Cây Giác Ngộ

Three steps of the Noble Eightfold Path are included in

mental development: (a) right effort, (b) right mindfulness, and

(c) right concentration. Together, these three encourage and

enable us to be self-reliant, attentive, and calm.

In its most general sense, right effort means cultivating a

confident attitude toward our undertakings. We can call right

effort “enthusiasm,” also. Right effort means taking up and pur-

suing our tasks with energy and a will to carry them through to

the end. It is said that we ought to embark on our tasks in the

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same way an elephant enters a cool lake when afflicted by the

heat of the midday sun. With this kind of effort, we can be suc-

cessful in whatever we plan to do, whether in our studies, careers, or practice of the Dharma.

In this sense, we might even say that right effort is the prac-

tical application of confidence. If we fail to put effort into our

various projects, we cannot hope to succeed. But effort must be

controlled, it must be balanced, and here we can recall the fun-

damental nature of the Middle Way and the example of the

strings of a lute. Therefore, effort should never become too tense,

too forced, and, conversely, it should not be allowed to become

lax. This is what we mean by right effort: a controlled, sustained, and buoyant determination.

Right effort is traditionally defined as fourfold: (1) the effort

to prevent unwholesome thoughts from arising, (2) the effort to

reject unwholesome thoughts once they have arisen, (3) the effort

to cultivate wholesome thoughts, and (4) the effort to maintain

wholesome thoughts that have arisen. This last is particularly

important, because it often happens that, even when we have

successfully cultivated some wholesome thought, it is short-lived.

Between them, these four aspects of right effort focus the energy

of the mind on our mental states. Their object is to reduce and

eventually eliminate the unwholesome thoughts that occupy our

minds, and to increase and establish firmly wholesome thoughts

as a natural, integral characteristic of our mental state of being.

Right mindfulness is the second step of the Noble Eightfold

Path included in mental development, and is essential even in

our ordinary, daily lives. Like the other teachings of the Buddha,

this can best be illustrated with examples from everyday life

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itself. Indeed, if you look at the discourses of the Buddha, you

will find that he consistently used examples that were familiar to

his audience. Thus we might do well to look at the importance

of mindfulness in our ordinary, mundane activities.

Mindfulness is awareness, or attention, and as such it means

avoiding a distracted or cloudy state of mind. There would be

many fewer accidents at home and on the road if people were

mindful. Whether you are driving a car or crossing a busy street,

cooking dinner or doing your accounts, it is done more safely

and effectively when you are attentive and mindful. The practice

of mindfulness increases our efficiency and productivity; at the

same time, it reduces the number of accidents that occur due to

inattention and general lack of awareness.

In the practice of the Dharma, mindfulness acts as a kind

of rein upon our minds. If we consider for a moment how our

minds normally behave, we will clearly understand the need for

some kind of rein, or control, in this context. Suppose that, as

you are reading this book, a gust of wind suddenly causes a win-

dow to slam shut somewhere in the house. I am sure most of

you would immediately turn your attention to the sound and,

at least for an instant, focus your mind on it. At least for that

instant, your mind would be distracted from the page. Similarly,

at almost every moment of our conscious lives, our minds are

running after objects of the senses. Our minds are almost never

concentrated or still. The objects of the senses that so capti-

vate our attention may be sights, sounds, or even thoughts. As

you drive down the street, your eyes and mind may be captured

by an attractive advertisement; while walking along the street,

catching the scent of a woman’s perfume, your attention may be

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momentarily drawn to it, and perhaps to the wearer. All these

objects of the senses are causes of distraction.

Therefore, to manage the effects of such distractions on our

minds, we need a guard that can keep our minds from becom-

ing too entangled with such sense objects and with the unwhole-

some mental states they can sometimes arouse. This guard is

mindfulness. The Buddha once told a story about two acrobats,

master and apprentice. On one occasion, the master said to the

apprentice, “You protect me, and I will protect you. In that way

we will perform our tricks, come down safely, and earn money.”

But the apprentice said, “No, master, that will not do. I will pro-

tect myself, and you protect yourself.” In the same way, each one

of us has to guard his or her own mind.

Some people may say this sounds rather selfish. What about

teamwork? But I think such doubts result from a fundamental

misunderstanding. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

A team is only as effective as its individual members. A team of

distracted people, incapable of discharging their own responsi-

bilities efficiently, will be an ineffective team. Similarly, to play

an effective role in relation to our fellow beings, we must first

guard our own minds. Suppose you have a fine car. You will

be careful to park it in a place where it will not be damaged by

another motorist. Even at work or at home, you will occasion-

ally look out the window to make sure the car is all right. You

will wash it often, and you will be certain to take it into the shop

for servicing at regular intervals. You will probably insure it for

a great deal of money. In the same way, each of us possesses one

thing far more valuable than anything else he or she may have:

a mind.

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Recognizing the value and importance of our minds, we

ought to guard them. This is mindfulness. This aspect of men-

tal development can be practiced anywhere and at any time.

Some people think meditation is too difficult to practice. They

may even be afraid to try it. Usually, such people are thinking

of formal meditation, that is, concentrating the mind while sit-

ting in meditation. But even if you are not ready to practice the

techniques of mental concentration, certainly right effort and

right mindfulness can and should be practiced by everyone. The

first two steps of mental development are simply (1) cultivat-

ing a confident attitude of mind, being attentive and aware; and

(2) watching your body and mind and knowing what you are

doing at all times.

As I write, at this very moment, with one corner of my mind

I can keep an eye on my mind. What am I thinking of? Is my

mind focused on the message I am trying to convey, or am I

thinking about what happened this morning, or last week, or

about what I will do tonight? I once heard a teacher remark that

if you are making a cup of tea, then at that moment, Buddhism

means making it well.

The heart of mental development is focusing the mind pre-

cisely on what you are doing at this very moment, whether it be

going to school, cleaning the house, or conversing with a friend.

No matter what you are doing, you can practice mindfulness.

The practice of mindfulness can be universally applied.

Traditionally, the practice of mindfulness has played an

important role in Buddhism. The Buddha called mindfulness

the one way to achieve the end of suffering. The practice of

mindfulness has also been elaborated with regard to four spe-

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cific applications: (i) mindfulness of the body, (ii) mindfulness

of feelings, (iii) mindfulness of consciousness, and (iv) mindful-

ness of objects of the mind. The four applications of mindfulness

continue to play an important role in the practice of Buddhist

meditation to this very day.

But let us go on to consider the third step of mental devel-

opment, namely, concentration, which is also sometimes called

“tranquillity,” or simply meditation. You will recall that we traced

the origins of meditation all the way back to the Indus Valley

civilization. Meditation, or concentration, has nothing to do

with frenzy or torpor, much less with a semiconscious or coma-

tose state. Concentration is merely the practice of focusing the

mind single-pointedly on an object. This object can be either

physical or mental. When complete, single-pointed concentra-

tion on an object is achieved, the mind becomes totally absorbed

in the object to the exclusion of all mental activity – distraction,

torpor, agitation, and vacillation. This is the objective of the

practice of right concentration: to concentrate the mind single-

pointedly on an object. Most of us have had intimations of this

kind of state of mind in our everyday lives. Occasionally, some-

thing approaching single-pointedness of mind occurs spontane-

ously, when listening to a piece of music or watching the sea or

sky. At such times you may experience a moment when the mind

remains single-pointedly absorbed in an object, sound, or form.

Concentration can be practiced in a number of ways. The

object of concentration may be visual (like a flame, an image, or a flower) or it may be an idea (such as love and compassion).

When you practice concentration, you focus the mind repeatedly

on the selected object. Gradually, this leads to the ability to rest

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the mind on the object without distraction. When this can be

maintained for a protracted period of time, you have achieved

single-pointedness of the mind.

It is important to note that this aspect of mental devel-

opment is best practiced with the guidance of an experienced

teacher, because a number of technical factors can condition your

success or failure. These include attitude, posture, and duration

and occasion of practice. It is difficult to get all these factors

right just by reading a book. Nonetheless, you need not become

a monk to practice this kind of meditation. You need not live

in a forest or abandon your daily activities. You can begin with

relatively short periods of meditation, as short as ten or fifteen

minutes a day.

Proficiency in this kind of meditation has two principal ben-

efits. First, it leads to mental and physical well-being, comfort,

joy, calm, and tranquillity. Second, it turns the mind into an

instrument capable of seeing things as they really are. Thus it

prepares the mind to attain wisdom.

