Cynicism and the Three Pillars of Zen

I enjoy visiting New York City, a city famed for its cynicism.  In fact, being a New Yorker is largely equated with being a cynic.  Cynicism is not confined to one group of people, however.  In fact, it often seems that cynicism is culturally celebrated to the point that it is almost considered an art form.  In contrast, consider skepticism.  Instead of an art, skepticism is at the heart of science.  We do not want to believe anything until we have some reason to believe it.  This appears to be very similar to the Buddhist view, that you should not believe things just because someone told them to you, but instead to trust your own experience.  So what is the difference?  Shambhala senior teacher Ethan Nichtern once gave a talk that discussed this distinction, which I largely summarize here.

 In the Japanese Zen tradition, it is said that there are three pillars of an approach to life that can bring us understanding and balance.  The first of these is dai-gidan, which is often translated as "great doubt."  Doubting has immense power. It allows us to remain curious and to consider multiple alternative perspectives.  This is deeply important because as soon as we think we understand something, we stop paying attention.  We then miss the truth about it because nothing is ever as simple as our minds try to make them.  Once we think we think we have the answer, we stop questioning.   Once we understand something, we grow bored with it.  Consider the example of your family.  Perhaps you have had the experience that your parents and siblings treat you similarly year after year, not realizing how much you have changed.  This is one danger of thinking that we "know" something.  Great doubt is so valuable because we can continue to pay attention to see what we haven't seen before.  It helps us to keep from closing off our minds because we believe that we are "right" (and everyone thinks they are right, even though the truth is that we are almost always wrong... but that is a subject for another post).

Doubt is clearly valuable, but on its own it is shallow.  The second pillar is dai-shinkon, or "great faith."  These two seem contradictory, don't they?  How can one have both great doubt and great faith?  The faith of Buddhism is not the blind faith that many religions have (such as the Christian faith I was raised in – where one is simply asked to believe certain things without any particular reason and without questioning them).  As Sharon Salzberg states in her book Faith, faith is better thought of as a verb than as a noun.  Faith isn't something you have, it's something you do.   Therefore, the great faith is a faith in the power of scrutiny – it is faith that the power of genuine curiosity and openness will lead you to something valuable.  It is a faith in your own experience. 

So what is cynicism?  It is great doubt without great faith.  Think about something you have been cynical about.  In my life, I have often been cynical about romantic relationships and marriage.  When you are feeling cynical, what types of things do you think about?  You think harsh things, often bitter things.  You often blame someone (perhaps even yourself, which can be a good thing).  You may say very clever things that express your cynicism (as examples, the US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger once said, "90% of politicians give the other 10% a bad name," or American writer Ambrose Bierce defined love as "a temporary insanity, curable by marriage.").  These witty cynical sayings betray three deeper issues – there is a deep hurt or disappointment underneath, there is a sense of helplessness about the situation, and there is a desire to regain control (or at least to appear to have some control).  But if we do not temper the doubt without faith, then we will not see the opportunities to change the situation.  In fact, if I am always cynical about romantic relationships, this would be likely to scare off many people with whom I could have had a good relationship. 

As a university professor, I am surrounded by smart people and people who wish to appear smart.  One thing I have witnessed countless times is that people are often critical of things simply as a way to appear smart.   Imagine going to a movie with some friends and after seeing the movie you ask your friends what they thought of it.  If one says that he liked it because the characters developed in a believable way and another says that he didn't like it because he thought the plot was too simplistic, we will usually feel that the second person thought more deeply about the movie and somehow has a smarter opinion.  It is funny that we value criticism so much, but it is very human.  Humans have what is called a "negativity bias."  We overvalue negative information relative to neutral or even positive information.  For example, if you are considering what type of car to buy and you hear one positive thing about a type of car and one negative thing, you will make your decision based far more on the negative information than on the positive information.  In fact, you will likely override five positive things if you hear one negative thing! (Baumeister, Bratslavsky, Finkenauer, & Vohs, 2001) It is actually very easy to criticize things and people.  So why do we think that criticism demonstrates something smart, when everyone can do it without actually knowing anything?  Therefore great doubt is not sufficient.

Great faith by itself, however, is no better.  If all we have is a deep belief in our own experience and thoughts, we will be arrogant.  We will have a tendency to become fundamentalists, where we think that our way of believing is the only possible correct way.  We will think that we are "right" and we will dismiss other's ideas, thoughts, feelings, and beliefs.  This way of thinking will not bring us happiness, only conflict.

