Month: June 2016

“Nikāya Buddha”?

On June 19, 2016

“Nikāya Buddha,” I say often. What do I mean? Why don’t I just say, like most teachers, “The Buddha said…”? What does the expression “Nikāya Buddha” mean?

I’ll try not to be too technical, and my account is not meant to be at all representative of scholarly views. It simply gives a rough sketch of what a practitioner is up against, if they depend on the expression “Buddha said…” The reason that I am writing this, has to do with how we approach the texts as experiential inquirers. It’s not a mere academic point.

When I say, ‘Nikāyas’ I am referring to the five Buddhist volumes called the ‘Discourses,’ which were written down in a language which we call Pāli, approximately 450 years after the death of the historical Gotama Buddha.

They are important examples of the very earliest Buddhsit texts, because they claim to contain the teachings of the historical Buddha.

The Nikāyas might well present the core teachings attributed to that historical person. According to some scholars (such as UK scholar Richard Gombrich), they come within an acceptable range of doing so.

His name was (if we accept that he was an actual historical person) Siddhartha; and his clan name Gotama. The period in which he is said to have lived was mostly an oral culture, though; and these Nikāyas were passed on orally for several generations after his death, before they were put into written form probably at some time in the first century BCE.

Most of us are used to reading and hearing ‘The Buddha said…,” as though the speaker was making a statement of historical fact, but this is an oversimplification, which is used to propagate the speaker’s interpretation, usually.

Although scholars use the phrase ‘historical Buddha,’ no-one can actually know precisely how accurate the portrayal in the Nikāyas might be. It’s reasonable to assume this powerful and perceptive teaching arose because there was a particular individual in a particular milieu, but we have only the Nikāyas as evidence (and the Chinese Agamas, which are very similar); and, as I said, they didn’t come into existence (as written texts) until some time in the first century CE. So,what the scholars look for is consistency of the core elements.

(By the way, it is thought by some scholars that – contrary to popular expectation – oral traditions do very well in preserving these kinds of ‘texts.’)

Let’s assume that they at least get in the ballpark on certain features of the original teachings – particularly, regarding the core matters such as: the characteristics of phenomena, the certainty of liberation from limited understanding of reality (i.e. the deathless or nibbāna). The four ennobling realities are usually included as core, and for our purposes we will consider them so (though this one been challenged in recent times).

And, to complicate the matter further, there are Buddhist cultures where the monks and nuns have never read the Pali Nikāyas, having been trained using texts written many hundreds of years later. These later texts – Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Chinese texts – according to the conventions of those cultures, put their teachings into the mouth of the ‘Buddha’ of these later texts.

So, with that move, the range of unreliability to “Buddha said” is amplified greatly, beyond what it would be if we restricted ourselves to the era in Indian history covering five hundred years after the historical Buddha’s birth (probably somewhere in the fifth century BCE). And, the speakers – for example, in the Tibetan schools – genuinely believe that those teachings are the word of ‘the Buddha’; when in fact these texts are the result of much later cultures.

This doesn’t mean that they don’t have wisdom, or don’t carry forward the spirit and message of the original founder. They often do, in my opinion. But its definitely as stretch for a person of Western historically-oriented culture to say, “Buddha said…” in respect of the majority of those later texts.

So, as far as I see it: the ‘Buddha of the Nikāyas’ speaks from the 5^th century BCE; the ‘Buddha Lankavatara Sutra’ speaks from the late 4^th century CE. The Diamond Sutra is difficult to place, but let’s say that the ‘Buddha of the Diamond Sutra’ speaks from somewhere between the the Nikāyas and the Lankavatara Sutra.

And, there are more – the Uttaratantra Buddha, and the Surangama Sutra Buddha, for example; both obviously much, much later than the Buddha of the Nikāyas (who is often referred to as the historical Buddha, or the Shakyamuni Buddha).

So, what I have decided to do, is to dialogue with the textual traditions. So, then I can refer to the Nikāya Buddha, the Lankavatara Buddha, the Diamond Sutra Buddha, the Surangama Buddha, and so on; and my reader will not be confused about my Buddha.