The gradual development of the ability to see things as they

really are through the practice of meditation has been likened to

the development of special instruments by means of which we

can now see subatomic reality and the like. In the same way, if

we do not develop the potential of our minds through the culti-

vation of right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration,

our understanding of the real state of things will remain at best

intellectual knowledge. To turn our understanding of the Four

Noble Truths from mere book knowledge into direct experience, we have to achieve single-pointedness of the mind.

It is at this point that mental development is ready to turn

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its attention to wisdom. Now we can clearly see the particular

role of meditation in Buddhism. I touched on this briefly when

I spoke about the Buddha’s decision to leave the two teachers of

meditation, Alara Kalama and Uddaka Ramaputta, and of his

combination of concentration and wisdom on the night of his

enlightenment. Here, too, single-pointedness of mind by itself

is not enough. It is like sharpening a pencil before proceeding to

write, or sharpening an ax that we will use to cut off the trunk

of attachment, aversion, and ignorance. When we have achieved

single-pointedness of the mind, we are then ready to join con-

centration with wisdom in order to gain enlightenment.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Wisdom

With this chapter we will complete our survey of the steps

of the Noble Eightfold Path. In Chapter 5 and Chapter 6

we looked at the first two groups, or ways, of practice, those of

good conduct and mental development. Here we will look at the

third way of practice, which is wisdom. At this point we find

ourselves faced with an apparent paradox: in the list of eight

steps of the path, right understanding and right thought occur

first, yet in the context of the three ways of practice, the wisdom

group comes last. Why should this be?

Earlier, we used the analogy of mountain-climbing to help

explain the relationships among the steps of the path. When

you set out to climb a mountain, you must have the summit in

view. It is the sight of the summit that imparts the general direc-

tion to one’s steps. For this reason, even at the very beginning

of a climb, you must keep your eyes on the summit. Therefore,

right understanding is listed at the very beginning of the steps

of the path. Yet in practical terms, you have to climb the lower

slopes and scale the intermediate reaches before you can gain the

summit, which is the attainment of wisdom. In practical terms,

therefore, wisdom comes only at the end of your practice of the

path.

Wisdom is described as the understanding of the Four Noble

Truths, the understanding of interdependent origination, and the

like. What we mean when we say this is simply that the attain-

ment of wisdom is the transformation of these doctrinal items

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from mere objects of intellectual knowledge into real, personal

experience. In other words, we want to change our knowledge

of the Four Noble Truths and the like from mere book learning

into actual, living truth. This goal is accomplished first through

the cultivation of good conduct, and then specially through the

cultivation of mental development.

Anyone can read in a book about the meaning of the Four

Noble Truths, interdependent origination, and so forth, but this

does not mean he or she has attained wisdom. The Buddha him-

self said that it was through failing to understand the Four Noble

Truths and interdependent origination that we have all gone on

in this cycle of birth and death for so long. Obviously, when he

said this, he meant something deeper than simple failure to be

acquainted intellectually with these items of doctrine.

The term “understanding” must thus be taken in the sense of

right understanding, that is to say, direct and immediate under-

standing. It can be likened to a simple act of perception, like

seeing a patch of blue color. Perhaps this is why the language

of seeing is so often used to describe the attainment of wisdom.

We speak of wisdom in terms of “seeing the truth” or “seeing

things as they really are” because the attainment of wisdom is

not an intellectual or academic exercise: it is understanding, or

“seeing,” these truths directly. When this kind of direct under-

standing of the nature of reality is gained, it is equivalent to the

attainment of enlightenment. This opens the door to freedom

from suffering and to nirvana.

In Buddhism, wisdom is the key to the realization of the

goal of the religion. In some religions, we find that faith is

paramount; in other traditions, meditation is supreme. But in

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Buddhism, faith is preliminary and meditation is instrumental. The real heart of Buddhism is wisdom.

Two steps of the Noble Eightfold Path are included in the

wisdom group: (1) right understanding, and (2) right thought.

Right understanding can be said to mean seeing things as they

really are – understanding the real truth about things, rather

than simply seeing them as they appear to be. What this means

in practical terms is insight, penetrative understanding, or see-

ing beneath the surface of things. If we wanted to explain this in

doctrinal terms, we would have to speak about the Four Noble

Truths, interdependent origination, impermanence, impersonal-

ity, and so forth. But for the moment, let us just talk about the

means of gaining right understanding, leaving the contents of

that understanding for another occasion. Here, again, the scien-

tific attitude of the Buddha’s teaching is evident, because when

we examine the means of acquiring right understanding, we find

that we begin with objective observation of the world around us

and of ourselves. Moreover, objective observation is joined by

inquiry, examination, and consideration.

In the course of acquiring right understanding, we find that

there are two types of understanding: (i) understanding that

we acquire by ourselves, and (ii) understanding that we acquire

through others. The latter consists of truths that we are shown

by others. Ultimately, these two types of understanding merge

because, in the final analysis, real understanding (or, let us say,

right understanding) has to be our own. In the meantime, we

can, however, distinguish between the understanding we achieve

through simple observation of the data of everyday experience and

the understanding we achieve through study of the teachings.

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Just as, in the case of our personal situations, we are encour-

aged to observe objectively the facts with which we are presented

and then consider their significance, so, when we approach the

teachings of the Buddha, we are encouraged first to study and

then to consider and examine them. But whether we are talk-

ing about observation and inquiry into the truth about our per-

sonal experience or about the study and consideration of texts,

the third and final step in this process of acquiring knowledge is

meditation. It is at this point in the process of acquiring know-

ledge that the two types of understanding I alluded to earlier

become indistinguishable.

To summarize, the means of acquiring right understand-

ing are as follows: (1) on the first stage, you have to observe and

study; (2) on the second stage, you have to examine intellectually

what you have observed and studied; and (3) on the third stage,

you have to meditate on what you have examined and deter-

mined intellectually earlier. Let us use a practical example. Say

we intend to travel to a certain destination. To prepare ourselves

for the journey, we acquire a road map that shows the route we

must follow to reach our destination. First we look at the map

for directions; then we have to review what we have observed,

examining the map to be sure we have understood the indica-

tions it gives. Only then can we actually make the journey to our

intended destination. The final step in this process – making the

actual journey – may be likened to meditation.

Alternatively, suppose you have bought a new piece of equip-

ment for your home or office. It is not enough to read the instruc-

tions for its use once through. They must be reread and exam-

ined closely to be certain you understand what they mean. Only

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when you are sure you have understood them properly can you

proceed to operate the new piece of equipment. The act of oper-

ating the equipment successfully is analogous to meditation. In

the same way, to attain wisdom we must meditate on the know-

ledge that we have acquired through observation or study and

further verified intellectually by means of examination. On the

third stage of the process of acquiring right understanding, the

knowledge we have gained previously becomes part of our liv-

ing experience.

Next, we might spend a few moments considering the appro-

priate attitude to cultivate when approaching the teaching of the

Buddha. It is said that, in doing so, we must avoid three flaws, which are explained with the example of a vessel. In this context,

we are the vessel, while the teaching is what has to be poured

into it.

Now, suppose first that the vessel is covered with a lid: obvi-

ously, we will not be able to pour anything into it. This is anal-

ogous to the situation of someone who listens to the teaching

with a closed mind, that is to say, a mind that is already made

up. In such circumstances, the Dharma cannot enter into and

fill his mind.

Again, suppose we have a vessel with a hole in the bottom:

if we try to fill it with milk, the liquid simply runs out the hole.

This is analogous to someone who does not retain what he hears, so that no amount of teaching is of any use.

Finally, suppose we fill the vessel with fresh milk before

checking to see that it is clean, and there is some spoiled milk

left in it from the previous day: the fresh milk that we pour into

the vessel will naturally spoil as well. In the same way, if some-

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one listens to the teaching with an impure mind, the teaching

will be of no benefit. For example, someone who listens to the

Dharma for selfish purposes, say because he wants to gain honor

and recognition, is like a vessel already tainted with impurities.

We must all try to avoid these three flaws when we approach

the teaching of the Buddha. The correct attitude to adopt in lis-

tening to the Dharma is that of a patient who pays careful atten-

tion to the advice of his physician. Here the Buddha is like the

physician, the teaching functions as the medicine, we are the

patient, and the practice of the teaching is the means by which

we can be cured of the disease of the afflictions (attachment, aversion, and ignorance), which is the cause of our suffering.

We will surely achieve some degree of right understanding if we

approach the study of the Dharma with this attitude.

