Tag Archives: philosophy

subject/object duality

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Selected excerpts from “The Island: An Anthology of the Buddha’s Teachings on Nibbana” by Ajahn Amaro and Ajahn Pasanno

Click to access The-Island-Web-2020%20ed..pdf

The word atammayata literally means ‘not made of that.’ It can also be rendered as ‘non-identification,’ focusing on the subject side of the equation. Other translators have it as ‘non-fashioning’ or ‘unconcoctability’ – thus hinting more at the object dimension of it. Either way, it refers primarily to the quality of experience prior to, or without, a subject/object duality arising. This insight leads us into a contemplation of the relationship of the apparent subject and object – how the tension between the two generates the world of things and its experiencer, and more importantly how, when that duality is seen through, the heart’s liberation is the result.

“In the seen there is only the seen, in the heard, there is only the heard, in the sensed there is only the sensed, in the cognized there is only the cognized: This, Bahiya, is how you should train yourself.”

“When, Bahiya, there is for you in the seen only the seen, in the heard, only the heard, in the sensed only the sensed, in the cognized only the cognized, then, Bahiya, there is no ‘you’ in connection with that. When, Bahiya, there is no ‘you’ in connection with that, there is no ‘you’ there. When, Bahiya, there is no ‘you’ there, then, Bahiya, you are neither here nor there nor in between the two. This, just this, is the end of suffering.” [ ~Ud 1.10]

In more recent times, Ajahn Buddhadasa outlined three qualities which describe the upper reaches of spiritual refinement:
sunnata– voidness or emptiness;
tathata – thusness or suchness;
atammayata – nonidentification or ‘not-thatness.
When the qualities of emptiness and suchness are considered, even though the conceit of identity (self) might already have been seen through, there can still remain subtle traces of clinging; clinging to the idea of an objective world being known by a subjective knowing even though no sense of ‘I’ is discernible at all. There can be the feeling of a ‘this’ which is knowing a ‘that,’ and either saying “Yes” to it, in the case of suchness, or “No” in the case of emptiness. Atammayata is the closure of that whole domain, expressing the insight that “there is no ‘that.” It is the genuine collapse of both the illusion of separateness of subject and object and also of the discrimination between phenomena as being somehow substantially different from each other.

The ninth of the Ten Fetters is uddhacca – restlessness. The restlessness to which this refers is the subtlest of feelings that there might be something better over there or just in the future; a feeling that ‘that’ (which is out of reach) might have more value in some way than ‘this.’ It is the ever-so-insidious addiction to time and its promises. Atammayata is the utter abandonment of this root delusion: one sees that in ultimate truth there is no time, no self, no here and no there. So rather than “Be here now” as a spiritual exhortation, perhaps instead we should say: “Let go of identity, space and time,” or: “Realize unlocated, timeless selflessness.”

6.4) [I]n the Vedanta … to be wholly and exclusively aware of Brahman (Hindu Godhead) was at the same time to be Brahman… The origins of this idea seem to lie in a theory of sense perception in which the grasping hand supplies a dominant analogy. It takes the shape of what it apprehends. Vision was similarly explained: the eye sends out some kind of ray which takes the shape of what we see and comes back with it. Similarly thought: a thought conforms to its object. This idea is encapsulated in the term tanmayata, ‘consisting of that’: that the thought of the gnostic or meditator becomes con-substantial with the thing realized. ~ Richard Gombrich, ‘Metaphor, Allegory, Satire,’ in ‘How Buddhism Began: The Conditioned Genesis of the Early Teachings,’ pp 86-7 That is to say, with the opposite quality, a-tammayata, the mind’s ‘energy’ does not go out to the object and occupy it. It neither makes an objective ‘thing’ or a subjective ‘observer’ knowing it; hence ‘non-identification’ refers to the subjective aspect and ‘non-fabrication’ mostly to the objective.

The reader should also carefully bear in mind the words “The origins of this idea…” and not take the Vedic concept and imagery as representing the Buddhist use of the word entirely accurately. In the state of atammayata, in its Buddhist usage, there is no actual ‘becoming con-substantial’ with the thing that is being known; it is more that the deluded identification of the mind with the object is being dispelled (see also §6.7)

One helpful way of understanding atammayata’s role and significance is to relate it to the other two items in the final triad of the nine insights as outlined by Ajahn Buddhadasa. These three qualities describe the upper reaches of spiritual refinement: sunnata – voidness or emptiness; tathata – thusness or suchness; atammayata – nonidentification or ‘not-thatness.’ The three qualities speak to the nature of experience when many of the coarser defilements have fallen away. When the qualities of emptiness and suchness are considered, even though the conceit of identity might already have been seen through, there can still remain subtle traces of clinging; clinging to the idea of an objective world being known by a subjective knowing even though no sense of “I” is discernible at all.

There can be the feeling of a ‘this’ which is knowing a ‘that,’ and either saying “Yes” to it, in the case of suchness, or “No” in the case of emptiness. Atammayata is the closure of that whole domain, expressing the insight that “There is no ‘that.'” It is the genuine collapse of both the illusion of separateness of subject and object and also of the discrimination between phenomena as being somehow substantially different from each other.

Perhaps one of the simplest, clearest and most practical expressions of the principle of atammayata – ‘not-made-of-that-ness’ – has come down to us from the teachings of Luang Pu Dun, a direct disciple of Ven. Ajahn Mun and one of the great lights of Dhamma in Asia in recent years. Here is his reformulation of the 117 Four Noble Truths, based on the depiction of ignorance (avijja) as the fundamental error of the mind attempting to ‘go out’ and pursue ‘thatness’ in the form of perceptions, feelings and ideas. In reflecting on these four formulae, it might be helpful to recollect the analogy of the grasping hand, mentioned in §6.4, reaching out to become con-substantial with its object and then returning with it. 6.6)

The mind that goes out in order to satisfy its moods is the Cause of Suffering (II); The result that comes from the mind going out in order to satisfy its moods is Suffering (I); The mind seeing the mind clearly is the Path Leading to the Cessation of Suffering (IV); The result of the mind seeing the mind clearly is the Cessation of Suffering (III).

~ Luang Pu Dun, ‘Atulo,‘ collected teachings compiled by Phra Bodhinandamuni

this and that and other things

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Here are a few selected excerpts from “The Island: An Anthology of the Buddha’s Teachings on Nibbana” by Ajahn Amaro and Ajahn Pasanno.

We often feel that there is a me in here that’s experiencing a world out there, and we can even experience thoughts and feelings as part of the world that ‘I’ am aware of. However, one of the most profound and liberating insights of the Buddha was that the feeling of I-ness (ahamkara) was just as much of a causally created construct as any other perceptual object. He saw that the solidity of the world of things, and of the ‘I’ that apparently experiences them, were both equally illusory, both void of substance.