I learnt a lot from my dialogue with the Lankavatara Buddha in the early seventies, and from the Surangama Buddha and the Diamond Sutra Buddha in the mid-seventies! And my learning with the Nikāya Buddha has spanned all my Buddhist life.

One reason why I chose this way of speaking, apart from the problems outlined above, is that I noticed that I would use “Buddha said…” to claim legitimacy for my views, whether the view was soundly based in experience, or not. I was using the name of the Buddha to bolster my arguments. This is a kind of seduction, and so, upon discovering this, I abandoned the practice.

Now, instead, I might say: “This is how I’ve understood the teachings; and, these are the set of texts which I hold up against my experience, to see if they can carry forward my life.” That’s why I talk, mostly, about the Nikāya Buddha, because I mainly use those texts. I dialogue with the texts, and don’t claim to know what the historical Buddha said, thought or taught. That would not be a legitimate way for me to speak.

One further issue is whether my experience validates the texts, or the texts validate my experience. I would say it is always the former. In respect of the latter, the texts may agree with my experience, or they question my experience (which I am often grateful for); but they can only validate my experience if I bestow some authority on them which I can’t prove they have. That’s called blind faith, I believe.

Anyhow, I think that would be an abdication of my responsibility, if I granted them that power. After all, the Nikāya Buddha has said, in the Devasamyutta section, of the Samyutta Nikāya:

“A person should not give himself away. He should not relinquish himself.” And, in several Nikāya texts upholds the importance of testing teachings against our own experience.

Nevertheless, my learner’s move is to grant them a provisional authority, and see in what direction my experiences change with that.

______________

Anathapindika is Dying

By admin

On June 12, 2016

In Death, Enquiry, General, Meditation, Mindfulness, Positivity, Practices

Anāthapiṇḍika, for forty-two years a dedicated lay student of the Nikāya Buddha, is dying. Anāthapiṇḍika has been, all this time, a rich merchant in the royal town of Sāvatthi, in the Kingdom of Kosala.

If you are familiar with the Nikāya texts, you will recognise his name, because many suttas open with these words: “I have heard that one time the flourishing one was staying at Sāvatthi, in Jeta’s grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery…” The monastery land was a gift to the Buddha and his community, from Anāthapiṇḍika, with some help from Prince Jeta.

Sāvatthi is a place where the Nikāya Buddha spends a lot of time. At this stage in his career, the Buddha stays here every year at Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery, during the rainy season.

The Nikāya Buddha’s teaching career spans forty-five years, and Anāthapiṇḍika has been a student of the flourishing one, for almost all that time. It is now very late in the Buddha’s life; and very late in the life of Sariputta, the Nikāya Buddha’s chief student, who will come to guide Anāthapiṇḍika in a practice for the dying.

Unlike us, Anāthapiṇḍika doesn’t have pain management. He’s doing it tough; using whatever mind-skills he has to remain calm and collected. He knows he’s dying, and now he sends a friend to the Buddha, to let him know of this fact, and so to pay his last homage to the teacher. The friend will place his head at the Buddha’s feet, in Anāthapiṇḍika’s name.

It has been a tradition for centuries, in Buddhism, that when a person is dying, they invite into their heart the ‘thought’ or ‘feel’ of the presence of a being of wisdom – their main teacher, usually, or some other great being. Anāthapiṇḍika thinks of the Nikāya Buddha at this point, and so that is the man’s first point of call.

Anāthapiṇḍika, though, has had a close relationship with Sariputta – the mendicant called ‘the Marshall.’ So, through his proxy, Anāthapiṇḍika not only pays homage to Sariputta, but he requests that Sariputta might come, out of compassion, to the deathbed. The layman Anāthapiṇḍika seeks outward support for his dying process.

Ānanda, the Nikāya Buddha’s attendant, an old man himself – the same age as the Buddha – attends upon Sariputta. Ānanda, too, has love for Anāthapiṇḍika, and naturally wants to be by the layman’s side at this important time.

They arrive and are shown into the room, where seating has been prepared for them. They are invited to sit, and greetings are exchanged. Then Sariputta asks, “How is it? Are the pains any better? I hope you are comfortable.”