Right understanding itself is often divided into two aspects, or levels: an ordinary level, and a higher one. In Chapter 4,

I mentioned the goals that Buddhism offers, which also belong

to two different levels: the goal of happiness and prosperity

belongs to this life and the next, while the goal of freedom, or

nirvana, is the ultimate aim of practice. The ordinary level of

right understanding corresponds to this first, mundane goal of

the practice of Buddhism, while the higher level of right under-

standing corresponds to the ultimate goal of Buddhist practice.

The first, ordinary aspect of right understanding is con-

cerned with correct appreciation of the relationship between

cause and effect, and pertains to moral responsibility for our

behavior. Briefly stated, this means that we will experience the

effects of our actions sooner or later. If we act well – preserving

the values of respect for life, property, truth, and so forth – we

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will experience the happy effects of our good actions: in other

words, we will enjoy happiness and fortunate conditions in this

and in the next life. Conversely, if we act badly, we will expe-

rience unhappiness, misery, and unfortunate conditions in this

life and in future lives.

The second, higher aspect of right understanding is con-

cerned with seeing things as they really are, and pertains to the

ultimate goal of the teaching of the Buddha. What do we mean

when we say “see things as they really are”? Again, doctrinal

answers can be given: to see things as they really are can mean

seeing things as impermanent, as interdependently originated, as

impersonal, and so forth. All these answers are correct. All have

something to say about seeing things as they really are. But to

arrive at an understanding of this first step – and, in a sense, the

last step – of the Noble Eightfold Path, we must look for some-

thing that all these doctrinal expressions of right understanding

have in common. What we find is that all these descriptions of

the meaning of right understanding are opposed to ignorance, bondage, and entanglement in the cycle of birth and death.

The Buddha’s attainment of enlightenment was essentially

an experience of the destruction of ignorance. This experience

is most frequently described by the Buddha himself in terms of

understanding the Four Noble Truths and interdependent orig-

ination, both of which are concerned with the destruction of

ignorance. In this sense, ignorance is the central problem for

Buddhism. The key conception in both the Four Noble Truths

and interdependent origination is ignorance, its consequences

and elimination.

Let us look again, for a moment, at the formula of the Four

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Noble Truths. The key to transforming our experience from the

experience of suffering to that of the end of suffering is under-

standing the second noble truth, the truth of the cause of suf-

fering. Once we understand the causes of suffering, we can act

to achieve the end of suffering. As mentioned in Chapter 4, the

Four Noble Truths are divided into two groups: the first, which

includes the truth of suffering and the truth of the cause of

suffering, is to be abandoned; the second, which includes the

truth of the end of suffering and the truth of the path, is to be

gained.

Understanding the cause of suffering enables us to accom-

plish this. This can be seen clearly in the Buddha’s own descrip-

tion of his experience on the night of his enlightenment. When

the Buddha perceived the causes of suffering – when he under-

stood that attachment, aversion, and ignorance were those

causes – this opened the door to freedom and enlightenment for

him. Attachment, aversion, and ignorance are the causes of suf-

fering. But if we want to restrict our examination to the most

essential component, we must focus on ignorance, because it is

due to ignorance that attachment and aversion arise.

Ignorance is the idea of a permanent, independent personality,

or self. It is this conception of an “I,” separate from and opposed

to the people and things around us, that is the fundamental cause

of suffering. Once we have the idea of such an “I,” we have a natu-

ral inclination toward those things in our experience that sustain

and support this “I,” and a natural inclination away from those

things that we imagine threaten this “I.” It is this conception of

an independent self that is the fundamental cause of suffering, the root of the various harmful emotions: attachment, aversion,

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greed, anger, envy, and jealousy. It is ignorance of the fact that

the so-called I, or self, is just a convenient name for a collection

of ever-changing, interdependent, contingent factors that is at the

bottom of all such emotional entanglements.

But is there a forest apart from the trees? The “I,” or self, is

just a common name for a collection of processes. When the

self is taken to be real and independent, it is a cause of suffering

and fear. In this context, believing in an independent self may

be likened to mistaking a rope for a snake in the semidarkness.

If we come upon a rope in a darkened room, we may assume

the rope to be really a snake, and that assumption is a cause of

fear. Similarly, because of the darkness of ignorance, we take the

impermanent, impersonal processes of feeling, perception, and

so forth to be a real, independent self. As a result, we respond

to situations with hope and fear, desire certain things and are

averse to others, are fond of some people and dislike others. Therefore, ignorance is the mistaken idea of a permanent ego,

or a real self. This teaching of impersonality, or not-self, does not

contradict the doctrine of moral responsibility, the law of karma.

In fact, you will recall that a moment ago we described right

understanding in terms of two aspects – understanding the law

of karma, and seeing things as they really are. Once the errone-

ous notion of the self, which is egocentrism, is dispelled by right

understanding, then attachment, aversion, and the other emo-

tional afflictions do not occur. When all these cease, the end of

suffering is attained. I do not expect all this to be immediately

clear. Indeed, I devote a number of chapters to the notion of

ignorance in Buddhism, and to its correctives.

Let us go on, for the present, to the next step of the path that

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belongs to the wisdom group – namely, right thought. Here we

can begin to see the reintegration, or reapplication, of the wis-

dom aspect of the path to good conduct, because thought has

an immense influence on our behavior. The Buddha said that

if we act and speak with a pure mind, happiness follows like a

shadow, whereas if we act and speak with an impure mind, suf-

fering follows as the wheel of a cart follows the hoof of the ox

that draws it.

Right thought means avoiding attachment and aversion. The causes of suffering are said to be ignorance, attachment, and aversion. While right understanding removes ignorance,

right thought removes attachment and aversion; therefore, right

understanding and right thought together remove the causes of

suffering.

To remove attachment and greed we must cultivate renunci-

ation, while to remove aversion and anger we must cultivate love

and compassion. How do we go about cultivating the attitudes of

renunciation and love and compassion, which act as correctives

to attachment and aversion? Renunciation is developed by con-

templating the unsatisfactory nature of existence, particularly the

unsatisfactory nature of pleasures of the senses. Pleasures of the

senses are likened to saltwater. A thirsty man who drinks saltwa-

ter in the hope of quenching his thirst only finds that it increases.

The Buddha also likened sense pleasures to a certain fruit that has

an attractive exterior and is fragrant and tasty, but that is poison-

ous if eaten. Similarly, pleasures are attractive and enjoyable yet

cause disaster. Therefore, to cultivate renunciation, you must con-

sider the undesirable consequences of pleasures of the senses.

In addition, we must appreciate the fact that the very nature

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of samsara, the cycle of birth and death, is suffering. No matter

where we are born within that cycle, our situation will be satu-

rated with suffering. The nature of samsara is suffering, just as

the nature of fire is heat. Through understanding the unsatisfac-

tory nature of existence and recognizing the undesirable conse-

quences of pleasures of the senses, we can cultivate renunciation

and detachment.

Similarly, we can develop love and compassion through rec-

ognizing the essential equality of all living beings. Like us, all

living beings fear death and tremble at the idea of punishment.

Understanding this, we should not kill other living beings or

cause them to be killed. Like us, all living beings desire life and

happiness. Understanding this, we should not place ourselves

above others or regard ourselves any differently from the way we

regard others.

Recognition of the essential equality of all living beings is

fundamental to the cultivation of love and compassion. All liv-

ing beings desire happiness and fear pain just as much as we do.

Recognizing this, we ought to regard all with love and compas-

sion. Moreover, we ought to actively cultivate the wish that all

living beings be happy and free from suffering. In this way we

can all cultivate the beneficial attitudes of renunciation and love

and compassion, which correct and eventually eliminate attach-

ment and aversion. Finally, by means of the practice of the wis-

dom aspect of the path – which includes not only right thought

but also right understanding – we can eliminate the afflictions of

ignorance, attachment, and aversion, attaining freedom and the

supreme happiness of nirvana, which is the ultimate goal of the

Noble Eightfold Path.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Karma

With this chapter, we begin our consideration of two related

concepts common in Buddhism: karma and rebirth. These

concepts are closely connected, but because the subject is a large

one, I intend to dedicate two chapters to it – this and the follow-

ing one.

We have learned that the factors which keep us prisoners in

samsara are the afflictions: ignorance, attachment, and aversion. We discussed this when we considered the second noble truth, the truth of the cause of suffering (see Chapter 4 and Chapter 7).

The afflictions are something that every living being in the world

has in common with every other living being, whether human,

animal, or a being who dwells in realms that we cannot nor-

mally perceive.