Faith cannot simply be equated with belief, however.  Faith must mean that we are searching.  Faith implies a questioning, and that we believe/have faith that we will be able to make progress. We will find a truth.  But is this Truth with a capital "T?"  Only if we forget great doubt.  Great faith without great doubt is blind belief that we have found Truth.  Yet our own experience teaches us that truths change constantly.  Who we are is constantly changing.  The world and all the people in it are constantly changing.  Our relationships with ourselves, each other, and even with God are changing.  In fact, we often become cynical because some Truth turned out not to be as permanent as we had hoped.

How is skepticism different from cynicism?  It is great doubt in balance with great faith.  We do not hold tightly onto any capital-T truth, although we constantly seek truths.  We understand that our conception of truth may change as we learn more, and we believe that our seeking will be useful.  We have faith that we can trust our experiences, yet we doubt that we have ever learned everything that we need to.  I might even go so far as to claim that skepticism is a type of wisdom.  It is wise to rely on what you have learned, but to know that you do not yet know everything there is and are therefore going to make mistakes. 

Great doubt and great faith are only two of the pillars, and although they bring a balance they do not bring progress.  The third pillar is dai-funshi, often translated as "great effort."  This is the effort needed to keep questioning, to keep exploring, to keep from becoming cynical.  Cynicism takes no effort, which is one of the reasons why it feels so good.  It's a way of feeling in control of something that we aren't in control of without putting in any real effort. 

Great effort is what moves us back and forth along the balance between doubt and faith.  It is easy to believe we are right.  It is easy to stop being curious.  It is easy to rely on the prejudices and stereotypes we have.  In fact, the reason we have these prejudices is often beneficial much of the time. 

Consider this story:  You know a girl whom you think of as your best friend.  You like to confide in her, to tell her your secrets.  You feel that you can always rely on her to stick up for you.  But you learn that she actually always tells your secrets to other people and makes fun of you behind your back.  It would be foolish to continue to consider her as your best friend.  On the other hand, if she has a history of betraying your trust, then it is to your benefit to change your idea of her.  But if you now assume that she is likely to be unkind to you, you will probably treat her very differently.  This may make it harder for you to be friends again in the future. 

We like to put labels on people.  We give them labels such as friend, enemy, Republican, Democrat, liar, stupid, funny, etc.  The problem isn't that we have the labels.... the problem is that we believe the labels to be Truth.  People are more than what we see.  Reality is always more complex than we perceive and remember.  As long as we believe in the label, we will always miss seeing the real person.  If someone has stopped being our friend, as long as we believe that she has become an enemy, she cannot become our friend again.  It is hard to hold both points of view at once – that she often acts unkindly, but maybe she might act kindly sometimes too.  This is where great effort is needed.

Reference: Baumeister, R. F., Bratslavsky, E., Finkenauer, C., & Vohs, K. D. (2001). Bad is stronger than good.  Review of General Psychology, 5, 323-370.  This post originally appeared on The Interdependence Project blog.  Images sources here, here, here, and here.

What Do You Mean, "You're Welcome?"

I was recently in France and Spain, trying pathetically to at least speak the bare minimum of niceties in each country’s language.  This brought me face-to-face with some of the differences in phrasing, and potentially some differences in meaning.  In America, we’ve all been taught to say “You’re welcome” when someone thanks us for something.  In fact, most of us have learned this polite response so well that it’s almost a nervous tic.  We say it automatically, with little thought other than perhaps a vague feeling that we should say it.  Yet, it is a surprisingly remarkable phrase, especially when contrasted with the equivalent phrase in other languages. 

Buddhism teaches us to examine the routine aspects of our experience, especially those we do habitually or automatically.  It also teaches us that our intentions matter, which become especially interesting to consider for habitual responses.  Do they even have an intention once they’ve become automatic?

When we say “you’re welcome,” it can be perfunctory, with no intention and little attention, other than to complete a ritual or to be perceived as gracious and polite.  Yet at its core, this is a profound statement of intention.

In many other languages the corresponding phrase is dismissive.  “De nada” in Spanish, “Ne rien” in French, “Nincs mit” in Hungarian, “Bú kèqi” in Chinese, and even “No worries” in Australian all basically mean “It’s nothing, don’t mention it, it’s no problem.”  This approach can certainly be gracious, but it also seems like it could be taken as not paying attention.  It ignores what might have taken genuine effort - It doesn’t acknowledge intent.

In contrast, “you’re welcome” demonstrates intent.  It offers the other person freedom to act.  If I welcome you to my home, I am setting you free in it. I am giving you access, and am not guarding or protecting or clinging to it.  This seems to me to be a profound intent to let go, to allow, and to honor the other beings.  It doesn’t cling to the idea of a certain outcome.  In this way, “you’re welcome” seems very different from “It’s nothing.”  Although we often say it with very little intention, we could change that.  With a small amount of effort, we can pay attention to this little letting go with compassionate intent.