This insight leads us into a contemplation of the relationship of the apparent subject and object – how the tension between the two generates the world of things and its experience and more importantly how, when that duality is seen through, the heart’s liberation is the result.

Probably the clearest and most often quoted of the Buddha’s teachings on this is that given to a wanderer called Bahiya Daruciriya. According to the scriptures, Bahiya was a well-respected religious teacher who lived in northern India, somewhere on the seacoast. He was an ascetic of some spiritual accomplishment and he assumed that he was a fully enlightened being. One night a devata, who had been a relative of his in a former life, came to him and informed him that: “No, you are not an arahant and you are not on the way to becoming one either.” Bahiya was disturbed by this announcement and asked then, if there were any genuine arahants in the world. He was told: “Yes indeed,” and his celestial visitor described both the Buddha and where he was residing. Bahiya is said to have started the walk of several hundred miles then and there. Some days later, having reached the district capital of Savatthi, he encountered the Buddha and a group of his monks as they walked on their morning alms round through the narrow, dusty streets of the town. He strode right up and bowed before the Buddha, stopping him in his tracks – and asked to receive teachings on the Dhamma. The Buddha pointed out that this was not a convenient time to teach him, as they were in the middle of collecting their alms food and around them was all the surge and bustle of an Indian market town at the start of the day; however Bahiya was undeterred and responded by saying
“Life is a very uncertain thing, venerable sir, it is unknown when either you or I might die, please therefore teach me the Dhamma here and now.”
As often occurs in Buddhist scriptures, this exchange was repeated three times. Finally, both because the Buddha could see the truth of Bahiya’s assertion (he himself regularly used the fact of such uncertainty in encouraging a sense of urgency in his students) and because when pressed up to the third time on any question a Buddha has to respond, he then relented and gave Bahiya this brief but pithy teaching:
“In the seen there is only the seen,
In the heard, there is only the heard,
 in the sensed there is only the sensed,
in the cognized there is only the cognized:
This, Bahiya, is how you should train yourself. When, Bahiya, there is for you in the seen only the seen, in the heard, only the heard, in the sensed only the sensed, in the cognized only the cognized, then, Bahiya, there is no ‘you’ in connection with that. When, Bahiya, there is no ‘you’ in connection with that, there is no ‘you’ there. When, Bahiya, there is no ‘you’ there, then, Bahiya, you are neither here nor there nor in between the two. This, just this, is the end of suffering.”
Bahiya realized full enlightenment even as he heard the few words of this teaching, kneeling in the dust and clamour of Savatthi that morning; and furthermore, true to his own sense of the fragile nature of existence, moments later he was impaled by a runaway cow and breathed his last.

It was customary of the Budd ha to honour those of his disciples who excelled in particular ways, for example: Sariputta was declared by him to be the keenest in wisdom, Dhammadinna as the nun most skilled in expounding on the Dhamma – and to Bahiya he (posthumously) accorded the honour of being the one to gain the swiftest full understanding of his teaching.

This instruction to Bahiya bears a close relation to the Kalaka.ra.ma Sutta, A 4.24, (at §6.8) and is well worth contemplating in connection with that teaching. In addition, this discourse to Bahiya, particularly in its references to non-locality, is comparable to Ud 8.1 (at §9-2), while it also has resonances with the brief comment made by Ajahn Maha Boowa, included at §9-1.
This abandonment of subject/object dualities is largely contingent upon the correct apprehension of the perceptual process, and thus the breaking down of the apparent inside/outside dichotomy of the observer and the observed.
A bhikkhu should so investigate that, as he investigates, his consciousness is not distracted and diffused externally, and internally is not fixed, and by not grasping anything he should remain undisturbed. If his consciousness is… undisturbed, then there is no coming into existence of birth, ageing, death and suffering. ~ Iti 94
This passage is comparable to one spoken in reference to the nun Jatila Bhagika, A 9-37, (included at §7.7). It is also reminiscent of the following commentary on a sutra of the Northern Buddhist tradition, given by a contemporary meditation master and scholar.

3.8) Using your inherent wisdom, observe inwardly the mind and body and outwardly the world. Completely understand both, as you would look through a pane of glass: from the outside seeing in and from the inside seeing out. Inwardly, there is no body and mind, and, outwardly, there is no world. But, although there is no body nor mind nor world, the body and mind and the world function in accord with one another. Although they function together, they are not attached to one another. This is called, “recognizing your own original mind.” The original self-nature, the true mind, clearly penetrates within and without. The recognition of your original mind is liberation. When you are not attached to sense objects or false thought, you obtain liberation. ~ Master Hsiian Hua, ‘The Sixth Patriarch’s Dharma Jewel Platform Sutra,’ p149.

A spectacularly thorough analysis of the perceptual process and the inability to find oneself anywhere within it (as demonstrated in the brief teaching to Bahiya) is to be found in the Surangama Sutra, a key text on meditation for the Ch’an school of China. This passage revolves around the Buddha’s pressing of Ananda, his closest disciple and ever-watchful attendant, to describe exactly where his mind is:
3.9) “It is the fault of your mind and eyes that you flow and turn. I am now asking you specifically about your mind and eyes: where are they now?” ~ The SMrangama Sutra, 1.169, p7 (BTTS 2003 edn).The investigation is scrupulous in the extreme, with the trusty Ananda repeatedly being confounded by the Buddha’s wisdom – as he regularly was. Every nuance of object, sense organ and sense consciousness, every possible dimension of subject and object, are explored and demonstrated to be no abiding place for an independent identity. At its conclusion the analysis arrives at the same conclusion as the teaching to Bahiya: any clinging whatsoever to this/that, here/there, subject/object, inside/outside or anything in between is synonymous with dukkha; abandon such clinging and dukkha necessarily ceases.

Continued next week: 10 July 2025

whole-life path (part 1)

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto.
Continued from last week:
“Like this, you relinquish. Can you mentally share whatever good has arisen, and release wherever dukkha has got stuck? Like this, you relinquish. Can you begin the day with a dedication towards bringing skilful qualities into being, commit to that and learn to not ask for results? If you develop a practice like that, do it more often: whatever comes into being in the morning … in the afternoon … in the evening – you relinquish it, you let it go. Or around scenarios: whatever arises with this project … with this event … with this conversation … And so on. Even as you’re doing it, in every act, relinquish the actor. This check-in with relinquishment restrains ignorance, so one’s awareness can shift to being a presence through which qualities can stream in response to what arises. The liberated citta doesn’t impose, or require, a lot of conditions.“

The full scope of this ‘no-conditions’ view is encapsulated in the teaching of the Four Noble Truths: of suffering, its origin, its ceasing and the Path to that ceasing. All of these arise through fine-tuned intention. It’s rather like using an X-ray or an angiogram to look into aspects of your body. You’re not looking to the normal self-image with its definitions. Instead, you’re exploring where you’re stuck, what you need to do about it, where you’re getting free and how to develop that. The Four Noble Truths present us with a map of the old kamma we carry, of how fresh kamma gets generated, of how it doesn’t, and of the kamma that leads to that ceasing.