All living beings are alike insofar as they are subject to the

afflictions, yet there are many differences among living beings

with which we are all familiar. For instance, some of us are

wealthy while others are poor, some are strong and healthy while

others are weak and diseased, and so forth. There are many dif-

ferences among human beings, and there are even greater dif-

ferences between human beings and animals. These differences

are the result of karma. Ignorance, attachment, and aversion are

common to all living beings, but the particular circumstances in

which each living being finds himself are the effects of his par-

ticular karma, which conditions his specific situation.

Karma explains why some living beings are fortunate while

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others are less fortunate, why some are happy while others are

unhappy. The Buddha clearly stated that karma accounts for the

differences among living beings. We might also recall that part

of the Buddha’s experience on the night of his enlightenment

consisted of gaining an understanding of how karma determines

the rebirth of living beings – how living beings migrate from

happy to unhappy conditions, and vice versa, as a consequence

of their particular karma. Therefore, it is karma that explains the

differing circumstances in which individual living beings find

themselves.

Having said this much about the function of karma, let us

look more closely at what karma actually is: in other words, let

us define it. Perhaps we can begin by deciding what karma is

not. Often people misunderstand the meaning of karma. This is

especially true in the everyday, casual use of the term. You often

find people speaking resignedly about a particular situation and

making use of the idea of karma to reconcile themselves to it.

When people think of karma in this way, it becomes a vehicle

of escape and assumes most of the characteristics of a belief in

predestination, or fate. But this is most certainly not the correct

meaning of karma. Perhaps this misunderstanding is a result of

the idea of fate that is common in many cultures. Perhaps it is

because of this popular belief that the concept of karma is often

confused with and obscured by the notion of predestination. But

karma is certainly not fate or predestination.

If karma is not fate or predestination, what is it? Let us look

at the meaning of the term itself. Karma means “action,” that

is to say, the act of doing this or that. Immediately, we have

a clear indication that the real meaning of karma is not fate;

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rather, karma is action, and as such, it is dynamic. But karma is

more than just action, because it is not mechanical action, nor

is it unconscious or involuntary action. On the contrary, karma

is intentional, conscious, deliberate action motivated by volition, or will.

How can this intentional action condition our situation for

better or for worse? It can do so because every action must have

a reaction, or an effect. This truth has been enunciated with

respect to the physical universe by the great classical physicist

Newton, who formulated the scientific law that every action

must have an equal and opposite reaction. In the sphere of inten-

tional action and moral responsibility, there is a counterpart to

this law of action and reaction that governs events in the physi-

cal universe – namely, the law that every intentional action must

have its effect. For this reason, Buddhists often speak of inten-

tional action and its ripened consequences or intentional action

and its effect. Thus, when we want to speak about intentional

action together with its ripened consequences, or effects, we use

the phrase “the law of karma.”

On the most fundamental level, the law of karma teaches

that particular kinds of actions inevitably lead to similar or

appropriate results. Let us take a simple example to illustrate

this point. If we plant the seed of a mango, the tree that grows

as a result will be a mango tree, which will eventually bear man-

gos. Alternatively, if we plant a pomegranate seed, the tree that

grows as a consequence will be a pomegranate tree, and its fruit

will be pomegranates. “As you sow, so shall you reap”: accord-

ing to the nature of our actions, we will obtain the correspond-

ing fruit.

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In the same way, according to the law of karma, if we per-

form a wholesome action, sooner or later we will obtain a whole-

some fruit, or result, and if we perform an unwholesome action, we will inevitably obtain an unwholesome or unwanted result.

This is what we mean when we say, in Buddhism, that particu-

lar causes bring about particular effects that are similar in nature

to those causes. This will become perfectly clear when we con-

sider specific examples of wholesome and unwholesome actions

and their corresponding effects.

It may be understood from this brief, general introduction

that karma can be of two kinds: good or wholesome karma, and

bad or unwholesome karma. To avoid misunderstanding these

terms, it may be of use to look at the original words used to refer

to so-called good and bad karma – namely, kushala and akushala,

respectively. To understand how these words are used, it is nec-

essary to know their actual meanings: kushala means “intelligent”

or “skillful,” whereas akushala means “unintelligent” or “unskill-

ful.” By knowing this, we can see that these terms are used in

Buddhism not in the sense of good and evil, but in the sense of

intelligent and unintelligent, skillful and unskillful, wholesome

and unwholesome.

In what way are actions wholesome and unwholesome?

Actions are wholesome in the sense that they are beneficial to

oneself and others, and hence motivated not by ignorance, attach-

ment, and aversion but by wisdom, renunciation or detachment, and love and compassion.

How can we know that a wholesome action will produce

happiness, and an unwholesome action, unhappiness? The short

answer is that time will tell. The Buddha himself explained that,

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as long as an unwholesome action does not produce its fruit of

suffering, a foolish person will consider that action good, but

when it does produce its fruit of suffering, then he will real-

ize that the act was unwholesome. In the same way, as long as a

wholesome action does not produce happiness, a foolish person

may think that it was unwholesome; only when it does produce

happiness will he realize that the act was good.

Thus we need to judge wholesome and unwholesome actions

from the point of view of their long-term effects. Very simply,

sooner or later wholesome actions result in happiness for oneself

and for others, whereas unwholesome actions result in suffering

for oneself and others.

Specifically, the unwholesome actions that are to be avoided

are related to the so-called three doors of action – namely, body, voice, and mind. There are three unwholesome actions of body,

four of speech, and three of mind. The three unwholesome

actions of body are (1) killing, (2) stealing, and (3) sexual mis-

conduct; the four unwholesome actions of voice are (4) lying,

(5) harsh speech, (6) slander, and (7) malicious gossip; and the

three unwholesome actions of mind are (8) greed, (9) anger, and

(10) delusion. By avoiding these ten unwholesome actions, we

can avoid their consequences.

The general fruit of these unwholesome actions is suffering,

which can, however, take various forms. The fully ripened fruit

of unwholesome actions is rebirth in the lower realms, or realms

of woe – the hell realms, the realm of hungry ghosts, and the

realm of animals. If the weight of unwholesome actions is not

sufficient to result in birth in the lower realms, then it results in

unhappiness even though we are born as humans.

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Here we can see at work the principle alluded to earlier – that

of a cause resulting in a corresponding or appropriate effect. For

instance, if we habitually perform actions that are motivated by

ill-will and hatred, such as taking the lives of others, this will

result in rebirth in the hells, where we will be repeatedly tor-

tured and killed. If the unwholesome action of killing other liv-

ing beings is not habitual and repeated, then such actions will

result in a shortened life even though we are born as human

beings. Otherwise, actions of this kind can result in separation

from loved ones, fear, or even paranoia. In this case, also, we can

clearly see how the effect is similar in nature to the cause. Killing

shortens the life of those who are killed, depriving them of their

loved ones and the like, so if we indulge in killing we will be lia-

ble to experience these same effects.

Similarly, stealing motivated by the afflictions of attach-

ment and greed can lead to rebirth as a hungry ghost, where we

are completely deprived of the things we want and even denied

such essentials as food and shelter. And even if stealing does

not result in rebirth as a hungry ghost, it will result in poverty,

dependence on others for our livelihood, and so forth. Sexual

misconduct, for its part, will result in marital problems.

Thus unwholesome actions produce unwholesome results in

the shape of various forms of suffering, whereas wholesome actions

result in wholesome effects, or happiness. We can interpret whole-

some actions in two ways, negatively and positively: we can regard

wholesome actions as those that simply avoid the unwholesome

ones (killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, and the rest), or we can

think of wholesome actions in terms of generosity, restraint, medi-

tation, reverence, service to others, transference of merit, rejoic-

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ing in the merit of others, listening to the Dharma, teaching the

Dharma, and correction of our own erroneous views. Here, again, the effects of actions are similar to their causes.

For instance, generosity results in wealth, listening to the

Dharma results in wisdom, and so on. Wholesome actions have

effects that are similar in nature to their causes – in this case,

wholesome, or beneficial – just as unwholesome actions have

effects that are unwholesome, like the actions themselves.

Karma, whether wholesome or unwholesome, is modified by

the conditions under which it is accumulated. In other words, a

wholesome or unwholesome action may be more or less weighty

depending on the conditions under which it is performed. The

conditions that determine the weight or strength of karma may

be divided into those that refer to the subject, or doer of the

action, and those that refer to the object, or the being toward

whom the action is directed. Hence the conditions that deter-

mine the weight of karma apply to the subject as well as the

object of actions.

