Lost

We’re
caught in confusion because of mistaken beliefs about who we are, says
Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, but we can see our way clear by using
meditation to slow down.
The nidanas—the twelve branches of dependently related arisings, or “cause and result”—are the elements that keep us in samsara, the cycle of suffering. I offered a description of the nidanas in the July issue of the Sun,
and now continue this investigation by looking specifically at the
first nidana, ignorance, and how it fuels our sense of self. Once there
is a self, then there is action. Once there is action, there is birth,
and the wheel keeps turning. The coarse level of ignorance known as the first nidana is about not knowing, and it results in four mistaken beliefs about who we are. The
first comes from not knowing the four noble truths (suffering, the
origin of suffering, the cessation of suffering, and the true path); the
second from not understanding impermanence; the third from experiencing
suffering as pleasure; and the fourth from thinking that the self is a
solid entity. First,
when we don’t understand the four noble truths, we believe that chasing
what we desire will bring us happiness. We stay in the cycle of
suffering because we assume that samsara will deliver what we want. Over
and over, we try to make it work. Our efforts are grounded in mistaking
our ever-changing experience for a solid self, or “me.” To break free
of this, we need to see clearly that the chain reaction of causes and
conditions that dominate our world is cyclical, endless, and
fundamentally dissatisfying. Suffering is the reverberation of not
knowing selflessness. When we see the depth of our bewilderment and the
darkness of samsara, we stop thinking that we can get what we want from
it. Second,
before we can understand impermanence, we have to understand
permanence. We think we’re permanent, that we’ll always be who we are.
This deep-rooted notion of permanence is like being in a dream. When
we’re in a dream, it feels like it’s going to last forever, yet the self
we’re imagining is simply a conglomeration of skandhas or
“heaps”— blood, bones, memories, emotions, thoughts, and perceptions.
Ignorance says, “I think I’ll call this ‘me.’” When we believe the self
is permanent, we believe the world and its phenomena also are permanent.
We see that things change, but our sense of permanence is pervasive. Third,
we believe that the self is pleasurable, and consequently mistake
suffering for pleasure. From the Buddha’s point of view, when we are
feeling happy, all we are actually experiencing is a slight reduction of
pain. Mistaking less pain for happiness is like saying a good day is
when nothing goes wrong. We falsely think we can somehow make a painful
situation into a pleasurable experience, but fundamentally every
experience will change into pain or agitation. When our mind can’t
settle into its own inherent peace, we constantly mistake for happiness
experiences other than that peace. The Buddha called this “all-pervasive
suffering.” Fourth,
we assume that we exist as separate individuals because we have created
a world from the skandhas of form, feeling, discrimination, formation,
and consciousness. Thinking of ourselves as separate and solid leads to a
sense of dualism and possessiveness—if we are separate, someone could
take something away from us. Attachment, fear, pride, and anger arise
because we’ve made the five skandhas “mine.” The self actually never
existed. We have solidified these five elements into “me.” So
we’re stuck in a certain way of thinking and behaving, which only leads
to more suffering. We need to step back, even if it’s just to try to
imagine something more subtle than the “me” scenario: “Maybe my
understanding is too one-sided. There is an interdependency, a play of
experience that is like a mirage and that I’m not really able to
comprehend.” How do we create a situation in which we can get
a better perspective and look into what is happening? To understand
what is going on, we have to stabilize the situation. We have to slow
down and get a feeling of who we are and what we’re doing. Through the
practice of meditation, we learn to penetrate the confusion of our minds
and perceptions. There are two basic stages to this process: shamatha—“peaceful abiding”—and vipashyana—“clear seeing.”
The practice of peaceful abiding quells negative emotions. The Sanskrit word for intense emotionality is klesha,
and it has to do with obscuration and contamination. We are afflicted
with kleshas such as anger and jealousy, just as we are sometimes
afflicted with illness. From the perspective of the nidanas, these
afflictive emotions arise because we are misinterpreting the skandhas.
Our mistaken view of a permanent, solid entity called “me” has resulted
in fixation, desire, and aggression. Afflictive emotion doesn’t just
mean having a temper tantrum; it can also mean discursiveness—having a
weak or scattered mind. Taking on those misunderstandings, the mind
becomes obscured, thickened, and veiled by emotions. We are obscured
because the truth is not coming out. Shamatha
is a potent way to tame the conventional mind. The process is sometimes
described as taking the stones and weeds out of a field and processing
or nurturing the soil so that something can grow in it. As we look at
how thoughts, memories, and conflicting emotions rise and fall, our mind
becomes more peaceful. Although the mistaken beliefs are still in
place, there is less agitation, and the kleshas are not as strong and
predominant. Practice is taking the time to step back a little, release
our grip, and see where we are. If we’re able to do that, we can begin
to notice a pattern. Before that, we’re stuck in the pattern, and we can’t see it. It’s a very limited view. When
our mind is at peace, we have the subtlety, stability, and clarity to
see our mistaken assumptions about who we are and what the world is. We
do this by contemplating impermanence, suffering, and the five skandhas.
This is how we learn to see clearly, and develop the intention to
change.
Practice
is a gradual process. We have to stick with it and apply ourselves to
work through our natural mistaken beliefs. Initially, the process is
awkward because there’s still distance between us and truth of how
things are. We think, “Is this cause and effect, as I’ve heard? Is this
the suffering the Buddha talked about? Is this selflessness?” The more
we stabilize our minds, however, the more we are able to point them
toward the truth. The more we contemplate the truth, the more we see
clearly how karma and the twelve nidanas work. Eventually, we are able
to bring into our daily experience the inquiry and inspiration aroused
by practice.
Originally published in the November 2010 Shambhala Sun magazine. Sakyong
Mipham Rinpoche is the spiritual leader of Shambhala, an
international network of Buddhist meditation and retreat centers. He
is the author of Turning the
Mind into an Ally and Ruling
Your World.
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