Shunyata and Love

Shunyata (often translated as emptiness) is at the heart of experiencing reality as it is. Anyone who's been in the position to taste the unsurpassed flavor of freedom had actually been in intimate touch with shunyata at that moment. And that moment is, of course, timeless.

From the phenomenological perspective, that is, from the perspective of attempting to describe the indescribable experience of shunyata, one can only say that there is an unmistakable realization that all the everyday things and concepts are unreal. Everything that we cherish and everything that we feel brings meaning to our lives is perceived as false and irrelevant once we experience enlightenment by getting in touch with shunyata.

What then tends to be rather confusing to the innocent bystanders, who may become aware that someone in their community has experienced liberation, is why is it that liberation invariably brings love? Why is it that, once someone realizes how utterly futile all human hopes and dreams are, all that's left for that person to feel is love? Why not feel hate instead of love, or feel anger, or cynicism, or any other arbitrary emotion?

The reason is very simple: love is the most immediate manifestation of intimacy. When a person experiences liberation, enlightenment, shunyata, what becomes immediately apparent is how intimate every apparition, every manifested as well as every unmanifested phenomenon is. All separation is gone, disappeared in the same way the night disappears with the light of dawn. And all that is left is absence of separation, absence of anxiety, absence of vexation. In other words, love.

The above description may be naive and simplistic, but it is nevertheless true.

It's Not About You

My mother died ten days ago. When I heard the news, my first reaction was a friendly welcome. A feeling of welcoming a very dear friend.

Now, that reaction may strike you as being completely odd, even inappropriate. You may be now wondering: "Alex, where is the sadness and the sorrow that every living human being must feel upon learning that their mother passed away?" Here is why I think my knee-jerk feeling of sadness was almost instantaneously replaced by the feeling of embracing a new, long awaited friend:

It's not because I didn't love my mother, or because I wasn't close to her, or because we had unresolved issues. No, I've been close to my mother my entire life, and we cared for and deeply loved each other. It's also not the case of witnessing someone suffering long and unbearable illness, and wishing for a swift mercy death. No, my mother was healthy, in good spirits. She died suddenly, from a heart attack (even though she was only 74 years old).

But an event as significant as my mother's death revealed something to me that was a lesson worth learning. Instead of taking this sad event as the tragedy that unexpectedly happened to me, I was blessed with the insight that could be summed in the following sentence: "It's not about you, it's about her!"

There is an enormous feeling of liberation whenever we manage to leave the world of personal convenience and neglect our puny egomaniacal concerns, and place our selves in other people's position. My mother's dying instantly put me into that position. All I was concerned with was her own situation, not mine.

This feeling helped me tremendously in solidifying my own convictions that self is irrelevant, and that the meaning of life can only be found in seeing through the falsity that is masquerading as self, or ego. This is why I consider my mother's death as her gift to me. She gave me the gift of life, she gave me the gift of teaching me how to survive, and now she gave me the final gift -- the gift of knowing how to die.

So, no matter what happens, it really helps if you carry with you a strong insight that it's never about you. You, as a separate being, are irrelevant. If you can clearly see that, then there will be no more obstacles to stop you in releasing your lion's roar of liberation!

Theory About Theories

To live a human life is to be engrossed in the ocean of theories. For example, right now you are engaged in this theory of reading someone's blog post. Later on, you may be dealing with another theory, the one that states that you are drinking a cup of coffee. And so on.

The trouble is, we take all these theories for granted. We take any theoretical proposition, such as that the earth is flat, or that the earth is round, or that the light consists of waves of energy, or that it consists of a stream of particles, or both, or neither, etc., and then believe it to be the absolute truth. Despite the fact that most of us have been forewarned, either by our religious and spiritual teacher, or by our scientists, that the nature of the evidence is at best very suspect, we still continue to disregard these advices.

So why do theories keep surfacing? The mind incessantly weaves patterns of activities, which are very deeply based on our intentions, seated at the core of our consciousness. It is a gross mistake to take those patterns as representing something real, something substantial. Better to recognize them as theories.

This is why Socrates exclaimed that unexamined life is not worth living. Basically, as we go down our chosen path in life, it is our responsibility not to leave any stone unturned.

What is a Theory?