If we take the example of killing, five conditions must be

present for the action to have complete, unmitigated strength:

(a) a living being, (b) consciousness of the existence of a living

being, (c) the intention to kill the living being, (d) the effort or

action of killing the living being, and (e) the consequent death

of the living being. Here we can see conditions that apply to the

subject as well as the object of the action of killing: the subjec-

tive conditions are consciousness of the existence of a living being,

the intention to kill, and the action of killing a living being, while

the objective conditions are the presence of a living being and the

consequent death of that living being.

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Similarly, there are five alternative conditions that mod-

ify the weight of karma: (i) persistence or repetition, (ii) willful

intention, (iii) absence of regret, (iv) quality, and (v) indebted-

ness. Again, the five can be divided into subjective and objective

categories. The subjective conditions are actions done with per-

sistence, actions done with willful intention and determination,

and actions done without regret or misgivings. If you perform

an unwholesome action again and again, with willful intention

and without regret or misgivings, the weight of that action will

be increased.

The objective conditions are the quality of the object – that is,

the living being toward whom the action is directed – and indebt-

edness, or the nature of the relationship that exists between the

object of an action and the subject. In other words, if we perform

a wholesome or unwholesome action toward a living being with

extraordinary qualities, like an Arhat or the Buddha, the whole-

some or unwholesome action will have greater weight. Finally,

the strength of wholesome and unwholesome actions is greater

when they are done toward those to whom we are indebted, like

our parents, teachers, and friends who have benefited us in the

past.

The subjective and objective conditions, taken together,

determine the weight of karma. This is important, because

knowing this will help us remember that karma is not simply a

matter of black and white or good and bad. Karma is, of course,

intentional action and moral responsibility, but the working of

the law of karma is very finely balanced so as to justly and nat-

urally match the effect with the cause. It takes into account all

the subjective and objective conditions that influence the precise

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nature of an action. This ensures that the effects of an action are

similar and equal to the cause.

The effects of karma may become evident either in the short

term or in the long term. Traditionally, karma is divided into

three categories determined by the amount of time needed for its

effects to manifest themselves: in this very life, in the next life, or only after many lives.

When the effects of karma manifest in this life, it is possible

to see them within a relatively short space of time. The effects of

this kind of karma can be easily and directly witnessed by any

of us. For instance, when a person refuses to study, indulges in

alcohol or drug abuse, or begins to steal to support his harmful

habits, the effects are evident within a short space of time. They

manifest themselves in the loss of his livelihood and friends, in

ill health, and the like.

Although we ourselves cannot see the medium- and long-

term effects of karma, the Buddha and his prominent disciples,

who had developed their minds through the practice of medita-

tion, were able to perceive them. For example, when Moggallana

was attacked by bandits and came to the Buddha streaming with

blood, the Buddha was able to see that the event was the effect of

karma that Moggallana had accumulated in a previous life. Then,

it seems, he had taken his aged parents into a forest and, having

beaten them to death, reported that they had been killed by ban-

dits. The effect of this unwholesome action, done many lifetimes

before, manifested itself only in his life as Moggallana.

At the point of death, we have to leave everything behind – our

property and even our loved ones – yet our karma will follow

us like a shadow. The Buddha said that nowhere on earth or

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in heaven can we escape our karma. When the conditions are

present, dependent on mind and body, the effects of karma will

manifest themselves, just as, dependent on the appropriate con-

ditions, a mango will appear on a mango tree. We can see that,

even in the natural world, certain effects take longer to appear

than others. If we plant watermelon seeds, we obtain the fruit

in a shorter period than if we plant the seeds of a walnut tree. In

the same way, the effects of karma manifest themselves either

in the short term or in the medium to long term, depending on

the nature of the action.

In addition to the two principal varieties of karma, whole-

some and unwholesome, we should mention neutral or ineffec-

tive karma. Neutral karma is action that has no moral conse-

quences, either because the very nature of the action is such as to

have no moral significance, or because the action was done invol-

untarily and unintentionally. Examples of this variety of karma

include walking eating, sleeping, breathing, making handi-

crafts, and so on. Similarly, actions done unintentionally consti-

tute ineffective karma, because the all-important volitional ele-

ment is missing. For instance, if you step on an insect when com-

pletely unaware of its existence, such an act is considered neutral

or ineffective karma.

The benefits of understanding the law of karma are obvi-

ous. In the first place, such an understanding discourages us

from performing unwholesome actions that have suffering as

their inevitable fruit. Once we understand that, throughout our

entire life, each and every intentional act will produce a simi-

lar and equal reaction – once we understand that, sooner or later,

we will have to experience the effects of our actions, wholesome

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or unwholesome – we will refrain from unwholesome behavior

because we will not want to experience the painful results of

such actions. Similarly, knowing that wholesome actions have

happiness as their fruit, we will do our best to cultivate such

wholesome actions.

Reflecting on the law of karma, of action and reaction in the

sphere of conscious activity, encourages us to abandon unwhole-

some actions and to practice wholesome ones. We will look more

closely at the specific effects of karma in future lives, and at

exactly how it conditions and determines the nature of rebirth, in the next chapter.

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CHAPTER NINE

Rebirth

In this chapter, I will look at the effects of karma in the next

life or, to put it another way, I will elaborate on the idea

of rebirth. But before we begin to talk specifically about the

Buddha’s teaching on rebirth, we may do well to spend a little

time on the concept of rebirth in general.

Rebirth is a concept with which many people have difficulty.

This has been especially true over the past century or so, when

we have become increasingly conditioned to think in what are

regarded as scientific terms, that is to say, terms that many peo-

ple naively take to be scientific. This attitude has caused many

people to discard the idea of rebirth because they think that it

smacks of superstition and belongs to an old-fashioned, outdated

way of looking at the world. For this reason, I think we need

to redress the balance by creating a degree of open-mindedness

toward the concept of rebirth in general terms, before we begin

to consider the Buddhist teaching on the subject.

There are a number of approaches we can adopt in attempting

to make a case for the reality of rebirth. One line of argument is

to recall that, in almost all the major cultures of the world at one

time or another, there has been a strong popular belief in rebirth.

This is particularly true of India, where the idea can be traced

back to the very earliest period of Indian civilization. In India,

all the major religions – theist or atheist, schools of Hinduism or

unorthodox doctrines like Jainism – accept the truth of rebirth.

In other cultures, too, belief in rebirth has been common. To

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take just one example, in the Mediterranean world, belief in the

reality of rebirth was widespread before and during the first few

centuries of the common era. Even today, it persists among the

Druze, a Middle Eastern sect of Islam. Consequently, belief in

the reality of rebirth has been an important part of the human

way of thinking about the world and our place in it.

Then there is the testimony of recognized authorities who

belong to various religious traditions. In Buddhism, it was the

Buddha himself who taught the truth of rebirth. We are told

that, on the night of his enlightenment, the Buddha acquired

three kinds of knowledge, the first of which was detailed know-

ledge of his own past lives. He recollected the conditions under

which he had been born in the past, and was able to remember

what his name and occupation had been in innumerable for-

mer lives. Besides the Buddha’s testimony, we have that of his

principal disciples, who were also able to recall their past lives.

Ananda, for instance, acquired the ability to remember his past

lives soon after he was ordained as a Buddhist monk. Similarly,

throughout the history of the Buddhist tradition, accomplished

practitioners have been able to remember their past lives.

Nonetheless, neither of these two arguments for the reality

of rebirth can be expected to be wholly convincing in the ratio-

nal and scientific environment in which we live, so perhaps we

need to look a bit closer to home, so to speak. Here we receive

help from a very unexpected source. Some of you may be aware

of the fact that in the past three decades there has been a vast

amount of scientific investigation of the question of rebirth. Such

research has been undertaken by psychologists and parapsychol-

ogists. Through this research we have gradually built up a very

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convincing case for the reality of rebirth, a case developed along

scientific lines. Many books have been published in which the

details of these investigations are described and discussed.

One scholar who has been particularly active in this area

in recent years is Professor Ian Stevenson of the University of

Virginia, in the United States. He has published his findings

in about twenty cases of rebirth. One case, which has received

widespread attention, is that of a woman who was able to recall

her life lived more than a hundred years earlier in a foreign land,

under the name of Bridey Murphy – a land she had never visited

in her present life. I will not go into the specific details of cases

here, because anyone interested in the scientific evidence for

rebirth can read about it for him or herself. Nonetheless, I think

we are now at a point where even the most skeptical among us

must admit that there is a lot of circumstantial evidence in favor

of the reality of rebirth.