“No, no better, Sir. The pains are much worse. I’m not recovering. Violent winds cut through my head and my belly, like a sword. It’s as though a butcher were carving me up.” He smiles slightly at the simile. The Awakened One uses this butcher simile in the Mindfulness Sutta. “And, I feel like I’m being roasted over a fire. I’m not getting well.”

Sariputta is silent for a while. Ānanda feels that something fresh is happening. Then, Sariputta – knowing Anāthapiṇḍika as he does; the layman’s sincerity, his decency, his love of truth – Sariputta chooses to offer an unusual support, in the form of a meditation on emptiness.

The Nikāya Buddha’s deepest teachings – those on emptiness – are not usually shared with householders. They are for mendicants. If a layperson asks for such teachings, then, these teachings are shared, providing the petitioner is deemed ready for such.

Mostly, lay people just want to know where they’ll be reborn – hopefully it’ll be a good destination – and what to do to get a good rebirth. They are usually directed to their ethical base – basically, to take good care of themselves and others. And, to take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

But Sariputta is no ordinary master of practice. It has long been his special responsibility, in the Buddha’s community, to guide practitioners into stream-entry, to help them know the luminous ground of their own mind in, and as, the stream of life.

Now, out of his insight and his care for Anāthapiṇḍika, he guides the layman through a titrated process of a transcendent kind, the result of which is that Anāthapiṇḍika knows an inconceivable beauty hitherto unknown to him.

Six Worthwhile Insights

By admin

On June 11, 2016

In Body, Death, Enquiry, Meditation, Mindfulness, Positivity, Practices

The Story of The Death of Dīghāvu.

There was a time when the fully awakened Buddha, the flourishing one, was staying at Rājagaha in the Bamboo Grove, the Squirrel Sanctuary.

At the time, a young lay follower Dīghāvu was dying, and his father Jotika was grieving. Dīghāvu said to his father, “Please, go to the Flourishing One, and paying respects in my name, with your head at his feet, tell him what is happening. Ask him to please visit, out of compassion.”

“Certainly, Dear One,” the father said. He went to the Buddha, and made Dīghāvu’s request; to which the flourishing one consented. He arose and, taking his bowl and robe, went without delay.

And, coming to the young man’s bedside, he said, “I hope that you are getting well, Dīghāvu; that your pains are subsiding, not increasing.”

“It’s not good, Sir. I’m aware that they are, in fact, increasing, not subsiding.”

“Well, if that’s the case, Dīghāvu, I suggest that you be resolute in these four things: ‘I will be firmly confident in the Awakened One, as the teacher of devas and humans; and in the Dhamma of the noble ones; and, in the Sangha. And, I will be firm in my ethical grounding, dear to all noble ones, and that will help my concentration. Train yourself this way.”

He spoke thus, unaware that Dīghāvu was already a stream-entrant, and so was unshakably possessed of confidence in these four supports. “Thank you, Sir. However, I have no doubt about these things – they surely live in me, and support me.”

“In that case, Dīghāvu: having entered the stream, I suggest that you pay attention to these six true perceptions about experience. Look into the transitoriness of everything; perceive the non-satisfactoriness in what is transient; and, perceive that there is no self-substance in anything. Perceive relinquishment occurring; and, fading away occurring; and, cessation. This is the way to train.”

“Sir, thank you. However, I am also well established in those six perceptions. I am, indeed, deeply supported by them. My difficulty, though, is that this thought occurs to me: My father Jotika will be distressed upon my death.”

With this, Jotika said, “Now is not the time, dear Dīghāvu. At this point, don’t concern yourself about that. Rouse yourself, and follow closely what the Flourishing One is saying, dear Dīghāvu.”

With that, the Flourishing One, having shared what he could with Dīghāvu, rose from his seat, and went. After he left, Dīghāvu died.

The Buddha later told his mendicant followers, in response to their questions, “Dīghāvu was a seer. He practised the Dhamma well, and didn’t bother me with anything. He just got on with it. He has done well. Having gone to a higher birth, he will realise nirvana from there.”