Examining the differences between these meanings, however, is only one approach to consider.  How are these ways of saying it similar?  They all seem to demonstrate an understanding of emptiness (shunyata) and non-self.

De nada.  It’s nothing.  I see the gap.  There is no necessary action required.  There is no outcome needed.  There is nothing to cling to (even if I have an intention of lovingkindness).

No matter which phrase we use, it expresses an openness to whatever is occurring and will occur, without worrying about what I need to do next.  I am not feeling indebted to you, nor do I expect something from you.  When we say “it’s nothing,” “no problem,” “you’re welcome,” can we see the emptiness we’re pointing toward?  Can we have the intention to allow the moment to unfold without our control, trusting in the inherent fecundity of the emptiness?

(This article was first published on the Interdependence Project Blog.  Image sources not by the author are here and here.)

The Biggest Easy - The Flip-Side of Suffering

For the past few posts, we've been discussing the Four Noble Truths, which (in an overly simplistic manner) are that suffering exists in our lives, that we cause much of it ourselves through our attachments, aversions, and ignorance, that we don't have to suffer, and that there is a path to freedom from suffering.  This is often perceived as being somewhat dismal.  I'd like to suggest a different way to frame it, however (based on a talk given by Gil Fronsdal).

Although the goal of the Buddhist path is liberation from suffering, we don't usually talk about what happens after we achieve that goal.  What does Nirvana look like?  There are good reasons why there is very little written about what the goal should look or feel like.  First, there is not necessarily only one way to experience it, so anything I could describe would not be accurate for many people.  Second, once described, it creates an ideal that people would cling to, and this clinging would prevent them from achieving it.  Nonetheless, it is possible to give a better sense of what the goal is if we reframe the Four Noble Truths from the positive side.

Nothing exists without its opposite, and the flip side of suffering is ease.  As we've noted before (here and here), happiness isn't actually the opposite - the way most Americans think about happiness is actually a form of suffering!  We really want to be able to experience the richness of our lives (the joys, the sorrows, the frustrations, the challenges) with a sense of ease, slipping through each experience with a sense of ease.  We could, therefore, repackage the Four Noble Truths from this perspective.

First Noble Truth:  The possibility of ease exists.
Second Noble Truth:  It is possible to lose the ease.
Third Noble Truth: It is possible to regain the ease.
Fourth Noble Truth: There is a path by which we can regain and maintain the ease.

Personally, I find this to be a really motivating approach, partly because it fits with where I am in my practice.    This wasn't always the case, however.  There have been times when my suffering was so intense that I needed to do something about it, and that was the total focus of my motivation.  Whether we are motivated to practice because of a focus on the suffering or a focus on the lightness and ease doesn't really matter much.  The focus on suffering may be a more realistic spiritual path, because it's grounded in what's actually happened in your experience, rather than a focus on an ideal of peace in the future.

Nonetheless, there often comes a time when people have an experience of ease that is personal, direct, and visceral, and then the ease no longer functions as some idealized state, but one that you have some experience with.  Ease now can become the teacher, as Gil Fronsdal says, particularly when you argue with it.

The argument question is, for what is it worth sacrificing my ease?

We often cling to our suffering, as if it were important.  Some people even seem to base their sense of self on worrying or complaining.

I know several people who always complain about everything, as if somehow that makes them feel better - yet, they never stop complaining, so it clearly isn't working. All that practicing has made us expert at complaining, so it becomes automatic.  Sometimes we believe it is important to worry or to plan, and sometimes it is.  So this is the question - is now one of those times?  Will I really perform some task better if I sacrifice feeling comfortable and at peace and instead worry, plan, and complain?

Once we find this sense of ease, we can practice it until it becomes automatic too.  It can become the default.  It is important to realize that this is not the same as indifference, which is a state of being closed off to the world.  On the contrary, it is becoming open to every possibility, able to work with whatever arises in each situation.  It becomes a stable platform from which we can see clearly in all directions, and therefore be of much greater help to everyone around you (as well as yourself).

I should probably end this post here, but in the interest of providing the whole truth it is worth noting an obstacle on this journey.  We began this series of posts looking at why people may be afraid to meditate, and there is at least one more reason that is relevant here.  Buddhist meditation forces us to confront how we have acted unskillfully, harming ourselves and others in the process.  This honest appraisal allows us to have the motivation necessary to change the patterns.  Nevertheless, some people stop meditating precisely because it makes us confront these uncomfortable feelings of how we have been injured and how we have contributed to the injuries.  If you believed that meditation was just a stress reliever, then facing this will be disheartening, and many people stop here.  Yet, if we can go through this, learning from the insights that arise, we can get to a place of ease that is profoundly different from where we normally live.