As we work on our mental patterns and programs, we acknowledge the suffering and stress involved with identifying with them: First Noble Truth. This takes us into the Second Noble Truth: that dukkha has an origin – in the reflex of craving and aversion that powers sense-desire, becoming and not-becoming. This suggests actions to get the mind clear enough and firm enough to arrest those reflexes.

The Third Noble Truth, that dukkha can stop, brings with it the intention that the stopping is to be fully realized and made into a path. This means expanding awareness into the full range of experience. It’s subtle because our attention is partial. That is, we readily notice the pressure and the snags in the heart; we give great significance to the ‘wow!’ and the ‘why me?’ of our emotive patterns. But to acknowledge non-suffering and non-passion takes the intention to develop and linger in qualities such as spaciousness and evenness of mind. Can we acknowledge the times when we’re not constructing some future, past or present; or anywhere in our bodies or minds where we feel settled? Because the Third Truth is also an acknowledgement that the dukkha that we could end arises dependent on the distorting influence of craving. So instead of looking for what might or ought to be, why not notice more fully what’s already here? For instance, there’s always awareness.

The Fourth Truth, the Truth of the Path, carries the intention that non-stress is to be integrated into life. This intention integrates all the practices of ethics, of meditation and of understanding; it causes us to consider right view, right attitude, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness and right concentration. What is ‘right’ about all of them is that they are based not on feeling, but on bright intention. (And that does have an agreeable feeling to it.) So, intention is paramount, and to be developed within the range of one’s actions and interactions.

Whole-Life Path [Part 1]
You can curtail some stressful kamma through willpower, rather like rapping your knuckles when you’re about to seriously go astray. Willpower has its uses. If you’re hypnotized, don’t keep gazing at and meditating on the swinging pendulum – instead, use willpower to break free. So it is with addictive habits – don’t follow them. But that action has to be backed up with firm and committed resolve, and with addressing the causes whereby we get addicted. If you only operate from willpower, you get brutal and stupid – and addicted to willpower. Powerful people need to have something to get wilful about, because they feel disoriented without willpower’s galvanising effect. But the more wilful the mind is, the less receptive and flexible it is; and that limits its capacity for inquiry and learning. What’s really needed is a full range of intentions – such as learning to act cooperatively with others, reviewing assumptions, and breaking old habits. We also need to linger in and absorb the good, and to maintain patience with the unpredictable that is at the heart of life.

For the supreme skill of coming out of the outflows, the Buddha listed a range of intentions: to focus with deep attention; to restrain the sense-faculties; to use material resources and requisites only as they are needed; to endure the disagreeable; to steer clear of one’s weak spots; to cut off the torrent of unskilful thoughts; and to develop the factors of awakening.[55] It’s a range that can cover one’s life.

This whole-life Path is founded in deep attention: in seeing experience not in terms of self and becoming, but in terms of qualities that lead out of suffering and stress or into it. This sets us up to meet contact-impressions without reactivity; and that changes intention on a wider scale – away from getting things done on time, or my way, to one of a patient assessment of what is skilful right now. Also, the shifting of attention from inflammatory topics to ones that deepen the mind and open the heart, leads to a fuller and more balanced approach to life. Above all, when we shift our view from ‘me’ and ‘my way’ and ‘why is life so unfair?’ to one of ‘where is there stress, and where does it stop?’, suffering and stress get curtailed, some long-term programs get switched off and liberating wisdom arises. The axiom is ‘What’s getting in my way, is the Way’ – if we use deep attention. It’s the most universally applicable tool for stepping out of stress.

With that understanding, we approach life like a pilgrimage – first with the unspoken inquiry: what do we need to take with us? How much do we delight in, depend on and consume material things? It’s a far-reaching series of questions. The fever for more, springing as it does from the neglect of our heart-resources, consumes everything: one’s attention, one’s generosity, one’s compassion, one’s society – as well as aspects of the biosphere that sustain our lives. In terms of the pilgrimage, this ignorance is a death trap.

So, it’s worthwhile looking into how much one uses and exploring why that is. I often look at my belongings and think: ‘If I had to leave here, say there was a fire, could I carry all I really need with me?’ It’s a good exercise. Another one is to scan one’s living space and reflect: ‘I can either have this (book, item of clothing, etc.) or I can have the space. Which do I prefer?’ I have a box in which I put anything I haven’t used for a while. If I don’t take it out of the box inside a month – why keep it? Maybe someone else can use it.

Also look out for where you tend to get caught. Be truthful about the weak spots; linger and scrutinize the blur of habitual activity, or of acting on assumptions or social pressure. Within these, the outflows run – with ignorance acting as their cover. This is old kamma. To the extent that one’s mind has followed the consumer ethic of the mainstream; to the extent that one’s attention has been trained in the ‘business model’ of a narrow focus on external goals and minimal introspection; to the extent that one has identified with power and status, or got caught up with social trends – through any of that, the citta is bound to have acquired residual habits. It will also be undernourished in terms of deep attention and qualities that lead to awakening. This condition can change, but that does entail cultivating deep attention and keeping away from where the outflows stream. Meanwhile, don’t get fazed by the arising of old habits, but reflect on them to remind yourself to avoid old ways: don’t follow outdated maps and false guides. Of these, a good number will also crop up in one’s thinking mind. After all, this too is conditioned in terms of content (education, media) and in the authority we give to it.

Continued next week 19 June 2025

distortions and clear seeing

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto.
Continued from last week:
Isn’t it the case that much of life is the experience of trying to have an experience that we’re not having? Or trying to not have the experience that we are having? That underlying drive is outflow, its trigger is feeling and its drive is by craving. Therefore, any action – or decisive inaction – that goes against the craving, and any shift by which we see through the ignorance that obscures the failure of craving to give us fulfilment, must be crucial. That shift is away from regarding these outflows as the bases of our identity, and towards dispassionate inquiry. [53]

If there is dispassion, there’s the capacity to not blindly follow feeling. That allows the three characteristics to be verified. In terms of sense-contact, we can witness anicca not just with regard to transience, but also with how relative sense-contact is: how it just touches an aspect of awareness, and limits the ‘inner’ heart qualities. We can lose an essential part of ourselves in the senses. Furthermore, sense-contact is dukkha, in that it doesn’t satisfy and has to be reached out to.

Acknowledging these characteristics has an effect on intention; craving is checked and the outflow into the sense-fields gets arrested – not through becoming blind, deaf or brainless, but by softening or removing the mind’s automatic link to sense-contact. This brake on sensory attachment also arrests the current of ignorance: if we maintain awareness as the pull into sight, taste, thought and so on ceases, we can see through the current and notice that, where that outflow stops, it’s peaceful.