(Based on the Dīghāvu Sutta in the Sotāpattisaṃyutta, Samyutta Nikāya. Text X,3(3) in Bodhi’s translation.)

Insight into What?

By admin

On June 10, 2016

In Death, Enquiry, Mindfulness, Positivity, Practices

When it comes to dying and death, the Nikāya Buddha does not give primary emphasis to rebirth theory. His emphasis is on being mindful, being awake to experience; that is, his advice is to live and die not clinging to anything – to live in accordance with the truth of the deathless. Hence, his advice is to die as you have lived, if you are a serious practitioner of the yoga of happiness (the Brahma-faring).

He clearly accepts the possibility of rebirth, but rebirth applies only to the degree that you have not understood life. Understanding life is the core of the Nikāya Buddha’s teaching.

To ordinary people the advice has this flavour: if you are a sensible person and take care of your ethical life, you will take rebirth in accordance with the quality of the intentions behind your actions of body, speech and mind.

However, this message does not feature most prominently in the Nikāyas, which throughout history, have mainly served the Buddhist mendicants. So, we are bringing into focus, here, his advice to serious people; people who want to go deep, and to make a contribution to the welfare of all. That is, we are concentrating in this project, on his advice to people who wish to live in accordance with the truth of the deathless.

What does it mean to live in accordance with the truth of the deathless? How does the Nikāya Buddha experience the words ‘life’ and ‘death’? We begin from here. Because, if you understand life, if there is insight, there is no birth or death.

When I first met the word ‘insight’ I thought it meant to see with an inner eye. It turns out that this wasn’t far off the mark. The Oxford English Dictionary comments: “The original notion appears to have been ‘internal sight’, i.e. with the eyes of the mind or understanding.” How lovely is that?! Though, personally, I find ‘seeing with the heart of understanding’ more helpful.

In the Buddha-dharma there has always been the notion of seeing with the ‘Dharma-eye,’ which conveys a fresh and complete vision of ‘things as they are.’ It is said of Kondañña, the first person to whom the Nikāya Buddha is able to transmit his new understanding, that “with this instruction, the stainless, dust-free vision arose in Kondañña.”

The emphasis on sight is, of course, metaphorical. It has long been the way of Indian philosophy to use ‘sight’ as a metaphor for this way of being. Similarly, in Greek philosophy. And, as always, if we have something worthwhile saying, our metaphors, though helpful, will fall short. But, what can we say about this ‘understanding with the heart’? We can know that it is, above all, a cessation of our habitual view-making.

The normal view of life is that there is arising and ceasing. Things naturally come from somewhere, and go somewhere, don’t they? And, what arises ceases at some time after the arising. This conventional view depends on seriality. However, Kondañña stops depending on that view, and his exclamation at the time was: “What is arising is ceasing!’

Something in the experiments which the Nikāya Buddha puts his friends through, in the Deer Park, near Benares, works to bring Kondañña to a cessation – a letting go at the root of the mind. He lets go of depending on the manifest dimension – the sensory-mental – for his foundation. No doubt, with the insight into the limitations of his established views of life, he gives up fabricating his life; gives up aligning his identity with the frustrating ‘constructed’ dimension called birth and death.

Reclaiming the Knowing Body

By admin

On June 9, 2016

In Body, Enquiry, Mindfulness, Practices

“For [Zen master] Dogen’s part, his Zen shifts attention from the simple interior state of mind to all the realities of the self and universe – the anthropo-cosmic totality – that are precisely what he means by the ‘body-mind.’ In other words, meditation is not so much a retreat from the external world as it is an opening up of the body-mind to the mystery of the inner and outer world and beyond.” Hee Jin-Kim,- Dogen on Meditation and Thinking: A Reflection on His View of Zen

Most people think that their ‘mind’ is more valuable than their ‘body.’ This accompanies a significant bias in us. That is, that we are a mind (a consciousness or a soul) in a body. So, giving preference to what we think is more valuable, we create cultures dedicated to the mind’s existence, assuming the superiority of ‘mind’ over ‘body.’ But, who says the mind is different to the body; and, who, other than mind, says that mind is more important than the body?