Science versus Faith - The Fourth Noble Truth (the Eightfold Path)

What attracts me to Buddhism is that it's a practice – it’s not a faith.  There is nothing you have to believe just because someone says it's true.  Every practice can be tried and its validity tested.  At the very core of Buddhism is the Eightfold Path - a set of specific practices to be undertaken with the goal of liberation from suffering.

The past few posts have been on what are called the Four Noble Truths - the first teaching that the historical Buddha gave after his enlightenment.  To summarize, they say that (1) suffering and stress exist, (2) we cause most of it by our own thoughts and actions, but (3) we don't have to suffer.  The Fourth Noble Truth is that there is a path we can follow to be liberated from suffering - this is the Eightfold Path.  I should apologize about the length of this post - even keeping it brief it's going to be long.  Why?  I've noted before that Buddhists love numbered lists - just wait till you see this one...there are lists within lists in the Eightfold Path!

The first two arms of the path focus on discernment, or wisdom (prajna), the next three focus on ethical conduct and discipline (sila), and the last three focus on stability and concentration (samadhi):

1. Right view/outlook/understanding:  This is the cognitive aspect of wisdom, where we can examine for ourselves the Noble Truths and realize that there is some accuracy to them. 
2. Right intention/resolve:  This is the volitional aspect of wisdom.  Once we see that there is a path out of suffering, we aspire to end suffering.  Recognizing that thoughts precede actions, we resolve to set foot on the path. The Buddha discussed three kinds of right intention:
• Renunciation - Aspiring to let go of the need for certain outcomes; this is an antidote to desire.
• Good will - Aspiring to think and act kindly, even to our enemies; this is an antidote to ill will.
• Harmlessness - Aspiring to do no harm, even to our enemies; this is an antidote to aggression.
3. Right speech - there are four types:

• Abstaining from lying, abstaining from from divisive speech/slander/gossip, abstaining from abusive/harsh/unkind words, and abstaining from idle chatter that serves no purpose
• Ultimately, the issue is if it isn't (1) true, (2) beneficial, and (3) timely, one ought not to say it.  For example, saying something brutally honest at the wrong time is unskillful speech, and can bring harm rather than benefit.
• Although the Buddha didn't directly discuss this, to my knowledge, it is beneficial to think about this as referring to both inner speech and outer speech.  We are often harsh and critical of ourselves, and this brings no benefit (and it's often too extreme, and therefore untrue).
4. Right action/conduct - Again, three kinds:
• Abstaining from killing
• Abstaining from taking what is not given
• Abstaining from sexual conduct
5. Right livelihood
• This is a tricky one, given that the world has changed so much since the time of the Buddha.  I tend to think the important aspects are (1) your wealth/income is obtained through rightful means, (2) what you need to do in your job is not in conflict with right speech or right action.  Traditionally, the Buddha listed five types of jobs that are in conflict with the goal of liberation from suffering: selling weapons, trafficking in human beings, meat production, selling intoxicants, and selling poisons.
6. Right effort
• To change our thoughts and behaviors takes effort.  Effort by itself is neither wholesome nor unwholesome, so there are four types of right effort.
  
• Preventing unwholesome thoughts/behaviors from arising
• Letting go of unwholesome thoughts/behaviors once they have arisen
• Cultivating wholesome thoughts and behaviors so they arise more frequently
• Maintaining wholesome thoughts and behaviors once they have arisen
7. Right mindfulness/awareness/attention
• This is about learning be mindful of what is actually occurring at each instant, and letting go of our typical tendency to label, categorize, and judge everything - it's sometimes called bare attention.
• Traditionally, there are four foundations of mindfulness - mindfulness of body, feeling, mind, and phenomena (mental constructs), which we can discuss another time.
• The goal is through learning to be mindful of yourself, including thoughts and feelings, you begin to discern some basic truths in your own experience (the three characteristics of Dharma).  First, that all things are impermanent.  Everything with a beginning has an ending.  Everything is in a constant state of change.  Second, that suffering exists (the First Noble Truth of dukkha).  Third, that we ourselves are not the singular, independent, permanent, important selves we usually feel ourselves to be, but that we are interdependent and also constantly changing (the concept of non-self).
8. Right meditation/concentration

• This is where meditation comes in, training for stable and concentrated attention (traditionally on wholesome thoughts and actions)
• This trains the unification (collecting) of the mind.  Note that it takes right effort to keep the mind focused, right mindfulness to become aware of any hindrances to concentration, and then right effort again to eliminate the hindrances and to create the conditions conducive to concentration.

