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Meditating on
No-Self A Dhamma Talk
Edited for Bodhi Leaves Sister Khema Buddhist Publication Society Copyright Đ 1984 Buddhist Publication Society Sister Khema was born in Germany, educated in
Scotland and China, and later became a United States citizen. She now lives
at Wat Buddha Dhamma Forest Monastery near Sydney Australia, which was
established in 1978 on land purchased and donated by her. In 1979 she
ordained as a Nun in Sri Lanka, and in 1982 she established the International
Buddhist Women's Centre near Colombo. She spends most of her time teaching
meditation course in different parts of the world.
Rains Retreat is spent in Sri Lanka. In Buddhism we use the words "self"
and "no-self," and so it is important to understand just what this
"no-self," anatta, is all about, even if it is first just an
idea, because the essence of the Buddha's teaching hinges on this concept.
And in this teaching Buddhism is unique. No one, no other spiritual teacher,
has formulated no-self in just this way. And because it has been formulated
by him in this way, there is also the possibility of speaking about it. Much
has been written about no-self, but in order to know
it, one has to experience it. And that is what the
teaching aims at, the experience of no-self. Yet in order to
experience no-self, one has first to fully know self. Actually
know it. But unless we do know what this self is, this self
called "me," it is impossible to know what is meant by
"there is no self there." In order to give something away, we have
to first fully gave it in hand. We are constantly trying to reaffirm self.
Which already shows that this "self" is a very fragile and rather
wispy sort of affair, because if it weren't why would we constantly have to
reaffirm it? Why are we constantly afraid of the "self" being
threatened of its being insecure, of its not getting
what it needs for survival? If it were such a solid entity as we believe it
to be, we would not feel threatened so often. We affirm "self" again
and again through identification. We identify with a certain name, an
age, a sex, an ability, an occupation. "I am a lawyer,
I am a doctor. I am an accountant, I am a
student." And we identify with the people we are attached to. "I am
a husband, I am a wife, I am a mother, I am a daughter, I am a son."
Now, in the manner of speech, we have to use
"self" in that way -- but it isn't only in speech. We really think
that that "self" is who we are. We really believe it. There is no
doubt in our mind that that "self" is who we are. When any of these
factors is threatened, if being a wife is threatened, if being a mother is
threatened, if being a lawyer is threatened, if being a teacher is threatened
-- or if we lose the people who enable us to retain that "self" --
what a tragedy! The self-identification
becomes insecure, and "me" finds it hard to say
"look at me," "this is me." Praise and blame are
included. Praise reaffirms "me." Blame threatens "me." So we like the praise and we dislike the blame. The ego is
threatened. Fame and infamy -- same thing. Loss and gain. If we gain, the ego
gets bigger; if we lose, it gets a bit smaller. So we are constantly in a
quandary, and in constant fear. The ego might lose a little bit of its
grandeur. It might be made a bit smaller by someone. And it happens to all of
us. Somebody is undoubtedly going to blame us for something eventually. Even
the Buddha was blamed. Now the blame that is levied at us is not the
problem. The problem is our reaction. The problem is that we feel smaller.
The ego has a hard time reasserting itself. So what
we usually do is we blame back, making the other's
ego a bit smaller too. Identification with whatever it is that we do
and whatever it is that we have, be it possessions or people, is, so we
believe, needed for our survival. "Self" survival. If we don't
identify with this or that, we feel as if we are in limbo. This is the reason
why it is difficult to stop thinking in meditation. Because without thinking
there would be no identification. If I don't think, what do I identify with?
It is difficult to come to a stage in meditation in which there is actually nothing to identify with any
more. Happiness, too, may be an identification.
"I am happy." "I am unhappy." Because we are so keen on
survival, we have got to keep on identifying. When this identification
becomes a matter of the life or death of the ego, which it usually is, then
the fear of loss becomes so great that we can be in a constant state of fear.
Constantly afraid to lose either the possessions that make us what we are, or
the people that make us what we are. If we have no children, or if they all
die, we are no longer a mother. So fear is
paramount. The same goes for all other identifications. Not a very peaceful
state of living and what is it due to? Only one thing: ego, the craving to
be. This identification results, of course, in
craving for possessing. And this possessing results
in attachment. What we have, what we identify with, we are attached to. That
attachment, that clinging, makes it extremely difficult to have a free and
open viewpoint. This kind of clinging, whatever it may be that we cling to --
it may not be clinging to motor cars and houses, it may not even be clinging
to people -- but we certainly cling to views and opinions. We cling to our
world view. We cling to the view of how we are going to be happy. Maybe we
cling to a view of who created this universe. Whatever it is we cling to,
even how the government should run the country, all of
that makes it extremely difficult to see things as they really are. To be
open-minded. And it is only an open mind which can take in new ideas and
understanding. Lord Buddha compared listeners to four
different kinds of clay vessels. The first clay vessel is one that has holes
at the bottom. If you pour water into it, it runs right out. In other words,
whatever you teach that person is useless. The second clay vessel he compared
to one that had cracks in it. If you pour water into it, the water seeps out.