We are locked into a view create by thinking-mind; and, while it is mind which sets the criteria for the inquiry, we have no way of assessing its claim. Thought limits the discovery of the body’s intelligence. Meditation, then, gets to be all about ‘thoughts,’ and the body becomes just what you put on the cushion, before you get on with mind cultivation. Ironically, meditation is then made into a very slow process of disabusing oneself of that very duality, and its displacement of value.

In this project, ‘mind’ and ‘body’ are names for kinds of experiences. If we consider the words ‘body’ and ‘mind’ (and ‘self’) as being conventions indicating viewpoints on our experienced world, then they needn’t by ‘symbolic’ of something that you think is ‘really and ultimately there’ – things.

What if we approach speaking (and thinking) as how the big life process – ‘This’ – communicates itself in us (in speaking) and to us (in listening)? Can you sense how this changes your process of reading what I am writing?

‘This’ – with its implicit fullness, and all its possibilities – is finding a way of carrying itself forward through these words. Their meaning is in how they change me and you – me in the writing of them, and you in the reading of them. The meaning of these words, right here, is in our sentient process, not in the dictionary.

Practice: When next having a significant conversation with someone, reserve between 5-10% of your attention for tracking how the process of saying and the process of hearing hearing changes you and the other person. When you notice bodily changes due to speaking and hearing, give the changes an opportunity to make their way into the conversation. (Just feeling them might be enough, but speaking them out loud could also contribute something radical.) How does this change the relationship? Does it change your sense of possibilities? Or, the other person’s sense of the possibilities?

Practice: Pick a day a week, and in all your conversations for that day, reverse the ‘thinking-mind’ bias, by participating in all conversations as though it really were true that language is something that bodies do. (You might need to make a mark on your hand, to remind yourself, during the day.) How does this re-orientation change the quality of your communication? What does it do to your normal identifications?

With such experiments we are opening ourselves up to a mysterious dimension of our life, which is the flow of ‘This.’ A dimension of utter openness may present itself. It may even feel like a zero-point quality.

Don’t be worried if it feels a little spooky, at first – that is usually because the ego-mind has gotten used to dictating the terms on which ‘you can be you,’ and the ‘world can be the world.’ The thinking mind has called the shots on how the big ‘This’ is allowed to be ‘This.’

If that feels far-fetched – consider the last time something went ‘wrong.’ When you tripped over, for instance. Or, when you spilt your lunch in your lap. When your car’s fender got a slight dent, in the underground parking lot.

You might notice that the thinking mind is saying something like, ‘This shouldn’t happen.’ Or, ‘This is not happening.’ And so on. It likes to say what should and shouldn’t happen in life. But, there you are lying on the floor, where a moment ago you were standing. There you are with tomato on your lap. You don’t need such ‘shouldn’t have happened to me’ thoughts. You need precise care, at that moment.

So, in our combodied mindful, awareness context, we can note that mind has decided that ‘body’ is what mind says it is; and, in particular, that thinking says that body is the house or vehicle for the mind. And, we can ask, “What’s the evidence?”

“Somehow we need to awaken to the urgency of our situation. Each day and each hour we are confirming limits that exist only because we confirm them. We are stepping into the same prison cell, refusing to pick up the key that could unlock the prison gates.” – Tarthang Tulku, Visions of Knowledge.

Vows Supporting Mindfulness

By admin

On June 6, 2016

In Mindfulness, Poetry, Practices

When talk gets too philosophical I vow together with all beings
to recall the challenge of the Buddha: ‘What is life? What is death? What is this?’
– Robert Aitken Roshi.

There are several outcomes of saying a gatha such as this one from Robert Aitken Roshi’s The Dragon Who Never Sleeps: Firstly, it is a mindfulness practice, and so it ensures that one directs one’s heart to present-moment recollection. Abandoning greed, hatred and ignorance endlessly, so as to be present for the great matters of life, is nothing but mindfulness. Secondly, such gathas remind us of the depth and universality of the purpose of this practice. Furthermore, they invoke interdependence.

I have been thinking how important in my own life vows have been. Since about 1975 I have made a making a practice of the Bodhisattva vows, and the thought of the welfare of all others has been a source of strength, kindness, and inspiration. From time to time in my groups, I do a little kinesiology-derived muscle test to demonstrate that a person has more strength when they do their inner work for all beings than if they do it for themselves alone.