Yes, but what exactly is a theory? According to Karl Popper, one of the leading thinkers in the 20th century philosophy, a theory is a falsifiable hypothesis.

For example, Newton's theoretical attempts at explaining how the reality works are valid theories, because they are falsifiable -- there is a conceivable set of circumstances that could falsify his claims (this actually did happen with Einstein's introduction of the Theory of Relativity, which completely falsifies Newton's view of the universe).

On the other hand, Freud's hypothesis that lead to the formulation of Psychoanalysis does not qualify as being a proper theory, because it is not falsifiable. In other words, one cannot imagine a set of circumstances that could disprove Freud's claims that a person's psyche is completely determined by the events that occurred during that person's early childhood.

What is a Theory About Theories?

A 'theory about theories' is simply just another word for 'Buddhist practice'. Our practice is nothing else but one continuous awareness about theories.

Through cultivating this awareness that each and every pattern emanating from our minds could be viewed as a theory, and is thus falsifiable, we cultivate pure and complete liberation. Only a person who is constantly aware of the theories surrounding each and every activity around us, can taste the unsurpassed sweetness of total liberation.

This culture of 'theory about theories' is the ultimate knowledge about the impossibility of knowing anything. As such, it is utterly liberating. Nothing ever gets spared from its penetrating gaze.

For example, I have undergone, through my intense Buddhist practice, the experience of enlightenment. I can pinpoint the exact place in space and time where this all encompassing and obliterating experience occurred. I have indeed experienced that state which people refer to as satori, or nirvana, the everlasting and the most profound peace.

But all along I'm perfectly aware that this experience is just a theory. I don't view it as being something real, something substantial. It is just another in the series of experiences that need to be examined. It is just another of the theories that need to be subsumed in our practice of 'theories about theories'.

Why is this practice so powerful, so as to surpass even the highest achievements of the divine celestial beings? The reason is simple -- 'theory about theories' has the power to short-circuit any attempts at the runaway escalation of the meta levels. Simply put, even though it is possible to have a theory about theories, it would be impossible to have a theory about a theory about theories, and so on.

Any such attempt immediately collapses to the one and only 'theory about theories'.

All Events are Created Equal

Human beings are born into the world of duality. Is/isn't, up/down, left/right, before/after. Also, agreeable/disagreeable. And so on.

Because of that, the events that arise in our lives get to be treated in the same dualistic way. Meaning, each event gets evaluated according to some set of criteria. Thus, this event may be perceived as being desirable, that event as being undesirable, and so on. This process of evaluation never ends.

Buddhists and Events

If a person engages in the Buddhist practice, and if he perseveres, there comes a time when the events in that person's life begin to gain certain uniformity. It is quite difficult to explain what this uniformity is about, or how does it feel like, but the thing is that the ups and downs from the non-Buddhist life now tend to smooth out a bit.

There comes a point where you realize that all events are created equal. If you then persevere and keep going, you will get to the point where you can almost plainly see that it's how everything is. No event is better or more precious than any other event. And vice versa -- no event is to be avoided, to be shoved under the rug.

Events, the way we perceive them, are what reality is. It is our life. Buddhist practitioners are peculiar because they have given up coping with life. They realize that they are the life, and that it would be therefore impossible to cope with something that you already are.

Fear of the Known

"I can’t understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I’m frightened of the old ones." -John Cage

Fear is the first cousin of ignorance. In Buddhism, ignorance (avidya) is the Primus Movens of all human suffering. To abandon suffering one must abandon ignorance. And to abandon ignorance, one must go through its first cousin -- fear -- and figure out how to deal with it (i.e. fear).

But the question is: fear of what? The knee-jerk common wisdom answer is: fear of the unknown. People seem to be afraid of the unknown.

Now, if we stop and think about it, is that really how things are? Are we really afraid of the unknown? I mean, the unknown is just that -- unknown. Not being known, or knowable, what is there to be afraid of?

On the other hand, there are countless known things that we have pretty solid reasons to be afraid of. Such as the known possibility of getting very sick, getting injured, and of course, the fear of a very well known thing -- death and dying.

That's why John Cage said that he is afraid of the old ideas. He is afraid of the things that are already known. And he is afraid of them because he knows how horrible those known things are.