In constructing a case for the reality of rebirth, however,

we can also look even closer to home – namely, within our own

experience. We need only recollect and examine that experi-

ence in the truly Buddhist way to see what conclusions we can

derive from it. All of us have our own particular capabilities,

our own particular inclinations and disinclinations, and I think

it is fair to ask whether these are all really the result of chance

and social conditioning in early life. For instance, some of us are

more capable in sports than others. Some of us have a talent for

mathematics, while others have a talent for music. Still others

like swimming, while others are afraid of water. Are all such dif-

ferences in our abilities and attitudes merely the result of chance

and conditioning?

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There are often dramatic and unexpected turns in the course

of our personal development. Let me take my own case. I was

born into a Roman Catholic family in the United States. There

was absolutely nothing in my early background to indicate that

I would have traveled to India by the age of twenty, and that I

would spend the next two-and-a-half decades of my life pre-

dominantly in Asia, where I would become deeply involved in

Buddhist studies.

Then, too, there are those situations in which we sometimes

feel a strong presentiment that we have been in a particular place

before, although we have not visited it in our present lifetime.

On other occasions, we feel that we have known someone before:

we meet a person for the first time, and yet very soon we feel that

we have known that person all our lives. Alternatively, we can

know someone else for years and still feel we do not really know

him or her. Experiences such as these, when we feel that we have

been in a particular situation before, are so common and uni-

versal that, even in the culture of contemporary France, which

knows almost nothing of rebirth, there is a well-known phrase

for them – the expression deja vu, which means “already seen.”

If we are not dogmatic, when we add up all these indications

and suggestions – the belief in rebirth in many cultures and ages

throughout the history of human civilization, the testimony of

the Buddha and his prominent disciples, the evidence provided

by scientific research, and our own personal intimations that we

have been here before – I think we will have to confess that there

is at least a strong possibility that rebirth actually is a reality.

In Buddhism, rebirth is part and parcel of the continuous

process of change. Indeed, we are not only reborn at the time of

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death, we are reborn at every moment. This, like other impor-

tant teachings of Buddhism, is easily verifiable by reference to

our own experience and to the teachings of science. For exam-

ple, the majority of cells that compose the human body die and

are replaced many times during the course of a lifetime. Even

those few cells which last an entire lifetime undergo continuous

internal change. This is part of the process of birth, death, and

rebirth. If we look at the mind, we find that mental states (such

as worry, happiness, and the like) appear and disappear every

moment. They pass away and are replaced by new and differ-

ent states. Therefore, whether we look at the body or the mind,

our experience is characterized by constant birth, death, and

rebirth.

Buddhism teaches that there are various realms, spheres, or

dimensions of existence. Some texts list thirty-one such dimen-

sions or planes of existence, but for our purposes we will make

use of a simpler scheme, which refers to six such realms. These

six realms can be divided into two groups, one that is relatively

fortunate and the other, unfortunate. The first group includes

the realm of the gods, the realm of the demigods, and the realm

of human beings. Rebirth in these fortunate realms is the result

of wholesome karma. The second group includes the realm of

the animals, the realm of the hungry ghosts, and the hell realms.

Rebirth in these realms of woe is the result of unwholesome

karma.

Let us now look at each of these realms, beginning with the

lowest. There are quite a few hell realms in Buddhism, including

eight hot hells and eight cold hells. In the hells, living beings suf-

fer incalculable and indescribable pain. It is said that the suffer-

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ing experienced in this human world as a consequence of being

pierced by three hundred spears in a single day is only a min-

ute fraction of the suffering experienced by the denizens of hell.

The cause of rebirth in hell is repeated violent behavior, such as

habitual killing, cruelty, and the like.

Such actions are born of aversion, and living beings who

commit them suffer the pains of hell until the unwholesome

karma they have generated through such actions is exhausted.

This last point is important, because it gives us occasion to note

that, in Buddhism, no one suffers eternal damnation. When

their unwholesome karma is exhausted, the denizens of hell are

reborn in more fortunate realms of existence.

The next realm is that of the hungry ghosts. Living beings in

this realm suffer chiefly from hunger and thirst, heat and cold.

They are completely bereft of the things they desire. It is said that

when the hungry ghosts see a mountain of rice or a river of fresh

water and run toward it, they find that the mountain of rice is

only a heap of pebbles and the river only a ribbon of blue slate.

Similarly, it is said that in the summer even the moon feels hot

to them, while in the winter even the sun is cold.

The foremost cause of rebirth as a hungry ghost is avarice

and miserliness born of attachment and greed. As with the den-

izens of hell, the living beings in this realm are not condemned

to eternal existence in the form of hungry ghosts, because when

their unwholesome karma is exhausted, they will be reborn in a

more fortunate realm.

In the next realm, that of animals, living beings suffer from a

variety of unhappy circumstances. They suffer from the fear and

pain that results from constantly killing and eating one another.

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They suffer from the human beings who kill them for food or

for their hides, pearls, or teeth. Even if they are not killed, many

domestic animals are forced to work for people who drive them

on with hooks and whips. All this is a source of suffering.

The principal cause of rebirth as an animal is ignorance. The

blind, heedless pursuit of one’s animal desires; preoccupation

with eating, sleeping, and sexual gratification, accompanied by

disregard for the need to develop one’s mind and practice vir-

tue – all these lead one to be reborn as an animal. Now, when we

say, for instance, that aversion is the cause of rebirth in the hells, that attachment is the cause of rebirth among hungry ghosts,

and that ignorance is the cause of rebirth in the realm of ani-

mals, it does not mean that an isolated act motivated by aver-

sion, attachment, or ignorance will result in rebirth in the corre-

sponding class of living being. What it does mean is that there

is a definite, proven relationship between aversion or hatred and

rebirth in the hells, just as there is between attachment and

greed and rebirth among the hungry ghosts, and between igno-

rance and rebirth among the animals. If unimpeded and unob-

structed by countervailing virtuous actions, actions habitually

motivated by these unwholesome attitudes are likely to lead to

rebirth in these three states of woe.

I am going to skip the realm of human beings for the moment

in order to go on to the realm of the demigods. The demigods

are physically more powerful and mentally more acute than

human beings, yet they suffer because of jealousy and conflict.

According to ancient Indian mythology, the demigods and gods

share a celestial tree. While the gods enjoy the fruit of this tree,

the demigods are custodians of its roots. Consequently, they are

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envious of the gods and constantly attempt to take the fruit from

them. They fight the gods but are defeated and suffer greatly as

a result. Because of this rampant jealousy and conflict, rebirth

among the demigods is unhappy and unfortunate.

As in the case of the other realms, there is a cause of rebirth

among the demigods. On the positive side, the cause is generos-

ity, while on the negative side, the cause is jealousy and envy.

The realm of the gods is the happiest of the six realms. As a

consequence of wholesome actions done in the past, observation

of the codes of good conduct, and the practice of meditation, liv-

ing beings are reborn among the gods, where they enjoy sensual

pleasures, spiritual happiness, or supreme tranquillity, depend-

ing on the level of the realm in which they are born. Nonetheless,

the realm of the gods is not to be desired because the happiness

of the gods is impermanent. No matter how much they may

enjoy their existence, when the force of their wholesome karma

is exhausted, the effects of their good conduct and experience

of meditation spent, the gods fall from heaven and are reborn

in another realm. At that moment, it is said that the gods suf-

fer even more mental anguish than the physical pain suffered by

other living beings in the other realms.

The gods are reborn in the heavens as a consequence of their

practice of good conduct and meditation, but there is also a neg-

ative factor associated with rebirth in the heavens, and this is

pride.

As you can see, we have an affliction or defilement associated

with each of these five realms – hell beings, hungry ghosts, ani-

mals, demigods, and gods – namely, aversion, attachment, igno-

rance, jealousy, and pride, respectively. Birth in any of these five

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realms is undesirable. The three lower realms are undesirable for

obvious reasons – both because of the intense suffering in them

and because of the total ignorance of the beings who inhabit

these realms. Even rebirth in the realms of the demigods and

gods is undesirable because, although one experiences a certain

degree of happiness and power among them, existence there is

impermanent. Besides, the distractions and pleasures in these

realms keep the beings there from looking for a way out of the

cycle of birth and death. This is why it is said that, of the six

realms of existence, the most fortunate, opportune, and favored

is the human realm. This is also why I have left our discussion

of the human realm until last.

The human realm is the most favored of the six realms

because, as a human being, one has the motivation and oppor-

tunity to practice the Dharma and achieve enlightenment. One

has this motivation and opportunity because the conditions con-

ducive to practicing the path are present. In the human realm,

one experiences both happiness and suffering. The suffering in

this realm, though terrible, is not as great as the suffering in the

three realms of woe. The pleasure and happiness experienced

in the human realm are not as great as the pleasure and intense

happiness experienced by beings in the heavens, nor are humans

overwhelmed by the unbearable suffering that beings in the hells

undergo. And unlike animals, human beings possess sufficient

intelligence to recognize the necessity of looking for a means to

achieve the total end of suffering.