The four Bodhisattva vows themselves are reminders that the universe is not logical. They are aspirations of that Flesh which exceeds the flesh. In Zen they are:

The many beings are numberless – I vow to save them.
Greed, hatred and ignorance rise endlessly – I vow to abandon them.
Dharma gates are countless – I vow to wake to them.
The Buddha’s way is unsurpassed – I vow to combody it fully.

Thinking about this last one, I am grateful to Akira Ikemi for his concept of combodiment. It directly says the truth of everything in everything timelessly – that is, of interdependence. The Buddha’s way and our very human body are not two.
Due to this lack of separation – or, if you like, interaction first – to directly realise interdependence is to save all beings. And, taking a conventional view of relationship at the same time, I vow also to give my energy to the collective 2000-year project of bringing peace to our planet.

There is no event anywhere that is not reflecting the sacred dance. The smallest flea on my friend’s carpet is a Dharma gate. This illness, today, is a Dharma gate. One who sees dependent origination sees the Dhamma. (Majjhima Nikāya 28) The NIkāya Buddha says:
“He who sees Dhamma, Vakkali, sees me; he who sees me sees Dhamma. Truly seeing Dhamma, one sees me; seeing me one sees Dhamma.”
– Vakkali Sutta. Translated by Maurice O’Connell Walshe,

The wonderful thing about the Bodhisattva vows is that they catapult one deeper than logic and into intimate connection with the measureless beauty and peace of life as it actually is.
When people talk about war, I vow with all beings to raise my voice in the chorus and speak of original piece.
– Robert Aitken, The Dragon Who Never Sleeps: Verses For Zen Buddhist Practice.

Freedom Through Hearing

By admin

On June 4, 2016

In General

The following is a very pithy statement from the Nikāya Buddha about the causes of human dysfunction: “There is a greed that fixes on the individual body-mind. When that greed has completely gone, then, [Dear Person], there will be no more inner poison-drives, without which you are immune from death.”

– Sutta Nipāta (verse 1100). Translated by Bhikkhu Saddhatissa.

This fixating on our individual body-mind – also called egocentricity; and ‘everyday narcissism’ – distorts our recognition of the continual flow of behaviour possibilities available to the individual person in dynamic relationship. ‘Waking up’ practices accustom us to dissolving this fixation. I teach mindfulness, meditation and Focusing; but there are others, depending on your tradition – for example, the 112 practices of the Vigyan Bhairav; or, Centering Prayer, if you’re a Christian.

The senses (because they don’t lie) are a good introduction to our immeasurable depth. Lying awake at night, riding the bus or subway, in a crowded bar, in the mad office, walking in nature: for hearing folk, there is the door of hearing. Here’s an exercise from Tarthang Tulku’s Love of Knowledge (p. 255).

Observing Hearing (Exercise Thirty)

[While] focusing on sounds expand awareness to include yourself as the one who is hearing the sound. Include, as well, awareness of the ‘process’ of hearing. This practice makes the energy within sound more available to knowledge, allowing greater clarity.

Mindfulness for Transcendence

By admin

On June 3, 2016

In Death, Enquiry, Mindfulness, Positivity, Practices

In the Samyutta Nikāya, a radiant god (a devata) asks:
“What is the source of light in the world?
What in the world is the wakeful one?
And the Nikāya Buddha says:
“Wisdom is the source of light in the world;
Mindfulness, in the world, is the wakeful one;
– Translated by Bhikkhu Bodhi.

Mindfulness is very popular right now; or, at least, a kind of mindfulness is very popular. There’s talk of the U.S. under-going a ‘mindfulness revolution.’ So, how is mindfulness presented in the new market? Its message might well be represented by Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction originator Jon Kabat-Zinn: “paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and nonjudgmentally.” (1994)

The key to the flexibility of this definition lies in the phrase “on purpose.” In other words, what kind of mindfulness you cultivate depends on your purpose. Most of the industry-oriented books which I have read or perused, however – and sadly some Buddhist books, too – define mindfulness much more superficially as: “being present,” “staying in this moment,” “becoming aware of what’s going on around you or within you,” and “being in the here and now.” (These quotes are from Mindfulness for Borderline Personality Disorder, by Aguirre & Galen.)

