Given the Buddha’s teaching on “not-self” (anattā), which seems to deny my existence as an individual person, what foundation is there for my sense of personal unity? For I need a sense of unity in order to function in the world. Otherwise, I’m still here, but fragmented, broken into conflicting desires and impulses.

In the discourse where he introduces his teaching of not-self, the Anattalakkhaṇa Sutta (Characteristics of not-self), the Buddha speaks of the practice of not-self as the recognition of any experience as: “This is not mine;” “I am not this;” “This is not myself.”

This practice is ruthless. Whatever I experience is neither mine nor me. Everywhere I look, I find absence. Wherever I look, I don’t find someone I can identify with as me. And the Buddha does nothing, in this discourse, to fill this gap. The teaching is relentlessly negative — not mine, not this, not myself. Nothing is left standing. Read More...

Some more reflections on mindfulness as memory, and time. Specifically, the question: What do we mean as “the present?” As a meditation teacher, I speak about “the present” a great deal. Hardly surprising, as all of the work of meditation takes place there. Or here, I should say. So in my professional capacity I speak a great deal about the present. A while ago I noticed that it is very difficult to do so without adding the word, “moment.” “The present” is “the present moment.” But is it? Read More...

Maha Kassapa, or Big Kassapa, was a senior disciple of the Buddha known for his asceticism. He lived in the forest, dedicating himself to practice and avoiding the social entanglements that were so much a part of the Buddha’s life. He had a reputation as a fierce disciplinarian, and in the tradition has come to represent tough, macho dharma.

Civara Sutta (The robe), found in Kassapa Samyutta, records Big Kassapa in the last phase of his life remembering his first encounter with the Buddha. Kassapa was a wealthy farmer who abandoned the world while still a young man after being suddenly overcome with dread by the deaths of so many small creatures that were an inevitable aspect of farming. He ordained himself, and marched off into the world of renunciation to seek enlightenment. Not long afterwards he met the Buddha on the road. The Buddha was himself a young man, his awakening still fresh. Kassapa immediately fell at the Buddha’s feet and declared himself his student. The Buddha wasted no time taking him on, and charged him with three key practices that were to define the rest of his life. The third of these practices is what concerns us here. The Buddha said:

Kassapa, you should train yourself in this way: “I will not abandon mindfulness immersed in body associated with joy. [sata-sahagata ca me kayagata-sati na vijahissati].” Read More...

This post has been a while coming. My apologies for the gap, but Life (notice the capital “L”) has been getting in the way, as it tends to do, and so this blog has been shamefully neglected. But we begin again, and return to mindfulness …

Mindfulness, as we have been seeing in previous posts, is much more than just “awareness.” It seems to be fashionable in contemporary dharma circles to assert the “non-judgemental” nature of mindfulness. Mindfulness, it is said, does not judge, but is simply aware. However, as we have seen with the Buddha’s image of the gatekeeper, which we first met in the Reading Buddha entry, mindfulness is much more than mere awareness. The gatekeeper of a fortress in a conflict zone is not of much use if she cheerfully admits a suicide bomber because she does not want to be “judgemental.” Her job is to recognise those passing through, so she can discern the difference between those who should be admitted and those who should not. In this post I would like to look at the question of mindfulness and its relationship to recognition.
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In this entry I would like to address the issue of mindfulness and its relationship to reflexive awareness. If we are looking for mindfulness, this is the area we need to examine. Along the way I’ll try to address some of the issues that have been raised in our discussions.

I take “reflexive” to mean bending back to oneself. How does reflexivity influence awareness? Normally, we are aware. We don’t have to make any special effort to be aware; we are simply aware. We see, hear, smell, touch, taste and think. Technically, we can say that it is the nature of mind to contact an object; to be aware of something. So far, so good. We are already aware. But are we aware that we are aware? Read More...

In my last post I looked at the relationship between mindfulness and memory, and in particular long term memory, for it is here that we find the development of “experience” in the sense of learning a skill over time. In other words, the link between mindfulness and wisdom. Today I would like to swing across to the relationship between mindfulness and short term memory, an association suggested by Ken’s comments. This relationship is found in the action of getting mindfulness started. How does the Buddha speak of the activity of beginning to be mindful? And what does this tell us about the nature of mindfulness? Read More...

Dear Folks

Taking up your questions and comments, I’d like to begin by reflecting on what we are doing here - or, at least, what I think I’m doing. Which is, reading Buddha. Ken, I liked your comment about chaos reflecting a state of affairs in which we perceive diversity without order, and wish to bring order. This pretty much sums up much of my relationship with the Buddha’s teaching. I find myself wishing to find order in it, to extract some kind of coherent meaning which would, in turn, enable me to read my own experience. And the other way round. In meditation, I seek to find some kind of order in experience, to “read” it, and thus extract meaning from it. For it seems to me that only by finding meaning can I find transformation.

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Ken, its good to hear from you. And to be reassured that someone out there is reading this.

Your description of life in an urban train station during an international journey raises the classic question of how meditation - generally thought of in terms of silence and withdrawal - relates to our routine experiences of chaotic situations. So let’s use that as the context of our discussion.

I’d like to start by raising a question: Why did the Buddha create a new technical term for meditation - “sati,” which we generally translate as “mindfulness” - if mindfulness means the same as awareness? For I notice that most people use the terms “mindfulness” and “awareness” synonymously. But are they the same? After all, the Buddha had a perfectly good word for “awareness” - vinnana, usually translated “consciousness.” So why invent another technical term? Read More...