Human birth is difficult to gain from a number of points of

view. First of all, it is difficult from the point of view of its cause.

Good conduct is the foremost cause of rebirth as a human being,

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but truly good conduct is exceedingly rare. Second, human birth

is difficult to gain from the point of view of number, for human

beings are only a small fraction of the living beings who inhabit

the six realms. Third, it is not enough simply to be born as a

human being, because there are countless humans who do not

have the opportunity to practice the Dharma. It is therefore

not only necessary to be born as a human but also to have the

opportunity to practice the Dharma, developing one’s qualities

of morality, mental development, and wisdom.

The Buddha used a simile to illustrate the rarity and precious

nature of opportune birth among human beings. Suppose the

whole world were a vast ocean, and on the surface of this ocean a

yoke floated, blown about by the wind. Suppose, further, that at

the bottom of the ocean there lived a blind tortoise who came to

the surface only once every hundred years. The Buddha said that

it is as rare to attain opportune birth as a human as for that tor-

toise to place his neck through the yoke when rising to the sur-

face. Elsewhere, it is said that to be born as a human being with

the opportunity to practice the Dharma is as rare as it would be

to throw a handful of dried peas against a stone wall and have

one pea stick in a crack in it.

Thus it is foolish to waste human existence, not to mention

the fortunate conditions that we enjoy in free societies such as

the opportunity we have to practice the Dharma. It is extremely

important that, having this opportunity, we make use of it. If

we fail to practice the Dharma in this life, there is no way of

knowing where in the six realms we will be reborn, or when we

will have such a chance again. We must strive to free ourselves

from the cycle of rebirth because failing to do so means that we

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continue to circle endlessly among these six realms of existence.

When the karma, wholesome or unwholesome, that causes us to

be born in any of the six realms is exhausted, rebirth occurs, and

we find ourselves again in another realm.

It is said that all of us have circled in these six realms since

beginningless time. It is also said that if all the skeletons we have

had in our various lives were heaped up, the pile would exceed

the height of Mount Sumeru, that if all the mother’s milk we

have drunk in our countless existences were collected together, it

would amount to more than all the water in all the oceans. Now

that we have the opportunity to practice the Dharma, we must

do so without delay.

In recent years, there has been a tendency to interpret the

six realms in psychological terms. Some teachers have suggested

that the experiences of the six realms are available to us in this

very life. This is true as far as it goes. Men and women who find

themselves in prisons, tortured, killed, and so forth are undoubt-

edly experiencing situations similar to those of the hell beings;

those who are miserly and avaricious experience a state of mind

similar to that of the hungry ghosts; those who are animal-like

experience a state of mind similar to that of animals; those who

are quarrelsome, power-hungry, and jealous experience a state of

mind like that of the demigods; and those who are pure, tran-

quil, serene, and exalted experience a state of mind similar to

that of the gods.

And yet, although the experiences of the six realms are to

some extent available to us in this human existence, I think

it would be a mistake to assume or believe that the other five

realms of existence do not have a reality which is as real as our

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own human experience. The hell realms and the realms of the

hungry ghosts, animals, demigods, and gods are as real as our

human realm. You will recall that mind is the creator of all

things. Actions done with a pure mind (motivated by generosity,

love, and so forth) result in happiness, in states of existence like

the human realm and the realm of the gods. But actions done

with an impure mind (motivated by attachment, aversion, and

the like) result in unhappy states like those of the hungry ghosts

and hell beings.

Finally, I would like to distinguish rebirth from transmigra-

tion. You may not know that, in Buddhism, we consistently speak

of rebirth, not transmigration. This is because in Buddhism we

do not believe in an abiding entity, or substance, that transmi-

grates. We do not believe in a self that is reborn. This is why,

when we explain rebirth, we make use of examples that do not

require the transmigration of an essence or a substance.

For example, when a sprout is born from a seed, there is no

substance that transmigrates. The seed and the sprout are not

identical. Similarly, when we light one candle from another can-

dle, no substance travels from one to the other, even though the

first is the cause of the second. When one billiard ball strikes

another, there is a continuity; the energy and direction of the

first ball is imparted to the second. The first ball is the cause of

the second billiard ball moving in a particular direction and at a

particular speed, but it is not the same ball. When we step twice

into a river, it is not the same river, and yet there is continuity, the continuity of cause and effect.

Hence there is rebirth, but not transmigration. Moral respon-

sibility exists, but not an independent, permanent self. The con-

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tinuity of cause and effect exists, but not permanence. I want to

end with this point because we will be considering the example

of the seed and the sprout, and the example of the flame in an oil

lamp, in Chapter 10, when we discuss interdependent origina-

tion. Thereafter, we will better understand how interdependent

origination makes moral responsibility and not-self compatible.

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CHAPTER TEN

Interdependent Origination

In this chapter, I take up a very important topic in Buddhist

studies: the teaching of interdependent origination. I am

aware of the fact that many people believe that interdependent

origination is a very difficult subject, and I would not say that

there is no truth in that belief. When Ananda once remarked

that, despite its apparent difficulty, the teaching of interdepen-

dent origination is actually quite simple, the Buddha rebuked

him, saying that in fact this teaching is very deep.

The teaching of interdependent origination is certainly one

of the most important and profound teachings in Buddhism.

Yet I sometimes feel that our fear of interdependent origination

is to some extent unwarranted. To begin with, there is noth-

ing particularly difficult about the term itself. After all, we all

know what “interdependence” means, and what “birth,” “orig-

ination,” or “arising” means. Only when we begin to exam-

ine the function and contents of interdependent origination do

we recognize the fact that it is a very profound and significant

teaching.

Some indication of this can be gained from the Buddha’s

own statements. The Buddha very frequently expressed his expe-

rience of enlightenment in one of two ways: either in terms of

having understood the Four Noble Truths, or in terms of hav-

ing understood interdependent origination. Conversely, he often

said that, in order to attain enlightenment, one has to under-

stand the meaning of these truths.

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On the basis of the Buddha’s own statements, we can see a

very close relation between the Four Noble Truths and interde-

pendent origination. What is it that these two formulas have in

common? The principle they have in common is the principle of

causality – the law of cause and effect, of action and consequence.

In Chapter 4 and Chapter 7, I mentioned that the Four Noble

Truths are divided into two groups – the first two (suffering and

the cause of suffering) and the last two (the end of suffering and

the path to the end of suffering). In both these groups, it is the

law of cause and effect that governs the relationship. In other

words, suffering is the effect of the cause of suffering, and the

end of suffering is the effect of the path to the end of suffering.

Here, too, with interdependent origination, the fundamen-

tal principle at work is that of cause and effect. In interdependent

origination, we have a more detailed description of what actu-

ally takes place in the causal process. Let us take a few examples

that illustrate the nature of interdependent origination used by

the Buddha himself. The Buddha said the flame in an oil lamp

burns dependent on the oil and the wick: when the oil and wick

are present, the flame burns, but if either is absent, the flame

will cease to burn. Let us also take the example of the sprout:

dependent on the seed, earth, water, air, and sunlight, the sprout

arises.

There are innumerable examples of interdependent origina-

tion because there is no existing phenomenon that is not the

effect of interdependent origination. All these phenomena arise

dependent on a number of causal factors. Very simply, this is the

principle of interdependent origination.

Of course, we are particularly interested in the principle of

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interdependent origination insofar as it concerns the problem of

suffering and rebirth. We are interested in how interdependent

origination explains the situation in which we find ourselves

here and now. In this sense, it is important to remember that

interdependent origination is essentially and primarily a teach-

ing that has to do with the problem of suffering and how to free

ourselves from suffering, and not a description of the evolution

of the universe.

Let me briefly list the twelve components, or links, that

make up interdependent origination: (1) ignorance, (2) volition, (3) consciousness, (4) name and form, (5) the six sense spheres, (6) contact, (7) feeling, (8) craving, (9) clinging, (10) becoming, (11) birth, and (12) old age and death.

There are two principal ways we can understand these twelve

components. One way to understand them is sequentially, over

the course of three lifetimes – the past life, the present life, and

the future life. In this case, ignorance and volition belong to the

past life. They represent the conditions responsible for the occur-

rence of this life. The eight components of consciousness, name

and form, the six sense spheres, contact, feeling, craving, cling-

ing, and becoming belong to this life. In brief, these eight com-

ponents constitute the process of evolution within this lifetime.