Therefore, through dispassionate seeing there’s an alternative to bonding to the caused and conditioned flux of sense-consciousness. Replacing that outflow with kindness, sharing and other aspects of goodwill is definitely more satisfying. So the shift to dispassion affects our source of well-being and of long-term motivation. It even changes who we seem to be.

The flood of becoming is more difficult. Our social lives run on it; this outflow carries the future, the past and our sense of identity. But when you look at experience directly, it’s obvious that all we are or have is arising in awareness right now; our memories happen now, the results of what we’ve been involved with happen now, and our projected future happens now. Yes, we have to plan and retain information; we have to acquire knowledge and adequate resources to keep going … but if one acknowledges that time brings with it uncertainty about the future (uncertainty being another feature of anicca), and the recognition that things are never complete (dukkha again), such an acknowledgement steadies and cools intention. As the future is always uncertain, we choose to pause, deepen and clear the blur of assumptions and expectations rather than keep running on autopilot. The mind then operates in an immediacy that allows its full resources to gather, and to be more discerning about specific action – or non-action.

Furthermore, this review of becoming means that the self-referencing that ripples on the tide of action can arise free of worry, expectations or compulsive duty. This gives the mind a way of lessening some of the tangles of identity, while getting a feel for the natural arising of good qualities. For example, faith and clarity arise ‘by themselves’: the less of the habitual ‘me’, the more the spaciousness and ease. In a world of unknowables, this is directly knowable – and positive.

Of course, in relationship to others, we orient around becoming a recognizable and reliable individual, even though heart and mind are ever-fluctuating. It’s good to have a responsible approach towards being with others. How then to handle that sense of becoming someone? How to distinguish between skilful motivation and craving? True enough, chanda and taṇhā do get mixed up – what starts as aspiration and motivation can easily slide into ‘I have to do … everyone depends on me … got to make it work!’ In the vortex of kamma, an understandable craving for a feel-good result has crept in – and ‘future’, ‘solid result’ and ‘self and other’ attempt to sail across an ocean that’s marked by anicca, dukkha, anattā. Stress and suffering are on their way.

This is because the wished-for results cannot be guaranteed. Maybe you don’t have the skills right now, or the scenario isn’t open to your input. Even the Buddha could only point the way – and his own cousin tried to kill him seven times. So he didn’t always get positive reviews. Therefore, be on the lookout for an intention that’s hungry for results, or expects people to understand and agree with you. That’s craving. Also, be attentive when circumstances change. Maybe there’s the loss of a partner or a job, maybe there’s illness or disability, maybe the great plan gets capsized, or the ability to make things happen is checked. Whatever … when the way forward gets blocked, it’s time to breathe in … and out … and attend to the citta. To the extent that there’s becoming, sorrow, anxiety or irritation wells up. But this can also be a learning moment: to what extent was I invested in the future? What condition was I relying on to be steady and “stable? Give deep attention to the citta: that’s the correct motivation; giving ungrounded attention to the feeling invites the taṇhā that will throw you into suffering. Seen in this way, the characteristic of dukkha is a pointer not to the cynicism of not-becoming, but to cultivating wisdom. Learn about dispassionate action. With that you act, but realize your actions occur in a field that’s not under your control.

Operating within a dynamic and sensitive context takes balance. But as you cultivate that balance, you get more sensitive to the things that go wrong, or the internal discord. The mind, or rather the force of becoming in the mind, tries to change all that, set things straight, tidy and right. So, it operates with the search tag: ‘What next? What should I do? What is right?’, as if there could be a knowable next, or an ultimately right way of doing things. Thus, it creates an anxious, agitated self – one who thinks that the unsatisfactori-ness of mind-states, actions, plans and people is going to get cured by their actions – ‘and then I can settle and be happy.’ This strategy never succeeds. The trajectory of becoming is always towards suffering, stress and a self who’s stuck in it.

The Unborn
‘There is, monks, an unborn, unbecome, unmade, unconditioned. If, monks, there were not that unborn, unbecome, “unmade, unconditioned, you could not know an escape here from the born, become, made, and conditioned. But because there is an unborn, unbecome, unmade, unconditioned, therefore you do know an escape from the born, become, made, and conditioned.’
(Udāna 8:3; Bhikkhu Ānandajoti, trans.)

Motivation, however, can aim towards meeting the unknown and fallible with a dispassionate openness; and it can gather the skills and strengths to do so. Present-moment agility and quick-wittedness are the qualities of a citta that’s fit for work. Just as someone walking a tightrope can’t succeed if they think of how they should walk or whether they’re good enough, so one has to switch from the thirst for becoming to the desire for balance. That desire, that Dhamma-motivation, is to steer the mind out of becoming and not-becoming, into a balance where the fog of ignorance and craving can lift.

Any scenario will suggest a range of possible outcomes; if there is ignorance, if I’m coming from a self-view, my attempts to make the possible into the actual run down the track of ‘me’ and ‘mine’. Then I have a fixed idea of a desirable outcome, I get impatient, even forceful, and probably overlook a few details or even people … so the flow of becoming creates a forceful self who feels frustrated and offends others.

A better way to proceed is to put aside time and identity, steadily. Can you relax the time boundary and its pressure, and trust good qualities to do their work? Can you go easy on what you should, will, or will never be; or what you feel others want you to be? As a memo: whatever you do, you could have done it differently; whatever you do, some will like it and some won’t; whoever they are, there will be a degree of confusion, conflict and separation in relationship to them.

You can discharge any waves of uncertainty and the pressures they can bring up by extending mindful awareness over the bodily and emotional effects. Then you have a base from which to step back from compulsive programs. As you sense the steadying effect of that, you’ve done the first important thing. You’ve checked the tide; and as a more dispassionate awareness opens around the feeling, the spin of doubt, pressure and agitation calms down. Then the citta can open.

With that clearer view, you can notice that what has become – that is, the present mind-state or scenario – is just that. It has a good or bad quality, but it isn’t an identity. If it were an identity, you’d be in that state from birth to death. Can you witness that quality rather than become it? What you can recognize is that it’s not the changeable and stress-inducing characteristics of conditioned qualities that are the problem you can solve – it’s the belief that they should be otherwise. Because  of this ignorance, there is becoming this or that – and no peace. Moreover, the problem isn’t that one hasn’t become an utterly effective and unwavering person, it’s the belief that body, feeling, perception, programs/formations and consciousness could assemble one. That’s another fantasy.

The Buddha called these beliefs (along with the belief that true beauty lies in the realm of sense-contact) ‘distortions’ (vipallāsā).[54] To get free from these distortions entails relating to what arises in line with the characteristics of anicca, dukkha, anattā – and to maintain that view as you act. This destroys craving – this is relinquishment (vossagga), this is letting go; it is the springboard to the Unconditioned.