These people cannot remember. Cannot put two and two together. Cracks in the understanding. The third listener he compared to a
vessel that was completely full. Water cannot be poured in for it's full to
the brim. Such a person, so full of views he can't learn anything new! But
hopefully, we are the fourth kind. The empty vessels without any holes or
cracks. Completely empty. I dare say we are not. But may be empty
enough to take in enough. To be empty like that, of views and opinions, means
a lack of clinging. Even a lack of clinging to what we think is reality.
Whatever we think reality is, it surely is not, because if it were, we would
never be unhappy for a single moment. We would never feel a lack of anything.
We would never feel a lack of companionship, of ownership. We would never
feel frustrated, bored. If we ever do, whatever we
think is real, is not. What is truly reality is completely fulfilling. If we
aren't completely fulfilled, we aren't seeing complete reality. So, any view
that we may have is either wrong or it is partial. Because it is wrong or partial, and bounded
by the ego, we must look at it with suspicion. Anything we cling to keeps us
bound to it. If I cling to a table-leg, I can't possibly get out the door.
There is no way I can move. I am stuck. Not until I let go will I have the opportunity to get out. Any identification, any
possession that is clung to, is what stops us from reaching transcendental
reality. Now we can easily see this clinging when we cling to things and
people, but we cannot easily see why the five khandhas
are called the five clung-to aggregates. That is their name, and they are, in
fact, what we cling to most. That is an entire clinging. We don't even stop
to consider when we look at our body, and when we look at our mind, or when
we look at feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness -- vedana, saņņa,
sankhara, and viņņana.
We look at this mind-and-body, nama-rupa,
and we don't even doubt the fact that this is my feeling, my
perception, my memory, my thoughts, and my awareness of my
consciousness. And no one starts doubting until they start seeing. And for
that seeing we need a fair bit of empty space apart from views and opinions. Clinging is the greatest possessiveness and
attachment we have. As long as we cling we cannot
see reality. We cannot see reality because clinging is in the way. Clinging
colors whatever we believe to be true. Now it is not possible to say "all right, I'll stop clinging." We can't do
that. The process of taking the "me" apart, of not believing any
more that this is one whole, is a gradual one. But if meditation has any
benefit and success, it must show that first of all
there is mind and there is body. There isn't one single thing acting in
accord all the time. There is mind which is thinking and making the body act.
Now that is the first step in knowing oneself a little clearer. And then we
can note "this is a feeling" and "I am giving this feeling a
name" which means memory and perception. "This is the thought that
I am having about this feeling. The feeling has come about because the
mind-consciousness has connected with the feeling that has arisen." Take the four parts of the khandhas that belong to the mind apart. When we do
that while it is happening -- not now when we are thinking about at-but while it is happening, then we get a inkling that this isn't really
me, that these are phenomena that are arising, which stay a moment,
and then cease. How long does mind-consciousness stay on one object? And how
long do thoughts last? And have we really invited them? The clinging, the clung-to, are what make the
ego arise. Because of clinging the notion of
"me" arises and then there is me, and me having all the
problems. Without me would there be problems? If there weren't anyone
sitting inside me -- as we think there is -- who is called I or me or John,
Claire, then who is having the problem? The khandhas
do not have any problems. The khandhas are
just processes. They are phenomena, and that is all. They are just going on
and on and on. But because I am grasping at them, and trying to hold on to
them, and saying: "it's me, it's me feeling, it's me
wanting,." then problems arise. If we really want to get rid of suffering,
completely and totally, then clinging has to go. The
spiritual path is never one of achievement; it is always one of letting go.