With the new-found clarity, awareness, and stability that comes from mindfulness and meditation, we are able to see more deeply and gain wisdom and equanimity, and then we're back around to increasing Right View.  The Eightfold Path is not really a linear path, but a spiral, with lots of connections between the eight parts.

Let's take a step back, and consider the word "right" at the beginning of each of these.  The Pali word is samma, and it doesn't mean right in the sense of right versus wrong.  It's right in the way of being skillful, complete, correct for the job, like a hammer is the "right" tool for the job of hitting a nail.  So I personally prefer translating these as skillful speech, skillful effort, etc.

It is significant that although we think of the path to enlightenment as a personal journey, half of the eight arms to the path are about our relationship with others or the world around us.

The Eightfold Path ultimately is a gradual path.  First we find it, we see that it leads somewhere valuable, and we set an intention to walk it.  As we start down it, we find that it’s not solitary, but brings us into communion with others; therefore our intentions are relevant, our thoughts are relevant, our speech and actions are relevant.  We find that by paying attention to making our thoughts, speech, and actions more skillful, we become better able to care for our own minds and hearts so we can shed unhelpful states.  Mindfulness and a heightened capacity to notice is relevant, and with time we become more focused, stable, and concentrated.  As we begin to change, the qualities grow inside until the destination and you are no different, and you know peace.

So what is the role of faith in Buddhism?  It may take some faith to set foot on the path, but over time, you will find what works and what doesn’t, and you will build your own knowledge and wisdom, ultimately relying on yourself – not faith in something I told you or some magical external power.

Sorry....that's as simple as I could make it.  Next time we'll tackle something easy, like quantum physics.

Nirvana is Not Just a Band - The Third Noble Truth

In the last post, we discussed how we have conditioned emotional reactions to things that make us want them, want to avoid them, or not care about them (the Three Poisons).  These reactions are natural, but when we begin to believe that our reaction is Truth, or that we must react based on them without reflection, they usually cause us (and others) more suffering.  Yet, they can be overcome.  This is known as the Third Noble Truth - that we don't have to suffer.  In Buddha's words, "The extinction of greed, the extinction of hate, the extinction of delusion; this, indeed, is called Nirvana." (Translation by Nyanatiloka).

In the Titthiya Sutta mentioned last time, Buddha discussed how passion/grasping/wanting arises through the "theme of the attractive," how aggression/aversion arises by the "theme of irritation," and how ignorance/delusion arises due to "inappropriate attention."  He then goes further in this sutra to say that the three poisons can be kept from arising or abandoned once they have arisen.

1. Passion/clinging/grasping can be overcome through the "theme of the unattractive....For one who attends appropriately to the theme of the unattractive, unarisen passion does not arise and arisen passion is abandoned."
• When we are feeling that we want something, we tend to focus only on the positive aspects of it.  We then become unbalanced and are ultimately disappointed because it can't live up to our expectations, thus continuing the cycle of stress.  If instead, once we notice that we are attracted to something, we also pay attention to the potential negative aspects, then we can still want it but we won't become so unbalanced or disappointed.  
2. Aversion/aggression can be overcome through loving-kindness or good will.
• When we are irritated or angry, we similarly tend to focus only on the negative aspects of the situation or person.  We rehearse all the negative aspects and how we would like to respond harshly.  If we do act aggressively, the cycle continues.  If instead, once we notice that we are feeling irritated, we also pay attention to how the other people involved are also suffering, we can feel some compassion for their point of view.  We can even wish them well rather than harm, knowing that if they started feeling better, they would likely be less irritating to us, or at least the situation wouldn't escalate and get worse.
3. Ignorance/delusion can be overcome with appropriate attention.
• When we don't know or don't care about something, we don't pay it any attention.  Once we think we understand something, we stop paying good attention.  This ensures that we continue to delude ourselves into thinking that we understand it or that it's not worth our time.  If, instead, we approach the things we don't know or care about with a sense of curiosity, we are likely to find something interesting.

There is a general theme in Buddhism (as seen above) that for every affliction, there is an antidote.  Once the antidote has been applied effectively, then what?  [Cue the Seattle grunge sound]

Nirvana!

There isn't only one way to understand Nirvana, and I can only speak from my experience.  Some people think of it similarly to the typical Christian idea of heaven, as a wonderful place your spirit can go once you die and escape from the cycle of samsaric death and rebirth.  As an American Buddhist, I have a hard time with this approach.  It strikes me that there is a more literal way to understand it.

The word nirvana means to blow out or extinguish, as one blows out a candle.  Alan Watts describes nirvana as a very literal blowing out, such as when we say "Phew!" to demonstrate our relief.  I think this is the secret to understanding Nirvana.