Can you acknowledge at the end of a day that whatever becoming has occurred for you, it’s just that, and not a person, not a fixed state? That the praise, the blame, the elation and dejection are perceptions, felt meanings, patterns and programs? Meet them, know them, then settle the mind. Like this, you relinquish. Can you mentally share whatever good has arisen, and release wherever dukkha has got stuck? Like this, you relinquish. Can you begin the day with a dedication towards bringing skilful qualities into being, commit to that and learn to not ask for results? If you develop a practice like that, do it more often: whatever comes into being in the morning … in the afternoon … in the evening – you relinquish it, you let it go. Or around scenarios: whatever arises with this project … with this event … with this conversation … And so on. Even as you’re doing it, in every act, relinquish the actor. This check-in with relinquishment restrains ignorance, so one’s awareness can shift to being a presence through which qualities can stream in response to what arises. The liberated citta doesn’t impose, or require, a lot of conditions.

Continued next week, 12 June 2025

kalyāṇamitta

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto

Kalyāṇamitta is the Buddhist concept of “admirable friendship” within community life, applicable to both monastic and householder relationships. One involved in such a relationship is known as a “good friend”, “virtuous friend”, “noble friend” or “admirable friend” (kalyāṇa-mitta, -mitra)

Kalyāṇamitta as a Practice

The direct practice of kalyāṇamitta begins with finding someone who models stability, empathy and clarity. A person who does more than say some well-meaning things, but also has the capacity to listen deeply without getting fazed or reactive. If you resonate with such a person, other qualities flow on: you meet, take in and feel the gist of what the speaker is saying. There is a non-attached engagement. Sometimes this is all that’s needed: to be able to speak, be heard and give deep attention to what occurred as one spoke. A kalyāṇamitta may or may not act as a teacher, but in any case, has the respect to not barge in with lectures and ‘what you need to do is …’ This is because a true kalyāṇamitta understands that the citta can only learn from its own deep attention; that the purpose of wise companionship is to help us to listen to ourselves with dispassion. Kalyāṇamitta is thus about encouraging the Dhamma that’s ‘knowable in oneself’ (paccataṃ) and not about giving lectures.[48]

The trust of another helps us to learn to trust our own capacities. It is an act of faith. Otherwise, becoming and conceit come up with the assumption that there’s something wrong with ‘me’, and I have to do something to make myself other than I am. This self-view can’t succeed. But clearing ignorance and imbalance “doesn’t happen through simply affirming that ‘there’s nothing wrong with me.’ That’s just another self-view. Moreover, conceiving based on fortunate states such as ‘I am a genius/enlightened’ keeps needing more of the affirmation, approval or adoration of others. That’s also imbalanced. Clearing these imbalances only comes through suspending the assumption ‘I am’ for a while, and giving deep attention to qualities and energies that cause or release stress. So, if you want to be a true Dhamma friend to another, encourage this – and model it.

As heart-energy settles, you can extend the quality of that trust and benevolent intent into all the tissues and structures of the body; then extend that into the space around you: ‘May all this be free from harm or stress.’ You can then more specifically extend that to impressions of other people, especially those who mean a lot to you, both good and bad: either friends, or people you have difficulties with. Through meeting the qualities that come up as you attend to self and others, you cultivate value; you appreciate, release and forgive.

The mind that looks out from that fullness of heart can also inquire into any conceit, any notion of ‘I am this’, ‘she is that’. Is the president that commanding entity that we like or dislike when he or she is asleep, or sick? How would we see them if they lost a child? Who is the comedian when they’re in deep stress about their mother’s dementia? How evil is the criminal who acted like that because they were abused by their parents, had little education and felt left behind by the mainstream of society? And, to bring the focus back home, when the mind/heart is conceiving people in critical or stereotyped ways, how deep is the attention?

If we’re brooding over the faults of others, the heart is constricted and it can’t access the energy that supports full awareness. If there is a negative conceit, our hearts narrow and close down. On the other hand, a conceiving that blindly adores other people reduces discernment and sets us up for wanting more contact with the one who will make life perfect. Then again, we may indeed wish to avoid relationship altogether – but that sets up another negative relational quality. After all, we do share the planet with seven billion (and rising) other humans, and there’s only so many dogs, mountain tops and computer games from which you can derive a comfortable relational experience before there are problems with the neighbours, with the weather and with your own mind. The good times alone won’t set you free. What is needed?

A Mutual Life

Any self-view needs some solid ground, some ideological viewpoint or fixed mood or context to stand on; it craves solidity in what changes. And what is the success rate of that search? Do you ever get five stars? Does anyone? Is there such a thing as a self that has become solid? And yet is any self contented with being an ever-changing flow of qualities? The only free space and open ground is in the heart that knows letting go.

What hinders access to that are fetters (saṃyojana) that form a self, where there are only changeable qualities. These fetters come in clusters, of which the first three – ‘personality (or ‘self’) view’ (sakkāya-diṭṭhi), ‘uncertainty’ (vicikiccā) and ‘fixation on systems and customs’ (sīlabbattapāramāsa) – bind the heart to personhood. And personhood is insecure. That is, our personality arises dependent on social interactions that are always subject to change, so we can never guarantee that we’ll arrive at a comfortable and approved-of state in the future. Hence uncertainty and anxiety arise – so, to make our lives predictably “steady, we grab hold of socially-approved systems and customs. The result of this tangle is stress – because all conditions change.

In terms of Dhamma practice, these fetters bring around clinging to the neat structure of one’s ideas rather than penetrating the nature of thought and concepts. This provides the individual with an intellectual standpoint, but far from releasing the mind, it limits the Dhamma to that person’s opinions. If, on the other hand, we disengage from trains of thought and attend to thinking as a process, we notice that ideas dazzle and stir the mind; they are attractive and they do give rise to a sense of certainty – but in themselves they come and go. They only provide certainty if they’re held onto – and that both generates conflict in those who have other ideas, and tightens energy in the head. In the grip of ideas, people can get dogmatic and generally obnoxious.

A deeper sense of confidence in the Dhamma arises through seeing things as they are; that they arise and pass into something wordless and open. Since that experience is peaceful, the restrictive and constructed nature of conceptual experience loses its attraction. Thus, there can be a letting go of fixed positions, and the arising of harmony and balance.

