Quiet Wanderer

I heard a story that once somebody tried to get Sister Theresa to join their protest against war or some particular violence going on in the world. To their surprise, she declined. Certainly the sister did not support war, they opined, so why would she not join them? She explained that she would not protest against anything; she would join them to promote peace if they were to so engage, but she would not activate against anything.

This practical example provides texture and feeling to the Buddha’s teaching, “I do not quarrel with the world.” It is, I think, fully free of judgment, opinion or view.

It strikes me that we, particularly Westerners, suffer from the affliction that we cannot let others have their opinions unless we approve of them. It is in English that we have evolved the uniquely begrudging stance to “agree to disagree”. It is hardly even bare acceptance as we maintain our rightness and righteousness and merely take the position that while your ideas are stupid I will surrender trying to make you understand how misguided you are. Through my great nobility I will allow you to exist with your foolish ideas.

A friend quotes a bumper sticker that struck him, “What you are thinking may be wrong.” It is not much better than agreeing to disagree, but it does give rise to a better proposition, “What I am thinking may be wrong.” What if I opened to the mere idea that you could, possibly, in some distant strange universe, be, perhaps not right, but at least not wrong? Might that open me to a new level of acceptance? Perhaps instead of agreeing to disagree, I might just notice that our perspectives differ and defer judgement over which perspective might be correct, or more correct, or point more directly toward the truth, or be less obviously wrong.

May that thought return when next I encounter an opinion. I could think, without any rash commitment, “what if you are right?”

Today, let me soften just a little. Tomorrow, let me remember.

I find my mind gathering much of late around the questions of how I walk this path.  I find great value in intellectual investigation – study of scripture, the query of commentary, discussion with noble friends and exchange of ideas with others, opening to views and possibilities.  Every text, every talk, every discussion, these are all words of my teacher, all guidance and grist. But, just as I would not discard the words of my teacher, so are these words of no value if I do not engage with them in a life of practice.

A practice unguided, uninformed by the experiences of those who have practiced long and investigated well the workings of the mind would be foolish for they help me find the path and find my way on the path. From one view, the Buddha was not special because he attained to liberation, but because he found the path on his own, without a teacher. I see no value in attempting a similar feat. But no better is it to embrace wise teachings and not put them into practice, to read the lessons but not do the exercises.

If I attend the gatherings, sit in singular meditation and listen to a dhamma talk, and then walk away until the next gathering, then I have done little, trusting that a subliminal imprint on the subtle mind might have some magical marginal manifestation in my speech, actions, perspectives or happiness. It is like waving a cloth over a bucket of dye and hoping the rising fumes will eventually color the cloth. How many times must I eat a raisin before I taste the coffee?

When I sit, what does it mean to “establish mindfulness before me”? What happened when I tried? What happened when I tried to be mindful of every breath, long and short, while walking, driving, sitting? Can I feel the in-breath while talking? Can I be mindful both in here and out there? When last did I practice listening? Can I listen with ears and eyes and body and mind? What if I try for a bit to be mindful of every in-breath that provides the puffs of air for speech? What would be the effect on what I say or how I say it? When last did I meditate? attend? give? try? care with action? open myself with effort? look in and reach out? how do I let go? what if I imagined acceptance as an expression of equanimity and then tried to do it?

Perhaps one day I will just sit, just walk, just see, just hear. What have I done today to train my mind, to calm the mind, to develop the perfections that are the base of just being? What is right action? right effort? What if I do?

Let me be present in this moment and let that presence be active and effortful. Wei wu wei – do not doing. Who claimed the effortless is attained without effort?

Reading Bhikkhu Bodhi’s article What Does It Mean To Be Enlightened, it occurred to me that the terms awakened, liberated, perfected and nibanna do not all point to the same thing.  There is a difference which can be explained by comparing them to the Buddha’s three conditions of enlightenment.

“What has to be known, that I have known;” – such is awakened
“What has to be abandoned, that I have abandoned;” – such is liberated
“What has to be developed, that I have developed;” – such is perfected in the paramis; abiding in the Brahma Viharas
“Therefore, O brahmin, I am a Buddha” –  such is enlightened; gone beyond; being awakened, liberated and perfected, he has attained to nibanna here and now

Awakening is the process of becoming awakened. An awakening experience, without an adjective, is a step on a long path – a moment noticed in such a way that it moves me forward one step.  To be awakened? I can’t say. Perhaps I’ll let you know; it is not my intent. To be liberated, supreme bliss, this is my goal. Perhaps there is a beyond, I don’t know; I seek only the end of suffering.

Life is art that draws itself. I have no greater purpose.