It's not a special place you go, it's not even a special state you achieve (like after achieving a college degree you have it forever).  It's actually a very ordinary state...it's the state of being present and not being ruled by the three poisons.  Remember Buddha's quote above, "The extinction of greed, the extinction of hate, the extinction of delusion; this, indeed, is called Nirvana."  When you are completely present and aware of what you're doing, not attached to any future outcome, not worried about what happened before, this is Nirvana.  This is indeed liberating.  This is "phew" contentment.  This is living with ease. This is productivity at work. This is where your loved ones feel loved by your presence. This is where great art is created.

But what does it mean to be liberated from the cycle of death and rebirth?  As an American Buddhist, I have difficulty thinking of this in the sense of reincarnation over countless lifetimes.  I think a more basic way is to realize that this is speaking about karma.  The concept of karma also has gathered lots of mystical meaning over the centuries, but at its root, it just means "action," as in action and reaction.  For any action you take, there will be a reaction.  If you act in a damaging way, you will reap the consequences of it in the future.  As long as we are ruled by the Three Poisons, we will continue to act in ways that have difficult consequences for ourselves and those around us.

We could also think about death and rebirth in this framework of our actions.  Consider, for example, if I am feeling aggressive and I spread a rumor about you, this action has consequences that ripple outwards into the future.  You become hurt by this.  Perhaps a year later you find out that I was the person who started the rumor.  At that point, although my original action is dead, it is reborn by you.  You are now thinking about it and harmed by it anew.  If you act out of aggression now, I become hurt.  This is my karma in the broader sense...my actions have returned to me as consequences.  My being hurt by you just reinforces the anger I had a year ago, and it is reborn...and the cycle continues.

If I had to guess, I'd say that 95% of the time (+/-5%, since I'm a scientist) that we are feeling a difficult emotion (sadness, anger, fear, shame, guilt, etc.), it is not because the difficult situation is happening then.  We ruminate over past and future imagined hurts and threats.  This keeps us locked into the karmic cycle of death and rebirth - we keep giving birth anew to these feelings.  This is samsara, the wheel of dukkha (discontent).  If we were able to apply the antidote, let it go, and refocus on what we're actually doing, we would achieve Nirvana in that moment.  Let me give a personal example.

Many years ago, I went through a terrible divorce that caused me serious damage.  In fact, from my perspective, the ruthless way in which it was done was designed to cause as much damage as possible.  As can be imagined, I spent many months in despair, anger, self-pity, blaming, rage, etc.  One "enlightenment" moment came one evening as I was washing the dishes.  I was crucifying myself with my strong emotions, thinking about what I should have said, what I'd like to do in my rage, etc.  On this evening, however, I stopped myself and said, "What am I doing right now?  I'm washing the dishes.  Does washing the dishes hurt me?  No."  I realized that all the suffering I was going through was being caused entirely by me at that time.  My ex wasn't there saying the things I was imagining.  Perhaps she had said them in the past, but she wasn't saying them at that moment.  Recognizing this, I let it go and paid my full attention to the dishes.  That is Nirvana.  My suffering ceased and I stopped thinking about doing things that would only increase my future suffering.

Nirvana is not a place we go.  It's not a special state that once we achieve we are always there (at least most humans can't).  Instead, it's a special state we can have at any time.  In fact, it's a state that we have all experienced any time you are so engrossed in a task that you are completely focused on all the details.  Learning how to get to Nirvana and stay there for longer and longer periods takes work and time.  And maybe...just maybe...once we're there, it will smell like teen spirit.

Our Endless Cycle of Hope and Fear - The Second Noble Truth

In the last post, we discussed how we tend to have a pervasive feeling that things are unsatisfactory, stressful, or just not quite enough, and that even getting what we want often ironically increases this feeling.  Why do we have this feeling (dukkha)?

The Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta states that the origin of stress and suffering is "craving."  The Pali word used here is tanha, which can be also defined as a demanding desire or thirst.  This is distinct from chanda, a desire to do, which can be beneficial.  This statement that craving/thirst/desire is the root of suffering is known in Buddhism as the Second Noble Truth.

This seems to make intuitive sense.  If we truly don't worry about something, it doesn't cause much suffering.  But what does craving mean?  The Buddha said there are three types of craving.