The search for a secure standpoint for the self is also the drive behind bonding to systems and customs. We get to know the ‘right way’ of doing things, and even of practising Dhamma, and the mind hangs onto it and looks down on others. The ‘right way’ is the way I see things; it’s the proper, fair and effective system or custom according to my conditioning – and there’s a self-view in that. This view doesn’t always stand out; it’s not as if we are mentally intoning ‘mine, me, this is my self.’ In fact, it’s often the opposite: as Buddhists, we think: ‘this is not “me” or “mine” – but things should be this way, this is right.’ This is because the way things should be, or seem to be, qualifies how I sense myself – as in touch with the truth or on the winning team. If I uphold that ‘right way’, then I gain value. I may even gain others’ respect by sacrificing my apparent self for the sake of the ideals that I have projected onto the group. But we can get attached to that self-denial view, and then feel affronted when others aren’t as heroic. ‘How come she’s so laid-back and finding it all so easy!’ ‘Why isn’t he practising as intensely as I am!’

For example, from time to time we have people in the monastery who are very diligent in the meditation hall … but difficult to work with in the kitchen because they have to have things done their way. That’s not right, is it? Yet generally their actions are based on what they find to be the most efficient way of operating in order to provide food for the community. So that sounds right. … Then maybe someone talks during times of silence … which is wrong! But they felt that someone needed some contact, or that some light-heartedness was good medicine. … Action based on compassion sounds like a wise point of view – right? Then someone wants to sit when it’s walking time, walk when it’s a sitting. … Maybe that’s what’s right for them. But we might feel: ‘We had an agreement to operate in a certain way to strengthen the group resolve and minimize disturbance, and people are expected to let go of their personal perspectives.’ That’s right too! ‘Right’ carries a very powerful energy, doesn’t it? You can get really convinced and really angry with ‘right’! But when that righteousness rushes in, notice the loss of groundedness, empathy and clarity. We swap relating to our fellow-humans for clinging to views.

Now I’m not saying that matters of behaviour aren’t to be addressed; that’s one of the values of spiritual friendship. But it’s the values of integrity and empathy that have to be steadily practised, not clinging to ‘law and order’. Nor is this about understanding others, or being understood by others: that also is an impossible wish. No one can view another’s kammically conditioned mind-set; it’s difficult enough to get some insight into one’s own. The correct approach is to replace these aspects of self-view with a mutual exploration of what arises in any situation or with any intention. This is right view: it rules out proliferating over a specific piece of behaviour and turning it into the view that ‘only this is right,’ or ‘she’s one of those, or ‘if I follow the rules I’ll be safe and no-one will find fault with me.’ Not so: the fault-finding mind will object to your smile, or to what you didn’t say, or to your non-smile. Believe me, it happens!

All of us like to have things go ‘my way’ because we know how to operate within those parameters. But that isn’t going to get us out of our habits and kammic programs. Sooner or later people and events won’t follow ‘my way’; so, the unawakened mind feels disoriented; then latent ill-will arises, to flavour the heart with blaming ourselves, others, the leader, the past – and so on. Therefore, we practise kalyāṇamitta and develop trust. Otherwise, we can’t get past our attachment to our position, or certainty, or being in control. The heart contracts and clamps down, and the end result is the proliferating program of ‘should be’, which leads to frustration, irritation – and views about self and other.

To be continued

the relational vortex

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto

‘Self and other’ is a divisive program, for sure. And it begins with birth. With the arising of consciousness (viññāṇa), our sense of being something is established on the sense of being within something: a womb, a family, a nation, a world-order and so on. This is how it happens: operating through the physical senses and the object-defining mind, ‘consciousness’ is ‘consciousness of’ – a sight, sound, touch, thought and so on. Consciousness therefore gives rise to contact. With contact, comes the experience of being contacted – heart-impressions occur. Thus, relational awareness, citta as ‘heart’, gets activated: the heart experiences feeling and felt sense, and wants to be safe, stable and comfortable. As the affect-and-response program of citta-saṇkhāra forms a subject that’s being affected by an object, it kindles a psychological craving to solidify into a subject who feels secure and comfortable. Then, as this craving for being something (bhava-taṇhā) is contextual, it orients around oneself and one’s body, oneself and one’s territory, oneself and one’s role or job – but above all, it orients around oneself and other people. We want to know who we and others are, and where we stand – not just to learn how to work together, but in order to establish a secure identity. From this relational vortex of ‘self and other’, there thus arises the notion of a personal self. Holding a body as a boundary, and being locked into programs that juggle with the variables of the social world, is self-view (sakkāya-diṭṭhi).

Becoming, Conceit and Proliferation

Craving to be or to become also extends into how secure I will be in the future, and into making notes on self-impressions from the past in order to determine ‘that’s who I am.’ This identity program begins as citta clings to my appearance and actions and “goes on to cling to what is felt, conceived and programmed. Then becoming gives rise to an identity, and ‘I am’ is born: ‘I am an ageing, middle-class man who can’t understand the internet.’ Or ‘I am a shy person when it comes to public gatherings.’ And as if that isn’t enough, the citta is also flooded by the urge to not be (vibhava-taṇhā) as in ‘I want to get out of this situation/mind-state/experience of being incompetent’; ‘let me not be seen.’ So, there can be tidal flows of ‘wanting to be’ and ‘wanting not to be’ as the urge to be accepted and liked by others builds up performance strategies and anxiety to become the winner, to the point where a person wants to be left alone or escape – through drink and drug if need be.

The heart is relational by nature and so the references and programs that get established through relationship are pivotal. If what we’re born into is giving us messages of welcome and trust, then our references and programs get formed on a foundation of basic confidence in being here. But if it’s the other way around … if we have been fed biases, exaggerations and falsehoods; if we’re told by our family or society that we’re worthless, a threat or an expendable burden – we become insecure and confused, and possibly violent. If we get the message that we have to be productive, intelligent and attractive – then even though we may personally acquire those qualities, we do so from the basis of anxiety, and hence still experience that ‘not good enough’ sense.

So, if our intrinsic worth isn’t valued, we have to seek value through achievement, know-how, physical appearance, rebellious independence and so on. In such cases, the relational basis is replaced by strong individuation – ‘do it and get it by yourself’ – with a weak feeling for sharing, empathy or integration with others. But how can a self be separate from others? Instead, the urge for a strong, successful and independent self is a condition for narcissism, arrogance and relational dysfunctionality. History is full of brilliant but neurotic geniuses, ego-centred powermongers, and psychopaths with formidable powers of mind.

It’s worse still if we can’t achieve value through our own individual efforts: we experience ourselves as worthless. And if the judge of self-worth is our own performance-driven psychology, there’s always a ‘better’ or ‘higher’ that we can imagine becoming. So, we never come out as winners. This loss of worth, or sense of being driven, can result in breakdowns, depression, substance abuse and even suicide. If, that is, the underlying relational quality is one of the desire to be a perfect self who gets their way, is never criticized and who feels understood.