A presentation this evening used Stephen Batchelor’s translation of the four noble truths and he translates sammādiṭṭhi as appropriate seeing. It seems that Stephen has a problem with right view as it intimates (by implication in the definition of the words and explicitly in commentaries), that one must subscribe to a specific viewpoint or belief in order to join the Buddhist community. I think one could successfully argue that I must accept the basic ideas around suffering, the cause of suffering and the way to end suffering in order to embrace the eightfold path and follow it to liberation; but, to blindly accept a dogma on faith is not in keeping with the teaching of the Buddha. Thus,  I am sympathetic to Stephen’s position. Yet, I found myself wondering what exactly appropriate seeing meant and found the phrase just doesn’t work for me.

So, I have pondered a bit and decided what sammādiṭṭhi means for me is that I must be open to the possibility that four noble truths are true, perhaps even to accept them on faith as a working hypothesis, and I must be open minded enough to recognize the truth of my own experiences while following the eightfold path. Thus, I decided that right mindedness is a translation that works for me. I can hear the Buddha teaching: “What, monks, is right mindedness? Open-mindedness is right mindedness, oh monks. Being open to the truth of suffering, to the truth of the source of suffering, to the truth of the cessation of suffering – this is right mindedness. Believing not in the pronouncements of a guru but examining one’s own experience and being open to see the truth that is revealed by this investigation – this is right mindedness. And what is wrong mindedness? Wrong mindedness, oh monks, is narrow-minded belief in the dogma of this or that guru, in this or that view, such that one fails to investigate – this is wrong mindedness. Being close-minded to the truth revealed in one’s own investigation – this is wrong mindedness.”

Of course, along the way I had to go look at what the suttas say about sammādiṭṭhi and found the Sammādiṭṭhi Sutta. Hmmm. So, tell me again what about this implied a need to blindly believe in a dogma? After all, if I don’t believe in the four noble truths, what am I doing here anyway? Then I noticed that the Sammādiṭṭhi Sutta includes a discussion of rebirth, which is a notion that Stephen is completely unable to accept. Perhaps Stephen is a bit of an existentialist and appropriate seeing is his way of saying “I believe only in what I can experience, even in the somewhat metaphysical world of meditation, and I cannot experience rebirth and reject the notion that I must believe in rebirth.”

Well, I know that my perspective changes as I practice and experience and learn; but, for now, I really like right mindedness. It creates images for me that inspire me down the path. May I be open to investigation. May I be open to seeing. May I know a calm mind, a compassionate heart, the peace of equanimity and the liberating experience of absolute truth.

If I knew it was to be my last meal, why would I eat it?

I was looking up anatta today in a Pali dictionary, wanting to see the root word, which I supposed would be something like atta or a derivative of the Sanskrit word ātman.
Turns out, the Pali word is attan, which has the alternate spelling atta. Atta has a separate listing and the second definition is attan but the first definition is “that which has been taken up, assumed”.
So, instead of pondering anatta, not-self or non-self, I sat for a bit with the idea of self as that which has been taken up. From dependent origination, first there was ignorance and from this ignorance a thought arose and self was created and self re-creates self and thus there is birth and rebirth and another round of suffering.
But, this self I have taken up, this big ego balloon I keep breathing life into, is not permanent, not substantial, not worthy of attachment, clinging or dependence. Where then is this substantial self?
In teachings, the phrases often used are “not this, not that”, implying “I am not this. I am not that”. But, these leave the question, “I am… what?” Perhaps a better phrasing is “this is not self; that is not self”.
The Buddha lived in a world where the Hindu teaching of atman would be prevalent, that there is a higher Self that is one with Brahma and which is, joined with Brahma, all-pervading and ever-present. Perhaps the Buddha asked, where is this Self, this atman or atta? What is it that can overcome the law of impermanence, anicca, and be this supra-mundane Self? Not this, not that. There is no Self. Thus I might understand the teaching of anatta to emphasize that there is no thing which can be said to be the everlasting, profound self.
Yet, I am not comfortable with this perspective. I rather say I cannot know of things supra-mundane, I can only know this mundane self and the suffering here and now, and try to let go. Let go of clinging and craving and suffering and struggling. Put down this atta I have taken up. Let go and let the fires go out. Let go and know equanimity. Let go and know peace.

Sometimes, people speaking of studying or encountering spiritual teachings say that something rang true to them, as if there is some deep underlying wisdom in their being that they are trying to uncover and that when they encounter teachings that somehow connect with that unearthed wisdom, it is therefore valid or true.

How absurd. Should I really think such fanciful things of myself? Should I have such a massive ego? If I had such primordial wisdom, would I even be here? Let discovery move forward and not devolve into the ignorance that got me here.

I have returned recently from a long vacation enabled by a lack responsible employment and the subject has arisen of finding a gainful undertaking. A friend asked what I want to do and it raised in me the burning question, “What do I want to do?” Allowed sufficient time to fester this has evolved into a simpler question: “Why should I want to do anything?”

I think purpose, specifically the need to have purpose, is a disease. One without purpose is without ease. Perhaps my purpose is to become so happy without that I become happy within. I could easily start without a job, but what about all the other without this implies? Perhaps my within has a need which necessitates a without.