The Three Kayas

The mind is not something that can be completely understood conceptually. This is almost obvious. Thoughts are within the mind, they cannot transcend it and grasp it from without. Or, to paraphrase a sutra, just as a sword cannot cut itself, the mind cannot apprehend the mind. In fact, the mind has no characteristics. Characteristics are mental constructs that live within the mind. They therefore cannot be true properties of the mind. This empty quality of mind (empty of characteristics) is the dharmakaya. It is in fact our Buddha nature. It is a fertile quality that pervades all phenomena, allowing them to change and grow, appear and disappear. It is expansive and vast, the ground of all existence, and although it can be hinted at through concepts, can only be experienced directly for it to be truly "understood." When making a rough analogy to Christian thought, I like to think of this as being the analogue of "God," but this is a totally nonconceptual, nonanthropomorphic God, more like how I understand the God of Spinoza, than the usual way people think of Him or, presumably, Her.

However, emptiness is a word that can be easily misunderstood, since it has a very negative connotation in Western thought, seemingly implying a nothingness. As though our consciousness is dark, like in a deep sleep. Yet appearances are constantly arising. Thoughts are always happening, so many that it's inconceivable, and you can't make them stop if you wanted to. Furthermore, there is a sense that these appearances are known and perceived, illuminated, if you will. This luminous quality of mind, is called the samboghakaya, and in Christian thought, I make the rough analogy to the Holy Spirit. Like an ethereal energy that pervades everything, is somewhat conceptualized, though not anthropomorphically, and also provides inspiration. The samboghakaya forms of the Buddhas can appear in visions to advanced practitioners and relay teachings and blessings, in much the same way the Holy Spirit can visit people.

Finally, the actual thoughts and appearances themselves correspond to the nirmanakaya. The Buddha's physical form is called the nirmanakaya, and I would say is analogous to the Son in Christian thought. A physical instantiation of the Godhead sent to help sentient beings.

This presentation of the three kayas, unlike the Christian presentation, emphasizes the presence of each in our very own mind. Salvation is right here, right now in this very instant. All the tools are with us, closer than we can even perceive, but they are there, and once we see them, we can make use of them. I, personally, am constantly distracted by everyday appearances and my own conceptual constructs. Even when I'm practicing dharma intensively, it's easy for me to get caught in the lie that practicing dharma is like climbing a staircase. With that attitude, I am putting off enlightenment/salvation by ignoring the only place it can be found: right now. When I do remember to stay in the present moment, I can't tell you how different, relaxing, and totally right it feels. In the Buddhist presentation, this is emphasized, and of course many Christian contemplatives have understood this and practiced it. Thomas Merton springs immediately to mind. Several denominations have embraced meditation as a spiritual tool. It would be nice if it became a more mainstream Christian practice. I think it could help a lot of people.

Eternity

Osama bin Laden's death has been announced this morning. NPR was interviewing a man whose wife was killed in the WTC collapse. He expressed satisfaction at the fact that Osama was burning in hell and that his wife was in heaven with the angels. I doubt he really believed this because it makes no sense on the face of it. If the WTC attack really was the proximate cause of his wife being sent to a better place, it would make no sense to be angry about this. Further, how can it make sense for a finite amount of wrongdoing (the result of which was that someone went to paradise) to be punished by an infinite amount of torment without end? It seems incredibly unjust.

Since becoming a Buddhist I've noticed again and again Christian obsession with permanence. When you die, there are two options, black and white, eternal bliss or eternal suffering, no in-between, no change. If this is really the case, then the negligible amount of time we have on this planet seems like a ridiculous fitness test for admittance into either category. It's like you're looking at a 10,000 mile stretch of road and judging it based on the first millimeter.

I was disheartened to see the jubilant reaction at another person's death, even more so when I realized that a lot of people believe that he will be tormented forever in hell. How can one person wish that kind of inconceivable suffering on another?

I have to say that the Buddhist idea that everything is impermanent, unsolid and changing makes a lot more sense to me, and is supported by continued observation of all phenomena. Not once has anyone seen something which is not subject to change. There is no blissful state that lasts for all time, nor is there a state of torment. Everything which arises also ceases.

Enemies are our spiritual friends

If there are no aggressors or harm-doers, patience does not arise. It appears only in the presence of those who attack us. Given therefore that it is precisely an enemy that is the definite cause for the practice of patience, how can it possibly be said that the enemy is an obstacle to our merit and virtue? It does not make sense, for the former is the cause of the latter. It is the absence of the enemy that prevents patience from arising.

-Kunzang Pelden, "The Nectar of Manjushri's Speech," a detailed commentary on Shantideva's Way of the Bodhisattva

Death and hiking

I know that's a weird title, but it's descriptive of the two topics I had in mind for this post. My pet mouse Delta just died, a fact which most people might find a bit sad, but on the whole utterly trivial. In a way, it's as trivial as all death. Vast numbers of creatures of all sizes are dying every single second. How significant is one more? Still my wife and I were very attached to the little girl, and we were quite sad to see her go. It's interesting to compare the life of a mouse with the life of a dog, a human, or even a car. It's easier to observe the overall arc of life in a mouse because it does happen so quickly. In all cases we start accumulating various problems which don't quite fix themselves, and after a while they become catastrophic enough that our body ceases to function. It's the natural arc of life in which every creature is embedded. My Buddhist training tells me that when a tragedy happens, like the death of a loved one, to use it to further my own practice. I think to myself that I am no different in nature from the one who died, and I will eventually die, though I don't know when. It could be that I won't see tomorrow. Realizing this, I am spurred by the short time I have left to make the most of every moment.

Speaking of running short on time, I'm about to leave on a 4.5 day hiking trip. It should be a lot of fun. Unfortunately, that means I have to end this blog post rather abruptly....

Excellent video

This video really drives home its point. I cried watching it.

Frozen in time

The Buddha compared the course of our life to the trajectory of an arrow. Just as the arrow rushes toward its target, our life proceeds inexorably towards death. To us, it appears as though time is fixed. As we stare at a person, or at ourselves, we do not see any change from second to second. Yet, we really are changing. Our bodies are changing. Our mind is changing. Nothing ever remains the same. This is what Buddhists call subtle impermanence, or even subtle suffering. It is called suffering because the perception that things remain the same, that they are therefore real objects which we can cling to and find support in, is actually completely and totally illusory. All conceptual constructs are constantly bubbling in and out of existence. People in their youth typically have no comprehension of the reality that they will one day either grow old or die. This is somewhat odd, in that this one of the most blatantly obvious things we can observe about reality. The Buddhist view is that this elementary error is due to lifetimes of habit. We habitually cling to objects as real. We habitually cling to our current form as permanent. Yet nothing is permanent, and therein lies hope. By abandoning our attachment to what is impermanent, we can find happiness in the vast nonconceptual state of Buddhahood. More importantly, if we abandon attachment to self and dedicate ourselves to the happiness of others, the subtle suffering coming from our attachment to outer appearances dissolves, and the clear light of Buddhahood shines forth.

Off Facebook for a while at least

I've decided to take a break from Facebook for a while. So I'm back here posting. Will anyone read what I write? I'm not sure. Perhaps a few, or maybe none. Still, I think it's more important for my own personal progress to make longer more considered posts, than to keep posting status updates which don't really lead anywhere.