly praised in all Buddhist countries of Southern Asia as a fundamental virtue and as a means to suppress man’s inborn greed and egoism.”

In contemporary western parlance, however, dana has come to mean a monetary donation to the community to keep the doors open and pay the teachers. Where this isn’t enough, most communities suggest donation amounts, charge fees, and take part in fundraising activities, sometimes not just to cover immediate needs, but to maintain contingency funds. Friends of the Dhamma does none of these, which differentiated Friends of the Dhamma from most, if not all, of the other groups represented.

During his presentation, Greg stressed that dana is a gift given without obligation and with no expectations. It ensures that everything that happens has support and that it’s ”being OK with something that ends. Dana keeps it closer to the idea that things can close if there is no support for it.” In other words, were people stop supporting Friends of the Dhamma, the doors would close, and that would be just fine.

Sunday morning offerings included the opportunity to sit with the IMC community or take a tour of a recently purchased former nursing home that is to become the Insight Retreat Center, about an hour’s drive from IMC. Our band of travelers took part in neither, choosing instead to take to the road early so as to arrive home Sunday evening, which we did safely.

A few days ago, in meditation, I had a clear understanding of another concept: noticing what isn’t there. It began with the pain growing in my left hip. I’ve focussed on various pains before, but that method usually seemed to intensify the pain rather than alleviate it.

This time I tried something else. I looked to where there wasn’t pain. My right hip felt very comfortable, so I focussed my attention there. After a few moments I noticed that the pain in the left side had diminished. But as I shifted my attention to the left side, the pain returned. So I wen’t back to the right. And once again, the pain on the left subsided.

It reminded me of a phenomenon I’d played with as a kid. One day I was lying in the grass, looking up at the blue sky. Overhead were a cluster of electric wires and such. I noticed as I looked past the wires to the sky beyond, the wires seemed to disappear. Then, when I looked at the wires, there they were. And I could make them disappear again at will. I was sure I’d developed some sort of super power, but I was disappointed when I could not perform this optical trick with anything else.

Back to meditation. Relocating my attention from a painful spot to a pain-free area had the effect of making the pain disappear. I knew it was still there, the pain. I just wasn’t perceiving it. Or was I just perceiving the sensations as something different? Either way, I was able to meditate comfortably and without the anxiety and fear that often accompanies pain.

That’s when I realized the importance of noticing what’s not present and it’s direct relationship to the five hindrances to productive meditation (or to any other practice). The five hindrances are:

• Sensual desire
• Ill will
• Restlessness & remorse (or worry)
• Sloth & torpor (reluctance to make effort & lethargy)
• Doubt (in the practice)

A definition of rapture is the absence of the five hindrances. Indeed, it’s necessary to overcome the hindrances entirely in order to attain full awakening. But how do you know when you’re in a state of rapture as opposed to a common, every-day state of happiness? It’s when you notice, upon careful examination, that the mind is free of the five hindrances. It’s noticing what’s not there.

Not only were Michael and I colleagues in the larger field of massage therapy, we both taught classes (I still do) at Oregon School of Massage. Some of the women involved in the investigation were former students of his. Students of mine, too, for that matter.

After his arrest, the rumor mill at the school was, I thought, especially quiet. Or perhaps I didn’t hear much because I wasn’t all that interested to actively seek out information. It’s a sensitive area, too, because as a legitimate profession massage therapy has always struggled to dissociate itself from its disreputable cousin, prostitution. As a truly reputable school, we didn’t need this.

I must confess, though, that when I read the story of Michael’s arrest—complete with mugshot—a small feeling of satisfaction arose. Several things he’d said at staff meetings didn’t sit well with me. One thing he’d said I took personally because, although it was a general criticism, it seemed directed straight my way. From then on, I’d seen him as an adversary. He wasn’t, of course, but that’s how I saw it.

Another colleague of mine, a former student who practices massage therapy as well as the middle way, expressed outrage that Michael got only 90 days of jail time. He also described how his anger made it difficult for him to do his daily metta practice. It was my friend’s comments on Facebook that inspired this post, leading me to wonder how the four noble truths figured into the difficulty one has with sending kindness to people one doesn’t like.