1. Craving for sense pleasures
• Have you noticed how easily you can become bored with something, even something you really like?  Each of our six senses (sight, smell, touch, taste, hearing, and thinking) seems to like novelty.  We are attracted to things we haven't seen before, or are different from what is currently happening.
• Consider the sense of anxiety that many of us have that makes us check our email or text messages constantly, needing something new to see, hear, etc.
• The funny thing about this is that we believe that by following this desire for the next sense pleasure we will attain happiness, but it never works for long and the pattern never ends (this is one defining characteristic of samsara, the wheel of suffering).  But if you aren't grateful for and content with what you already have, what makes you think that having more will somehow change that?
2. Craving for existence - craving to be
• We have a desire to be stable, solid, permanent, and ongoing - we want to feel like we matter
• We want to believe that we have a past and a future
• We have a desire to compete, prevail, and ultimately dominate
3. Craving for non-existence
• We often spend a lot of time wishing (craving) for bad feelings, annoying people, and difficult situations to go away
• We want to be separate from painful experiences
• We don't want to experience the world in all of its rawness

Summing these up, it seems to me that we basically get stuck in an endless cycle of hope and fear.

One way of considering this cycle of hope and fear is the idea of the Eight Worldly Concerns, also called the Eight Worldly Dharmas or Eight Worldy Winds (Yes, Buddhists LOVE to make numbered lists of things!).  The idea is that we are constantly engaged in seeking something and avoiding something in this group of four pairs:

• Pleasure or pain
  
• Loss or gain
• Disgrace or fame
• Praise or blame

We clearly prefer one of these and not the other on our treadmill of hope and fear, constantly running from one of each pair and toward the other.  The problem is that no matter which of these 8 concerns arises, it is temporary and usually not particularly important in the course of our lives, so why do we make such a big deal to ourselves about them?  (To read what Buddha said about these and the difference between ordinary and enlightened approaches to them, read the Lokavipatti Sutta.)

But this is only part of the issue.  Although it is fairly easy to notice in ourselves how most of our planning and rumination about what just happened to us is linked to one of these eight concerns, these only focus on our personal motivations:  What we believe is happening to ME.  But we are actually concerned about far more than ourselves.  We care about what happens to others.  We care about what happens to our things.  We care about what happens to the planet.  We are not solely focused on these 8 worldly concerns - these are an outgrowth of a more basic human tendency called the Three Poisons (I told you Buddhists love lists).

The Three Poisons are how we almost automatically and immediately have one of three possible reactions to any and everything that arises in our experience - we are either attracted to it, repelled by it, or don't care about it.  This is true about people, situations, our sensations, and even our own feelings and thoughts.  In the Titthiya Sutta, Buddha describes the reasons why these occur.  The three are translated into different English words by different translators, so I have given a couple below to give a more complete sense of their flavor.

The Three Poisons

1. Attachment or passion
• Buddha notes that the cause of attachment/passion is the "theme of the attractive," and that it "carries little blame and is slow to fade."  That is, when we are attracted to something or someone, when we want it, we see only its good qualities.  We become unbalanced. The object of our passion carries little blame - we can't see the bad qualities.  We also believe ourselves to be be blameless in the pursuit of our beloved object, believing that the ends of getting our goal justify our means.  Because it is slow to fade, we will work very hard to achieve our goal of getting what we want.
2. Aversion or aggression
   
• Buddha notes that the cause of aversion/aggression is the "theme of irritation," and that it "carries great blame and is quick to fade."  That is, when we get irritated or annoyed by something or someone, we see only the bad qualities.  We again become unbalanced.  The person we are annoyed with carries great blame - we only see the bad qualities and the damage that they allegedly did.  We do not see how we were part of the problem, and we strike out in anger or frustration.  Once we have decided that the other is to blame, or once we have retaliated, we often feel somewhat satisfied, and the aggression fades until it is prompted again.
3. Ignorance or delusion
• Buddha notes that the cause of ignorance/delusion is "inappropriate attention," and that it "carries great blame and is slow to fade."  That is, when we think something is uninteresting, boring, or we honestly just don't know or care about it, it is because we really haven't yet tried to understand it.  The Greek roots of "ignorance" mean very literally "to not know."  We ignore the people and objects that don't seem immediately important to us, which can cause us to fail to act appropriately to get the most benefit out of the situation.  We ourselves are solely to blame for not paying sufficient attention, and we are slow to realize that we should take more care.

It is a good exercise when meditating to notice that almost every arising thought and feeling has one of the three poisons attached to it.  When planning something, we're grasping after trying to control something in the future - we are attached to the idea of trying to achieve some outcome.  When remembering some annoyance, we bring up feelings of aggression or we think about how we can work to avoid the person/situation in the future, or what unkind thing we "should" have said.  When we think of something that we don't really have a feeling about, we could approach it with a feeling of curiosity to try to understand it better, but we usually don't.  We even attach these feelings to our emotions, trying to avoid emotions we dislike and seek ones we like better.

Ultimately, in the Buddhist perspective, this grasping after certain outcomes, wishing to avoid others, and ignoring other possibilities is what causes our suffering and stress.  This is good news.  Knowing why we feel such discomfort in our own lives gives us something to work with to reduce it.  And we can reduce it - we can break out of this endless cycle of hope and fear (knowing this is the Third Noble Truth, which we'll discuss next).