Although such self-views are often the case in societies where there is considerable stress on individual achievement and little sense of innate belonging, not all societies operate this way. I remember reading an account of a game played by a tribe living in the Amazon basin. The British field-worker who was observing the game couldn’t understand the rules at first. He noticed that the players of the game would split into two teams, who were not necessarily equal in terms of numbers or apparent strength. Each team would grab a large log, and, hoisting it onto their shoulders, start running towards a point a hundred metres or so ahead. The logs also were not the same size or weight. As he watched, one team would draw ahead of the other, and as it did so, a member of the leading team would leave his or her team and join the other team. If a team was in the lead, members of that team would peel off and join the losing team. As the “finishing line drew into sight, the excitement would rise until the teams crossed the line, often with very little distance between them. Eventually the field-worker found out the aim of the race: it was to have both teams cross the line at the same time! That aim was carried out through attention and strenuous effort, but with an overriding benevolent intent to arrive at a place with no winners and no losers.[46]

Expanding our attention and intention to include others gives us plenty to work on. But bear in mind that relationship also includes how we relate to ourselves. One can avoid or suppress anxiety or self-criticism to a degree, but that gets more difficult to do when one meditates – if, that is, instead of jumping into a “meditation program, we open attention and listen in a receptive way. For many people, that open regard evokes uncertainty: ‘What should I do? How am I doing? What comes next?’ This is the uncertainty that also plays out in relationship with others: ‘Am I acceptable to him or her? What do they see me as?’ Then the thirst for becoming forms self and other based on anxiety.

This crystallization is what the Buddha called ‘conceit’ (māna), the process that weaves qualities that arise in one’s awareness into entities that apparently exist independently. Along with conceit come the comparisons and shifting hierarchies that form the view (diṭṭhi): ‘I’m this and the other is that.’ Or ‘I’m feeling this, but I should feel something else.’ And from that foundation of thirst, conceit and the view that ‘I’m this, but I should be that,’ the process called ‘proliferation’ (papañca) spins out narratives.[47]

The Good Friend

‘He gives what is beautiful,

hard to give,

does what is hard to do,

endures painful, ill-spoken words.

‘His secrets he tells you,

your secrets he keeps.

‘When misfortunes strike,

he doesn’t abandon you;

when you’re down & out,

doesn’t look down on you.

‘A person in whom these traits are found,

is a friend to be cultivated

by anyone wanting a friend.’

(A.7:36; Thanissaro, trans.)

Making and adopting views of self is a basis for mental kamma; and mental kamma, for good or bad, is no small matter. Moreover, for the unawakened heart, this mental kamma occurs by default; that is, the kamma of becoming and conceit takes its cues from the old kamma of the mental tendency that is dominant at the time. In the case of someone who grew up in a family or society that didn’t see value as being intrinsic to being human, but rather gave the message that what you are isn’t good enough – the tendency is to feel anxious and unwelcome. And that affects the way you configure yourself and others.

To give an example: somebody makes a remark and that stands out. We notice it and think: ‘That sounded hostile to me.’ Obviously, we are all programmed to be sensitive to threat; based on that program, a felt meaning of those words occurs that will shape our actions and reactions around that experience. (A similar process could of course occur over them not expressing the gratitude or the consideration that we expect: here the bias is our sensitivity around not being welcomed or respected.) In either case, if such impressions are not filtered by deep attention, the underlying bias is not revealed and checked: ‘True, there can be threat. But is this actually a threat, and what is threatened?’ ‘Does this really mean I am unwelcome?’

Bearing in mind the fact that a lot of actions are not accompanied by deliberate intention but by muddled impulses, a review is worthwhile. Otherwise, if there is inadequate attention to the qualities that are affecting the citta, the mind conceives self and other based on that felt meaning. Then it proliferates and magnifies the experience in line with the intensity of the initial impression. And we get overwhelmed with proliferating views – such as ‘deliberate’, ‘aimed at me’ and ‘he always’. A fatalist view can also get established: ‘I always have to put up with inconsiderate people.’

If we act and react psychologically, verbally or physically in accordance with these views, our minds stir up a sequence of thoughts and strategies that firm up the bias of those felt meanings. Eventually the process solidifies into a self-view: ‘I’m seen as stupid or weak’, ‘me, the despised, me the victim’, ‘him, that pushy, insensitive pig’. Old programs run out that define ourselves and others, and our attitudes and actions take shape around them. Thus, through unmediated engagement with a perception, an existing bias is confirmed, a self and other established, and the basis for dark kamma laid down.

We could see things another way. We could shrug off the incident and decide not to engage with our interpretation: the remark was just a remark. But more to the point is to put aside adjudicating over the situation, and instead look to clearing the proliferations. True enough, if we feel that others are being disrespectful or downright hostile – well, maybe they are! But can we refrain from the proliferations that stick in our heart and add more negative patterns? What is more accurate is not that ‘she’s always like this’ but that ‘this habitual experience (of mistrust, etc.) arises when she says that, or when I look at that expression on her face.’

Through attending deeply, you can notice that although proliferation floods the citta with details, it deprives you of full presence: steady bodily presence gets lost, as does your ability to respond carefully and mindfully. That loss is a mark of ignorance; it robs you of groundedness, empathy and clarity. What is needed then is mindfulness of the heart, with the patience to allow a compassionate response – to self and other as these arise in awareness.

To be continued

four bases of clinging

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‘Selected excepts from Kamma and the End of Kamma’ by Ajahn Sucitto

This world, Kaccāna, for the most part depends upon a duality – upon the notion of existence and the notion of nonexistence. But for one who sees the origin of the world as it really is with correct wisdom, there is no notion of nonexistence in regard to the world. And for one who sees the cessation of the world as it really is with correct wisdom, there is no notion of existence in regard to the world.

‘“All exists”: Kaccāna, this is one extreme. “All does not exist”: this is the second extreme. Without veering towards either of these extremes, the Tathagata teaches the Dhamma by the middle: With ignorance as condition, volitional formations [saṇkhārā] come to be; with volitional formations as a condition, “consciousness. … Such is the origin of this whole mass of suffering. But with the remainderless fading away and cessation of ignorance comes cessation of volitional formations; with the cessation of volitional formations, cessation of consciousness. … Such is the cessation of this whole mass of suffering.”’

(S.12:15; B. Bodhi, Trans.)

……………………………………..

One thing led to another, and after three years of practising in solitude, I returned to England for a visit. I stopped off in London, where Ajahn Sumedho was leading a small group of monks. In that community, there was more emphasis on action and interaction, “on a detailed training in terms of ethics and frugality, and on mindfulness with regard to using requisites. There was a lot of that kind of attention given to daily life; no competition, and no achievement. It demanded energy: all-night group meditation was a weekly practice, with its too brief highs and too long lows. ‘Patient resolve’ was the watchword. All this broadened equanimity and deepened awareness. And we were all in it together, so that generated friendship – even when people got stirred up and argumentative at times. That was understood and accepted, and we were encouraged to explore the cause of conflict and stress. The overall theme was to be mindful of whatever the mind brought up and investigate where the suffering was. It made life into a practice of pāramī; I made a resolution to stay with it – even though that meant getting stirred up pretty often. It was easy to see and feel where the challenge lay: clinging to my way and wishes. Holding on goes deep.