The more we let go, the more there is empty and open space for us to see
reality. Because what we let go of is no longer there, there is the
possibility of just moving without clinging to the results of the movement. As long as we cling to the results of what we do, as long as we cling to the results of what we think, we
are bound, we are hemmed in. Now there is a third thing that we do: we are
interested in becoming something or somebody. Interested in becoming an
excellent meditator. Interested in becoming a graduate. Interested in
becoming something which we are not. And becoming something stops us from
being. When we are stopped from being, we cannot pay attention to what there really is. All this
becoming business is, of course, in the future. Since whatever there is in
the future is conjecture, it is a dream world we live in. The only reality we
can be sure of is this particular moment right now;
and this particular moment as you must be able to be
aware of -- has already passed and this one has
passed and the next one has also passed. See how they are all passing! That
is the impermanence of it all. Each moment passes, but we cling, trying to
hold on to them. Trying to make them a reality. Trying to make them a
security. Trying to make them be something which they are not. See how they
are all passing. We cannot even say it as quickly as they are doing it. There is nothing that is secure. Nothing to
hold on to, nothing that is stable. The whole universe is constantly falling
apart and coming back together. And that includes the mind and the body which
we call "I." You may believe it or not, it makes no difference. In order to know it, you must experience it; when you
experience it, it's perfectly clear. What one experiences is totally clear.
No one can say it is not. They may try, but their objections make no sense
because you have experienced it. It's the same thing as biting into the mango
to know its taste. To experience it, one needs meditation. An
ordinary mind can only know ordinary concepts and ideas. If one wants to
understand and experience extraordinary experiences and ideas, one has to have an extraordinary mind. An extraordinary mind
comes about through concentration. Most meditators have experienced some
stage that is different then
the one they are use to. So it is not ordinary any more.
But we have to fortify that far more than just the
beginning stage. To the point where the mind is truly extraordinary.
Extraordinary in the sense that it can direct itself to where it wants to go.
Extraordinary in the sense that it no longer gets perturbed by everyday
events. And when the mind can concentrate, then it experiences states which
it has never known before. To realize that your universe constantly falls
apart and comes back together again is a meditative experience. It takes
practice, perseverance and patience. And when the mind is unperturbed and
still, equanimity, evenmindedness,
peacefulness arise. At that time the mind understands the idea of
impermanence to such an extent that it sees itself as totally impermanent.
And when one sees one's own mind as being totally impermanent, there is a
shift in one's viewpoint. That shift I like to compare with a kaleidoscope
that children play with. A slight touch and you get a different picture. The
whole thing looks quite different with just a slight shift. Non-self is experienced through the aspect of
impermanence, through the aspect of unsatisfactoriness, and through the
aspect of emptiness. Empty of what? The word "emptiness" is so
often misunderstood because when one only thinks of it as a concept, one says "what do you mean by empty?" Everything is
there: there are the people, and there are their insides, guts and their
bones and blood and everything is full of stuff -- and the mind is not empty
either. It's got ideas, thoughts and feelings. And even when it doesn't have
those, what do you mean by emptiness? The only thing that is empty is the
emptiness of an entity. There is no specific entity in anything. That
is emptiness. That is the nothingness. That
nothingness is also experienced in meditation. It is empty, it is devoid of a
specific person, devoid of a specific thing, devoid of anything which makes
it permanent, devoid of anything which even makes it important. The whole
thing is in flux. So the emptiness is that. And the
emptiness is to be seen everywhere; to be seen in oneself. And that is what
is called anatta, non-self. Empty of an entity. There is nobody there.
It is all imagination. At first that feels very insecure. That person that I've been regarding with so
much concern, that person trying to do this or that, that person who will be
my security, will be my insurance for a happy life -- once I find that person
-- that person does not really exist. What a frightening and insecure idea
that is! What a feeling of fear arises! But as a matter of fact, it's just
the reverse. If one accepts and bears that fright and goes through it, one
comes to complete and utter relief and release. I'll give you a simile:
Imagine you own a very valuable jewel which is so valuable that you place
your trust in it so that should you fall upon hard times, it will look after
you. It's so valuable that you can have it as your security. You don't trust
anybody. So you have a safe inside your house and
that is where you put your jewel. Now you have been working hard for a number of years and you think
you deserve a holiday. So now, what to do with the jewel? Obviously
you cannot take it with you on your seaside holiday. So
you buy new locks for the doors to your house and
you bar your windows and you alert your neighbors. You tell them about the
proposed holiday and ask them to look after you
house -- and the safe in it. And they say they will, of course. You should be
quite at ease and so you go off on your holiday. You go to the beach, and it's wonderful.
Marvelous. The palm trees are swaying in the wind, and the spot you've chosen
on the beach is nice and clean. The waves are warm and it's all lovely. The
first day you really enjoy yourself. But on the second day you begin to
wonder; the neighbors are very nice people, but they do go and visit their
children. They are not always at home, and lately there has been a rash of
burglaries in the neighborhood. And on the third day you've convinced
yourself that something dreadful is going to happen, and you go back home.