Getting What You Want Isn't What You Want - The First Noble Truth

Gautama Buddha, the historical Buddha, lived between about 563 and 483 BC in India on the border of present-day Nepal. He was a son of the King Sudhodana, ruler of  the tribe called the Sakyas (from where Buddha derived the title Sakyamuni, meaning "Sage of the Sakyas"). The young prince also received the name of Siddhartha. He maintained a privileged life behind the palace walls until one day he decided to visit the nearby town. The king called for everything to be swept and decorated, and any disturbing, unpleasant, or sad sight to be removed. But while Gautama was travelling through the streets, an old wrinkled man appeared before him. In astonishment the young prince learned that decrepitude is the fate of those who live long enough. Later he saw someone seriously ill, and then a funeral procession with a corpse, both of which opened his eyes to suffering and death. Finally he met an ascetic, a beggar, who told Gautama that he had left the world to pass beyond suffering and joy, to attain peace at heart.

Gautama left his palace, wife, and child, and became an ascetic for about 6 years, desiring to understand and eliminate suffering.  Although he achieved deep meditation states, his body suffered and he did not achieve peace.  Finally, he achieved the realization that there is a middle way between selfish indulgence and asceticism.  He became aware of what are now known as the Four Noble Truths – that suffering (dukkha) is universal, the cause of suffering, that suffering can be overcome, and the path by which it can be overcome.  With this insight, he became the Buddha, which simply means one who is awake.

About seven weeks after the Buddha’s awakening, he met five former ascetic companions, and the Four Noble Truths are seen as the first teaching he gave.  The four truths are not as such things to “believe,” but to open to, contemplate, see for yourself, and respond to.  In this post, we focus on the first of the Noble Truths - that dukkha exists. (If you want to read some of the details, see HERE)

Dukkha: Although this is usually translated into English as suffering, dis-ease, unsatisfactoriness, discomfort, anxiety, and stress may be somewhat better. There are several types of dukkha.  Gompopa (in the “Jewel Ornament of Liberation”) organizes them into these three types:

1. Dukkha - Dukkha (Suffering of suffering):  Ordinary suffering or pain, which can be physical, emotional, or mental

2. Viparinama Dukkha (Suffering of Change):  Suffering brought on by the truth of impermanence, and our desire to keep things from changing. 

3. Samkhara Dukkha (Suffering of Conditioned States; All-Pervasive suffering):  This is the trickiest to define.  It's basically suffering brought on by our neurotic habits, by being a self with the Five Skandhas (the five aggregates that we mistake for “self”), which are constantly changing.  In brief, we have bodies and things have forms, we have sensations and feelings, we have perceptions and cognitions, we have thoughts, opinions, prejudices, and attitudes, and we have consciousness.  One way of thinking about it is that these five Skandhas maintain a reference to "self," which causes us to separate the world into self and other, which can cause suffering.

As you might have noticed from this list, suffering is much more complicated than it at first appears.  In fact, the Buddha defined eight types: 

"Now this, monks, is the Noble Truth of dukkha: Birth is dukkha, aging is dukkha, death is dukkha; sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, & despair are dukkha; association with the unbeloved is dukkha; separation from the loved is dukkha; not getting what is wanted is dukkha. In brief, the five clinging-aggregates are dukkha." — SN 56.11 

I tend to think that  there is a ninth type of suffering - getting what we want.

Think about it.  As soon as you get that thing you really desired, you start worrying about it.  You get the fancy car and then begin stressing about it getting door dings, or breaking down, or stolen.   Getting what you want begets dukkha when it gets boring (aging), when it breaks (death), when we worry about it getting stolen or harmed (distress), or after we've lost it (separation from the loved).

Basically, there is a dependent co-arising of both happiness and stress when we get what we want.  

One place one can often see this clearly is in our romantic relationships.  The very thing that attracts you so much to a person is usually the exact thing that is particularly annoying later on.  For example, you are attracted to someone because of how flirty he is?  He won't stop being flirty after he's with you, and then you might not like it as much.  You are attracted to how free-spirited she is?  It will be annoying when she doesn't fit neatly into the little box you would like to keep her in once you're together (c.f., the home for manic pixie dream girls video).  You are attracted to how smart someone is, and what a great probing intellect he/she has?  You might not like it later when he/she turns that probing critical mind on you!

The point is that we continually believe that getting what we want will make us happy, but that's clearly not true.  Most of the time, getting what we think we want just maintains our suffering.

The good news is that the next three Noble Truths help us to understand why we suffer and how to stop.