…………………………………..

The Buddha spoke of clinging as having four successively deeper levels: 1) clinging to sense objects, 2) to rules and customs, 3) to views, and 4) to impressions of what we are.

The first is fairly obvious – it’s about hanging on to possessions, and feeding on sights, sounds and the rest of it. In the monastery, with the limitation on sense-input, and with a good amount of physical work going on, most of this intensity would gather around the one meal of the day, or the hot drink and occasional sweets at tea-time. The very energy of clinging to the felt meaning of getting fed would sometimes send so much energy through the system that to patiently wait for everyone to gather, patiently file through to receive the food, patiently wait for everyone to get back … then, after chanting the meal-time blessings, to patiently wait for the senior person to begin eating – was quite an achievement! The food itself was nothing special – sometimes I hardly noticed what it was. Moreover, the degree of satisfaction derived from eating was nothing fantastic and was offset by feeling dull afterwards. The passion was all around the idea, the felt meaning, of eating. But that impression of gratification, and the appealing nature of the food could shift within minutes. On contemplating the whole issue, it was apparent that the intensity was just around the set of feelings and drives that clinging made solid and real – for a while. Clinging was just clinging to its own interpretations.

I could experience the same clinging occurring in terms of the second level of clinging – with reference to the rules and customs of the monastery. Everyone uses rules and customs to regulate their lives or occupations: forms of etiquette, customs around what food to eat at what time on what day of the week, or around how I like my office to be arranged, as well as religious observances and social taboos. But there’s a tendency to go into automatic, or to get dogmatic about one’s own system. One feeling I had about committing to Buddhist practice was to get out of this – to be more spontaneous, to live in the here and now. But after about three years with nothing to do, nothing to belong to, and therefore nothing to be spontaneous about, I really appreciated things like morning chanting every day, observances around handling and washing your alms-bowl, and a training in conventions that helped to keep me focused in daily life in a way that wasn’t about me achieving or being rewarded. The training just kept placing awareness ‘here’ in what I was doing.

It was the same with the system of meditation that I was using; even if I wasn’t always good at it, it defined where I was. I got to feel solid. But then there’d be a hunger to get even more solid; to be part of a highly-disciplined outfit and be someone who could sit like a rock with unwavering mindfulness of breathing. So, the snag that I hit was that a subtle condescension crept in for people who weren’t so solid, or couldn’t keep up; and an outright dismissal of those ‘here and now’ types who were sloppy and clearly had no sense for resolution.

However, Ajahn Sumedho, the leader of what was supposed to be the crack troop, did from time to time cancel routines, either if he thought people were struggling, or just for a break. Or maybe it was just for us to see what our minds did. He also lessened the intensity of some of the observances, allowing an early-morning mug of porridge because some people weren’t so well … And as for a system of meditation, although he sat in meditation a lot, he didn’t use much more of a technique than a basic focus on breathing for starters. The main theme was one of letting go.

It was a complete turn-around from how I had been practising, so it was very confusing for a few years, but it was to the point, and very direct. Let go of clinging. Yes, you do get to recognize that taking hold of a system, firming up and getting righteous about it, carries the same feel and passion that you can get around a bar of chocolate. It’s clinging … and it means you’re about to suffer. And probably to inflict some suffering on someone else.

Much the same thing occurs with the next layer of clinging to views, typified as views of ‘becoming and not-becoming’. These are the ways we extend out of direct experience to conjure up a future. That is, we either add continuity, purpose and a trajectory in life, or deny that there is any purpose; we either get involved with action or development, or declare that nothing can really be done – that everything’s impermanent so there’s no point. This is the underlying view of ‘becoming/not-becoming’ (bhava-vibhava) that makes us unable to relate to the ongoing and uncertain nature of conditions. Those views solidify and spin, sometimes with great conviction. They carry the passion and thirst that initiate kamma, so you don’t get out of cause and effect by following their signals.[38] The harder you work at getting things finished and solid, the more that craving for becoming sets up new goals. But saying that there’s no goal, that it’s all an illusion and let’s not bother with the future – also has its negative effects. Failure to consider cause and effect has definitely affected and continues to affect our environment. Results inevitably proceed from action. So, the more immediate goal is to find balance; and act from there.

Our attempts at getting enlightened can follow the becoming/not-becoming bias. Is it about having the Ultimate Experience of Deathlessness; or is it about the Final Cessation of Nibbāna? Either way, the clinging to these ideas comes from views that configure either some Timeless Ground of Being or a Blissful Oblivion as the goal. And these depend on whether the self-view inclines towards becoming or towards not-becoming. We probably switch from one to the other “dependent on whether we’re feeling upbeat or fed-up, or just as our energies fluctuate. Of course, it doesn’t make sense because the underlying bias varies: one moment we want an experience, and the next we want to get away from experiencing anything. A good question to ask dispassionately is: ‘Who’s doing that?’  and that takes us to the fourth layer of clinging – clinging to self. Clinging to the tendency of becoming or not-becoming generates the self who will be, or who will be eliminated. But any idea of self arises within awareness. And it changes all the time, such as from confident and relaxed to anxious and tense. Notice the itch and the thirst to be successful – or even a failure – a s long as you’re being something. “As this urge affects the mind with regard to any form, any thought and any scenario, so feelings and impressions get clung to and become solidified into a self who is the agent or victim of the world. And that world, whether it be a sublime, immaterial ‘Ultimate Reality’, or the ‘authentic, pure Buddhist tradition’, or the benighted and unjust world of geopolitics, is then regarded as a foundation for a view and inclination with regard to the world it’s created. Essentially, ‘self’ and ‘world’ arise interdependently as two ends of the same designation process; my self is embedded in my world. With this, skills and advantages get tainted with conceit and the urge for more, and negative conditions arouse despond or irritation. There’s plenty of room for suffering, and no end to the goings-on that occur around identification.  So, the four bases give us windows through which to contemplate clinging. In themselves, material food and the rest of it are useful. Rules and customs are useful guides, and in order to do anything well, you have to have a point of view and take into account your own energies, inclinations and skills. But there is also a need to witness and contain the passion and clinging around all this. This is the purpose of cultivating pāramī: to check, witness and move through the mind’s assumptions and resistances. Then, if you stay focused at the place where the mind lets go, there is a sense of ease and spaciousness. You get a glimpse of non – clinging.

However, you don’t resolve and clear these programs with pāramī alone. Cultivating pāramī develops one’s intent to the point where one can have a choice over whether to act upon them or not; but the tendencies remain as potentials in the mind, ready to engender more problems. To clear the tendencies of ignorance and becoming takes the factors of awakening (bojjhanga.)

To be continued