Of course, being in the present is certainly a part of mindfulness – obviously. However, the “on purpose” part of the definition, introduces an important element, giving room for an approach to mindfulness which includes its role in the discovery of the deathless element.

Because mindfulness is being used in (and sold) in many fields, I’m going to simplify my presentation and call the ‘staying in this moment’ kind of mindfulness “non-transcendence mindfulness.” That probably needs an essay to justify itself, but I’ll say simply: the mindfulness taught by the Nikāya Buddha upends the normal model of reality.

The popular, modern version, of course, doesn’t do that, and isn’t meant to do that. It’s marketed as stress reduction, and as self-improvement. The Buddhist version is meant to take you deeper into experiencing yourself as a ‘world’ within the world,’ and thence into a deeper understanding of reality itself.

The deepening of mindfulness follows a pattern, discernible after years of practice. The early phases of this development of Buddhist mindfulness do, in fact, parallel the therapeutic uses of non-transcendence mindfulness. (I can’t say about sporting use, business use, or other self-improvement uses of mindfulness). The following phases of development apply to both Buddhist mindfulness and to therapeutic mindfulness. We could think of the development of mindfulness as having three levels:

1. A person practising mindfulness begins to see that there is a relationship between emotion, thought, and action. As a result, it’s easier to moderate their behaviour. For example, your partner says something insensitive, and you see certain thought patterns and certain feelings arising. You recognise them (from mindfulness practice) as reactivity. So, you learn to leave the room rather than insult your partner. Pretty basic.

2. After this phase there is a phase where you can actually stay with the interactions, to watch your mind and learn what the mind does in such situations. In our instance, you might stay put, feeling into how uncomfortable your partner’s behaviour makes you feel. Then, having learnt to breathe your way through the situation, and so to calm yourself, you initiate a more respectful interaction than usual: “When you say that, it hurts. It reminds me of my childhood.”

If this second phase is allowed to go deeper, then troublesome conditioned states of mind can be worked with, to the extent of reshaping personality patterns, which came from the interactions in your family of origin. This is a major achievement. I’m a pretty deeply wounded person, and can say I have experienced these two phases intimately.

It seems to me that the non-trascendence mindfulness (in therapeutic contexts) and Buddhist mindfulness can have these two phases in common. I also think, from my teaching experience, that many Buddhists only want to go this far. Most people want a better life, not one that is turned inside out by the next phase. The next phase is not taught by the non-trascendence mindfulness teachers.

3. As an introduction to the last and less common phase, I’ll say: From childhood, we – all cultures – are thoroughly inducted into a trance state, the cultural norms, which leaves us believing that we live in serial time, and in Euclidian space. These are constructions, derived from an experience more open, yet we have been taught to think about our life in this way.

So, our self-knowledge has become distorted by dualistic models of the universe. On this basis, we think that perceptions present reality, and that the world is made up of ‘things’ (entities). In the Buddhist mindfulness we investigate whether these assumptions are valid, or not. Consistent com-bodied meditation particularly opens up this level.

This level of mindfulness is radically transformative, because we address the species conditioning. Here we inquire into the nature of perception itself, and learn to dis-identify with our egocentricity, and then to cease identifying with the ego altogether.

Here, we aren’t so interested in the translation of personality (nama-rupa: name and form) into something more comfortable; instead we are interested in investigating our experience to the point of ceasing to identify with our personality – to cut the cause of dukkha (which means broadly speaking, the cause of suffering) at the root. This means, too, that our experience of space, time, knowledge, and language are all transformed. Only then can death be a sacrament.

In the Samyutta Nikāya, a devata asks:
“What has weighted down everything?
What is most extensive?
What is the one thing that has
All under its control?”
And the Nikāya Buddha responds:
“Name has weighed down everything;
Nothing is more extensive than name.
Name is one thing that has
All under its control.”
– Translated by Bhikkhu Bodhi.