The first noble truth is the truth of suffering. Life is full of it. But the first noble truth is not a mere statement of fact, e.g., “there is suffering.” Rather it is an injunction to see suffering for what it is, to understand it thoroughly. It’s hard to wish kindness upon people we intensely dislike because it hurts. That’s my experience, anyway.

The cause of this pain, though, is not external. It has nothing to do with what crimes or grievances someone committed against me or others. The cause is my very firm grip on what I want or how I think things should be. This is the second noble truth, the truth of the cause of suffering. If the cause of suffering is clinging, then the solution is to let go the grip.

Relaxing the grip leads to the third noble truth, which states release from suffering is possible. This is the goal Buddhist practitioners strive for: release from suffering. The fourth truth is the means to accomplish the goal: the eightfold path.

The practice of metta is the act of wishing kindness toward others. But it’s more than that. It’s one of four ideal mind states conducive to cultivating the eightfold path. The other three are compassion, joy in the good fortune of others, and equanimity.

When I conjure up the image of Michael’s mugshot, I don’t see the boastful, overly self-assured man I once gave forced-friendly nods to in the hallway before classes. Nor do I see a sexual predator who must be locked up as a menace to society. Rather I see the face of a man destroyed—whether he knows it or not—by his own delusion.

I too have delusions, those self-imposed mental shackles I strive to wrest myself from. And I know, were I to be standing shackled before a judge, I would desperately want the compassion of others rather than their scorn. And I would want to be treated kindly, too.

And what of  his gullible followers, some of whom spent all their money or otherwise divested themselves of possessions deemed unnecessary after the rapture? In scanning for news stories of the anti-apocalyptic aftermath, “false prophet” is a phrase I’ve come across. If Camping is a false prophet today, he was just as much so on May 20, 2011 as he was in 1994. And yet there were enough believers in his delusion to offer him the millions and millions of dollars he spent on advertising what was to be a non-event on typical day in May.

Now the laughter has subsided and we can let May 22 roll into the 23rd and so on. Other news—serious as well as trivial—will captivate us, and Harold Camping will no longer be able to grab much attention no matter how much he spends.

Yet I can’t help feeling a certain sadness for Camping. He was defeated not only by his own miscalculations, but in his belief in them and the book they were based on. He  must have been crushed when his prediction didn’t come to pass. Although this story suggests he was merely “bewildered.”

It’s easy to say—after the fact—that Camping and his followers were deluded in their belief. But from the perspective of someone who strives to sort what’s true from what isn’t, I can see how holding on to such a belief can result in nothing but a bad end.

Consider how much strife there is in the world—today and historically—because of strongly held beliefs. Given that fact, I wonder why belief isn’t outlawed. I’m being facetious, but it’s true that so much destruction can be attributed to a belief in God, country, race, democracy, capitalism or anything else that makes “us” better and more deserving than “them.”

And yet we insist that what we believe in is always right and worthy and will always lead to good. No matter how much sad evidence there is to the contrary.

The people at merkaba.org (I’m not sure who they are, but there is mention of the “family’s ancient records”) claim to know the truth, as shown in the bilboard above. Judgment day is December 21, 2012. The 2012 date is based on the end of the Mayan Calendar, which supposedly is a better way of marking time, because it is “ancient wisdom.” (If you want to know whether you’re among the family of 144,000 who will be saved on 12/21/12 here is the test. All you have to do is listen.)

But this is direct conflict with Harold Camping of Family Radio Worldwide, who is certain Judgment Day is just two days from now! According to Mr. Camping, beginning Saturday God will start killing off the unraptured until October 21, 2011, on which day he will destroy the world. At least some of us will get to enjoy the summer — so long as we don’t dwell too much on the future.

I just don’t know what to believe. With so many conflicting truths going around it’s enough to make a person crazy. Of course, I can just pick one and wrap myself up in it. But what criteria do I use to make such choice? Who can I believe? How do I know who’s telling me the truth and who is just another deluded charlatan?

I just want to be free. I don’t want to be bound up by someone else’s beliefs.

The Buddha said to be “an island unto yourself, a refuge unto yourself, seeking no external refuge.” I think I’ll build myself a raft and paddle to my own island of freedom.