Something new and still unknown could actually be good. No need to be afraid of it yet, until we see what's it actually shaping up to be.

So realizing this, Buddhist practitioners work on dealing with the known fears. One of the known fears is that you may lose a much loved someone, or something. How are you going to cope with that fear?

To Take It or Not to Take It Personally?

Buddhist practice is solely concerned with human condition. And the most prevalent characteristic of human condition is that we tend to take events that happen to us very personally.

This is the cause for many a suffering. Being extremely sensitive personally is not a fun way to go through life.

So what do Buddhist practitioners do to get out of that hole? They basically have a choice of two courses of action:

1. Don't take things that concern them personally
2. Take those things personally, but in addition, take everything else that occurs personally as well

In truth, both the above courses of action boil down to the same thing. If a practitioner choses the 'don't take it personally' path, that will liberate him from the bondage of being confined inside the prison of his body and mind. But if another practitioner takes another recommended course of action and starts taking everything personally, he will also be completely liberated from the prison. By taking onto himself all the other people's travails, he will become fully aware of the self, an will consequently forget all about the self.

Thus, he will be freed.

Spiritual Pharmacology

It would be ludicrous to expect any person to voluntarily sign his or her own death warrant. And yet, that's what true Buddhist practice expects from us.

Of course, no one is ever going to do such a thing, and consequently we have this Buddhist practice that is put in place in order to slowly 'cook us' and prepare us for signing the much dreaded death warrant. In that respect, the Buddhist practice must be a bit sneaky, so that it can slowly and imperceptibly creep up on us and deliver the final blow when we least expect it.

Cycles

According to the Buddhist way of thinking, everything is subject to cycles. When it comes to issues concerning the human predicament, these cycles appear to be determined by the particular quality of mind each individual brings into the game. For example, one observes people who are subjected to extremely short cycles. Such people can typically be found among acute addicts, such as gamblers or drug and alcohol addicts, violence addicts, etc.

Upon observing the behavior of such short-cycle bound people, one cannot help but be forced to conclude that such people are extremely selfish. For example, a serious gambler, when finding himself in a pickle, would think nothing of selling his own family's future just to have another go at it. In his mind, life is absolutely not worth living unless his selfish desire to go for a ride (meaning, to bet his money on a particular horse, for example) gets to be instantly fulfilled.

Similar observations and conclusions can be made about the drug addicts, for example. A typical crack-head or a heroin addict sees nothing, knows nothing when it comes to getting the next fix. The cycles that govern his existence are extremely short, and the selfishness resulting from such short cycles is extremely pronounced. It would be difficult to find more selfish people than among those who are ensnared by the extremely short and tight cycles.

Moving away from such extreme cases, we find regular, everyday folk who appear free from being enslaved from such short cycles. Instead of being governed by the cycles that keep rearing their ugly head every 20 minutes or so, common workaday folk are more enslaved by the longer cycles that could usually be described as 'from paycheck to paycheck'. It should not come as a big surprise to learn that most people today live their lives from paycheck to paycheck, consequently finding themselves ensnared by the weekly or biweekly cycles. Most of these people do not and cannot see anything beyond this one or two weeks horizon. And consequently, their mindset is also quite narrow.

Not nearly as narrow as the mindset of a serious gambler or a crack-head, of course, but nevertheless quite narrow. A person who cannot see beyond the two week milestone cannot possibly be expected to be very broad-minded.

Broadening our horizons, we may find another group of people, the business people or proprietors, whose cycles tend to stretch beyond the two week horizon. Typically, business people view their world in terms of quarters (which coincide with the quarterly financial reports). Such businesses live and die based on their performance tied to a particular quarter.

If we then leave the narrow-minded world of addicts, paycheck winners and business people, we may encounter people whose cycles get to be longer thanks to tying their horizons to the cycles found in nature. This mostly pertains to the natural seasons. These seasons govern the lives of farmers, fishermen, hunters, gatherers, etc. These people have somewhat less selfish outlook on life, thanks to their somewhat broader view on life's cycles.

Finally, it is possible to get in touch with people who have managed to leave even the world of seasonal cycles, and to arrive at the outlook which encompasses their entire lifetime. These are the people who have withdrawn from everyday affairs to devote their lives to serving some supernatural force, such as god etc. They typically belong to some community of priesthood or something similar, and are serving a very specific role in the overall structure of the society.