You walk in and open the safe. Everything is all right. You go over to the
neighbors and they ask, "Why did you come back? We were looking after
your place. You didn't have to come back. Everything is fine." The next year, the same thing. Again you tell the neighbors, "Now this time I am
really going to stay away for a month. I need this holiday as I've been
working hard." So they say, "Absolutely no
need to worry, just take off. Go to the beach." So once more you bar the windows, lock the doors, get everything shipshape,
and take off for the beach. Again, it's wonderful, beautiful. This time you
last for five days. On the fifth day you are convinced that something
dreadful must have happened. And you go home. You go home, and by golly, it
has. The jewel is gone. You are in a state of complete collapse. Total
desperation. Depressed. So you go to the neighbors, but they have no idea
what has happened. they've been around all the time. Then you sit and
consider the matter and you realize that since the
jewel is gone, you might as well go back to the beach and enjoy yourself! That jewel is self. Once it is gone,
all the burden of looking after it, all the fears
about it, all the barring of doors and windows and heart and mind is no
longer necessary. You can just go and enjoy yourself while you're still in
this body. After proper investigation, the frightening aspect of losing this
thing that seemed so precious turns out to be the only relief and release
from worry that there is. There are three doors to liberation: the signless, the desireless, and emptiness. If we understand
impermanence, anicca, fully, it is
called the signless liberation. If we understand
suffering, dukkha, fully, it is the desireless liberation. If we
understand no-self, anatta, fully, then it is the emptiness
liberation. Which means we can go through any of these three doors. And to be
liberated means never to have to experience an
unhappy moment again. It also means something else: it means we are no longer
creating kamma. A person who has been completely
liberated still acts, still thinks, still speaks and still looks to all
intents and purposes like anybody else, but that person has lost the idea
that I am thinking, I am speaking, I am acting. Kamma is
no longer being made because there is just the thought, just the speech, just
the action. There is the experience but no experiencer.
And because no kamma is being made any longer,
there is no rebirth. That is full enlightenment. In this tradition, three stages of
enlightenment have been classified before one comes to the fourth stage, full
enlightenment. The first stage, the one we can concern ourselves with -- at
least theoretically -- is called sotapanna.
Stream-enterer. It means a person who has seen Nibbana once and has thereby
entered the stream. That person cannot be deterred from the Path any more. If the insight is strong, there may be only one
more life-time. If the insight is weak, it can be
seven more life-times. Having seen Nibbana for
oneself once, one loses some of the difficulties one had before. The most
drastic hindrance that one loses is the idea that this person we call
"I" is a separate entity. The wrong view of self is lost. But that
doesn't mean that a sotapanna is constantly
aware of no-self. The wrong view is lost. But the right view has to be reinforced again and again
and experienced again and again through that reinforcement. Such a person no longer has any great
interest, and certainly no belief, in rites and rituals. They may still be
performed because they are traditional or that are customary, but such a
person no longer believes they can bring about any kind of liberation (if
they ever believed that before). And then a very interesting thing is lost: skeptical doubt. Skeptical doubt is lost because one
has seen for oneself that what the Buddha taught was actually
so. Until that time skeptical doubt will have to arise again and again because one can easily think: "Well,
maybe. Maybe it's so, but how can I be sure?"
One can only be sure through one's own experience. Then, of course, there is
no skeptical doubt left because one has seen exactly that which has been
described, and having seen it, one's own heart and mind gives an
understanding which makes it possible to see everything else. Dhamma must have as its base the
understanding that there is no special entity. There is continuity, but there
is no special entity. And that continuity is what makes it so difficult for
us to see that there really isn't anybody inside the body making things
happen. Things are happening anyway. So the first
instance of having seen a glimpse of freedom, called stream-entry, makes
changes within us. It certainly does not uproot greed and hate -- in fact,
they are not even mentioned. But through the greater understanding such a
person has, the greed and the hate lessen. They are not as strong anymore,
and they do not manifest in gross ways, but do remain in subtle ways. The next stages are the once-returner, then
the non-returner, then the arahat. Once-returner,
one more life in the five-sense world. Non-returner, no human life necessary,
and arahat, fully enlightened. Sensual desire and
hate only go with non-returners, and complete
conceit of self, only with arahat. So we can be quite
accepting of the fact that since we are not arahats,
we still have greed and hate. It isn't a matter of blaming oneself for having
them: it's a matter of understanding where these come from. They come from
the delusion of me. I want to protect this jewel which is me. That
is how they arise. But with the continued practice of meditation, the mind
can become clearer and clearer. It finally
understands. And when it does understand, it can see transcendental reality.
Even if seen for one thought-moment, the experience
is of great impact and makes a marked change in our lives. http://world.std.com/~metta/lib/bps/leaves/bl095.html |