Hearing that, my mind immediately went to a Mahayana verse I’d heard when I first began sorting through Buddhism. It was written by Sengstan, the 3rd Zen Patriarch. It begins, “The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences.” The verse implies, as Sakula suggested, that to have  preferences is a bad thing to be avoided.

Never mind the argument that the “Great Way” and the “Middle Way” may not be the same thing, however much they have in common. Having preferences is part of life. We all have them. It is why one person prefers a Theravada practice while another prefers a Mahayana practice. Or one person prefers a life of virtue over a life of crime.

Preferences arise subtly as the mind inclines toward one thing rather than another. A preference is not a choice, because faced with a choice, there still is the inclination – even if we don’t act upon it. And that’s to the heart of it. Preferences can cause trouble for a couple of reasons. If following a preference causes harm for oneself or others, that’s bad karma. Sakula told the story of Ajahn Chah, who allowed a visitor to his monastery to read his palm. After a few moments, the palm reader became agitated, unsure if he wanted to reveal his reading. When pressed, he told Ajahn Chah he saw a lot of anger in him. Ajahn Chah admitted that it was true. He explained that, when he noticed an inclination toward anger, he didn’t “pick it up.”

Anger is something I’m familiar with. I don’t get angry much anymore – although there was a time when it was part of everyday life. Considering the idea of “not picking it up” makes good sense to me. Even if I still have an inclination toward it now and then, Most of the time I don’t touch it. That’s much different from managing anger.

Well into the writing of this piece, my dog wanted my attention. She kept whimpering at me and would not go away. I pet her head and scratched her ears. But she wouldn’t leave me alone. Whimper, whimper, whimper. I sensed the familiar irritation and knew what could come next. I tried not to pick it up, but there it was, firmly in my grasp. I put my computer aside and left the room. In a moment, though, I got the leash and we went for a walk. That was anger management. I might have picked up the leash right away, sensing my preference to write was being thwarted by my dog’s need for attention.

I think examining my preferences will be the object of meditation for the next few days.

But I have my doubts. Non-believer that I am, I am a firm believer that belief and truth often have nothing to do with one another.

Take for instance this story that says 34 percent of Republicans still don’t believe Barack Obama was born in the USA, and 18 percent are not sure. And maybe there is a small percentage of Republicans – and maybe a couple Democrats too – who believe a flat Earth is smack in the center of the universe, right where God put it. But that’s beside the point.

The point is that when I went to the Family Radio website, a little window popped up telling me that their donation server was down for maintenance. I wonder why a guy who is certain to be sucked up to heaven in a little more than a week is still taking donations.

The NPR stories describe believers who are in the process of divesting themselves of their possessions in preparation for the biggest bang since the Big Bang. As one interviewee put it, “We budgeted everything so that, on May 21, we won’t have anything left.” Another said, ”I have sold everything off. I have no more personal ambitions but to get the Gospel out to warn the world.”

Not only am I’m a non-believer, but I also have a slight cynical streak. Which makes me wonder if the Family Radio donation server was down for maintenance because it was swamped with believers giving all their money to Harold Camping — who, on May 22, may take it as a sign from God to continue his research.

What do you think?

He was in town long enough to give a Dhamma talk to the Friday evening regulars at the PFoD center. He spoke of his own teacher, the late Ajahn Chah, who was renowned for (among many other things) using everyday common events and objects to teach the Dhamma.

For example, Ajahn Pasanno told the story of the time someone asked Ajahn Chah to explain the essence of the Buddha’s teachings. Ajahn Chah picked up a stick and asked his curious visitor, “Is this a big stick or a little stick?” The bewildered man wondered what a stick had to do with Buddhism. Well, Ajahn Chah said, if what you want is a toothpick then it’s a big stick. If you want to build a house, it’s much too small. Again, What’s that got to do with Buddhism?

The essence of the Buddha’s teaching, Ajahn Chah explained, is that how you perceive things depends on what you desire. Or your desires influence your perceptions.

I’d been thinking a lot about perception lately, so I was very interested in this story (perhaps perceiving it to be a lesson just for me). Perception is one of the five aggregates (form, feelings, perceptions, mental formations, and consciousness) that composes a person. Perceptions are the mental labels we give to things as they arise in our consciousness. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but the ability to change one’s perception of things must be at least part of the logic behind practicing metta, or loving-kindness meditation.

Change your perceptions, change the world.