These religious devotees gaze at a much longer, wider cycle than most of their fellow humans. The cycle they are focused on encompasses their entire lifetime. Thus, their mindset is much broader than the mindset of an average person, and their level of selfishness is usually much lesser than that of an average person. They view their entire life as a journey which will culminate with their death, at which point their actions and deeds will get evaluated by some higher, supernatural being, and they will get rewarded/punished accordingly. This faith influences the outlook these people may have on the cycles of existence.

All of the above examples deal with cycles of existence that vary in length. The length of these cycles depend on the horizon any given person is engaged in. The narrower the horizon, the shorter the cycle, and consequently the harsher the selfishness.

However, regardless of the respective length of the cycle one is engaged in, there is a limit to that cycle. And that limit is determined by the longevity of that person's identity. At the minimum, it is driven by the immediate selfish impulse, which the person engaged in the cycle cannot perceive in any other way but only as something of utmost urgency and importance. At the maximum, it cannot exceed that person's physical existence.

A notable exception to this worldview is the Buddhist view, which helps stretch those cycles even beyond the boundaries of the individual lifespan.

The Maker and the Making

According to the Buddhist teaching, it is not possible to have an action without an agent who would execute such an action. And conversely, it would not be possible to have an actor, or an agent, who doesn't do anything. Action and actor performing it define each other and cannot appear independently, in a similar way that we cannot have 'left' without having 'right' at the same time, nor can we have 'up' without having 'down' at the same time.

Furthermore, in the Buddhist world there are no coincidences. Unlike the scientific picture of the world, which treats pretty much every occurrence as a mere coincidence until it can be demonstrated that such occurrence complies with some elegant underlying theory, in the Buddhist world every occurrence happens for a very good reason. There are no capricious, whimsical events, nor are there any events that would be a handiwork of some supernatural being (such as god).

How do things happen according to the Buddhist teaching, then? Simply put, things are governed by the Law of Causality. Anything that happens must bear fruit. There is no possibility of an 'orphaned' event, that is to say, in the Buddhist world every event results from some other event. And furthermore, every event will result in some other event. So, the Buddhist Law of Causality portrays the world as being one enormous Matrix.

But where is the Primary Mover, then? Where is the event that put all this matrix in motion? In the Buddhist teaching, there isn't such a thing as a beginning. In other words, the world is beginningless.

The most important outcome of this teaching is its ethical, or moral component. Since nothing happens without a cause, it is impossible to wiggle out of this chain of cause-and-effect. Any deed, performed by an actor (or, a doer), must, according to this teaching, bear fruit. But the crucial teaching is that this fruit cannot be tasted by anyone else by the original doer. Thus, there simply is nowhere to hide in the Buddhist world. According to the Buddha's teaching, it would be impossible to cheat the system and to duck the responsibility.

Another important aspect of this teaching is the fact that it is impossible for someone else to taste or experience the fruits of our actions. This then guarantees the absolute fairness of such Buddhist universe, where everyone reaps whatever they sow.

The Buddhist Cycles

Buddhist practitioners live in the Buddhist universe, as described earlier. They know that anything that happens in their lives is caused by something they did previously. They also know that everything they do right now is going to bear fruit, and that fruit is going to be experienced by them, and no one else.

Knowing this, they realize that, once they die, they inevitably leave behind the legacy of their own deeds. This legacy lives on, as the Buddha taught that there cannot be an 'orphaned' event, the one that will not bear fruit.

The only problem, then, is -- who is going to taste the fruit of such acts, once the original doer disappears (that is, dies)?

And the only meaningful answer to this question is that the original doer will continue to kick around, and will be brought by the Law of Causality to taste the fruits of his or her previous actions.

This being so, it becomes evident that the Buddhist cycles have the capacity to stretch beyond the limits of an individual lifetime. As such, these cycles bring with them an unprecedented broadening of the horizons. The trifle selfishness and the small-mindedness of the everyday person, who can barely see beyond his/her paycheck, let alone beyond his lifetime, now gets slowly replaced by the open-mindedness of the typical Buddhist practitioner. The broadened horizons help appease the innate fears that make most people completely incapacitated.