The last two components, birth and old age and death, belong

to the future life.

With the help of this first scheme, we can see how the twelve

components of interdependent origination are distributed over

the three lifetimes – how the first two, ignorance and volition,

result in the emergence of this life, with its psycho physical per-

sonality from the past, and how, in turn, the actions performed

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in this life result in rebirth in a future life. This is one popular

and authoritative way of interpreting the twelve components of

interdependent origination.

The other interpretation of the relations among the twelve

components of interdependent origination is also authoritative

and has the support of recognized Buddhist masters and saints.

It might be called a cyclical interpretation because it does not

distribute the twelve components over the course of three life-

times. Rather, it divides the twelve components into three cat-

egories: (1) afflictions, (2) actions and (3) sufferings. In this sec-

ond scheme, the three components of ignorance, craving, and

clinging are viewed as belonging to the group of afflictions;

volition and becoming, to the group of actions; and the remain-

ing seven components – consciousness, name and form, the six

sense spheres, contact, feeling, birth, and old age and death – to

the group of sufferings. By means of this interpretation, we can

see both how the teaching of the Four Noble Truths – and par-

ticularly the teaching of the second truth, that of the cause of

suffering – is conjoined with the teaching of karma and rebirth,

and how these two important teachings together explain, in a

more complete way, the process of rebirth and the origination

of suffering.

You may recall that, in the context of discussing the Four

Noble Truths, we said that ignorance, attachment, and ill-will

are the causes of suffering. Now, if we look here at the three

components of interdependent origination that are included in

the group of afflictions, we find ignorance, craving, and cling-

ing. Here, too, ignorance is the most basic. It is because of igno-

rance that we crave pleasures of the senses, existence, and nonex-

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istence. Similarly, it is because of ignorance that we cling to plea-

sures of the senses, to pleasant experiences, to ideas, and most

significantly, to the idea of an independent, permanent self. Thus

ignorance, craving, and clinging are the cause of actions.

The two components of interdependent origination that

are included in the group of actions are volition and becoming.

Volition refers to the impressions, or habits, that we have formed

in our stream of conscious moments, or conscious continuum.

These impressions are formed by repeated actions. We can illus-

trate this with an example from geology. We know that a river

forms its course by a process of repeated erosion. As rain falls on

a hillside, that rain gathers into a rivulet, which gradually cre-

ates a channel for itself and grows into a stream. Eventually, as

the channel of the stream is deepened and widened by repeated

flows of water, the stream becomes a river, with well-defined

banks and a definite course.

In the same way, our actions become habitual. These habits

become part of our personality, and we take these habits with

us from life to life in the form of what we call volition, mental

formation, or “habit energy.” Our actions in this life are condi-

tioned by the habits we have formed over countless previous life-

times.

To return to the analogy of the channel of a river and the

water in it, we might say that mental formations are the chan-

nel of the river, while the actions that we perform in this life are

the fresh water that flows through the eroded channel created

by previous actions. The actions that we perform in this life are

represented by the component known as becoming. Hence we

have the habits that we have developed over the course of count-

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less lives, combined with new actions performed in this life, and

these two together result in rebirth and suffering.

To summarize, we have the afflictions, which may be

described as impurities of the mind – namely, ignorance, craving,

and clinging. These mental impurities result in actions – both

actions done in previous lives, which result in the formation of

habit energy, or volition, and actions done in the present life,

which correspond to the component known as becoming and

which are liable to conform to the patterns established in previ-

ous lives.

Together, these impurities of the mind and these actions

result in rebirth. In other words, they result in consciousness,

in name and form, in the six sense spheres, in contact between

the six senses and the objects of the six senses, in feeling, which

is born of that contact, in birth, and in old age and death. In

this interpretation, the five components of interdependent orig-

ination included in the groups of afflictions and actions – igno-

rance, craving, clinging, volition, and becoming – are the causes

of rebirth and suffering. The other seven components – con-

sciousness, name and form, the six sense spheres, contact, feel-

ing, birth, and old age and death – are the effects of the afflic-

tions and actions.

Together, the afflictions and actions explain the origin of suf-

fering and the particular circumstances in which each of us finds

him- or herself, the circumstances in which we are born. You

may recall that, in Chapter 8, I referred to the fact that, whereas

the afflictions are common to all living beings, karma differs

from person to person. In other words, although the afflictions

account for the fact that all of us are prisoners within samsara,

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our actions account for the fact that some are born as human

beings, others as gods, and still others as animals. In this sense,

the twelve components of interdependent origination present a

picture of samsara with its causes and its effects.

There would be no point in painting this picture of sam-

sara if we did not intend to use it to change our situation, to get

out of the round of birth and death. Recognizing the circularity

of samsara, the circularity of interdependent origination, is the

beginning of liberation. How is this so? As long as afflictions

and actions are present, rebirth and suffering will occur. When

we see that ignorance, craving, clinging, and actions repeatedly

lead to rebirth and suffering, we will recognize the need to break

this vicious circle.

Let us take a practical example. Suppose you are looking

for the home of an acquaintance you have never visited before.

Suppose you have been driving about for half an hour and have

failed to find the home of your friend, and suppose suddenly you

recognize a landmark and it dawns on you that you passed it half

an hour ago. At that moment it will also dawn on you that you

have been going around in circles, and you will stop and look at

your road map, or inquire the way from a passerby so as to stop

going around in circles and reach your destination.

This is why the Buddha said that he who sees interdepen-

dent origination sees the Dharma, and he who sees the Dharma

sees the Buddha. This is also why he said that understanding

interdependent origination is the key to liberation. Once we see

the functioning of interdependent origination, we can set about

breaking its vicious circle. We can do this by removing the impu-

rities of the mind – ignorance, craving, and clinging. Once these

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impurities are eliminated, actions will not be performed and

habit energy will not be produced. Once actions cease, rebirth

and suffering will also cease.

I would like to spend a little time on another important

meaning of interdependent origination – namely, interdependent

origination as an expression of the Middle Way. In Chapter 3

and Chapter 4, we had occasion to refer to the Middle Way, but

confined ourselves to only the most basic meaning of the term.

We said that the Middle Way means avoiding the extreme of

indulgence in pleasures of the senses and also the extreme of self-

mortification. In that context, the Middle Way is synonymous

with moderation.

In the context of interdependent origination, the Middle

Way has another meaning, which is related to its basic mean-

ing, but deeper. In this context, the Middle Way means avoid-

ing the extremes of eternalism and nihilism. How is this so?

The flame in an oil lamp exists dependent on the oil and the

wick. When either of these is absent, the flame will be extin-

guished. Therefore, the flame is neither permanent nor indepen-

dent. Similarly, this personality of ours depends on a combina-

tion of conditions: the afflictions and karma. It is neither per-

manent nor independent.

Recognizing the conditioned nature of our personalities, we

avoid the extreme of eternalism, that is, of affirming the exis-

tence of an independent, permanent self. Alternatively, recog-

nizing that this personality, this life, does not arise by accident

or mere chance but is conditioned by corresponding causes, we

avoid the extreme of nihilism, that is, of denying the relation

between actions and their consequences.

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Although nihilism is the primary cause of rebirth in states

of woe and is to be rejected, eternalism, too, is not conducive

to liberation. One who clings to the extreme of eternalism will

perform wholesome actions and be reborn in states of happiness,

as a human being or even as a god, but he will never attain lib-

eration. Through avoiding these two extremes – through under-

standing the Middle Way – we can achieve happiness in this life

and in future lives by performing wholesome actions and avoid-

ing unwholesome actions, and eventually achieve liberation as

well.

The Buddha constructed his teachings with infinite care.

Indeed, the way he taught is sometimes likened to the behavior

of a tigress toward her young. When a tigress carries her young

in her teeth, she is most careful to see that her grip is neither

too tight nor too loose. If her grip is too tight, it will injure or

kill her cub; if it is too loose, the cub will fall and will also be

hurt. Similarly, the Buddha was careful to see that we avoid the

extremes of eternalism and nihilism.

Because he saw that clinging to the extreme of eternalism

would bind us in samsara, the Buddha was careful to teach us to

avoid belief in an independent, permanent self; seeing that the

possibility of freedom could be destroyed by the sharp teeth of

belief in a self, he therefore asked us to avoid the extreme of eter-

nalism. Understanding that clinging to the extreme of nihilism

would lead to catastrophe and rebirth in the states of woe, the

Buddha was also careful to teach the reality of the law of cause

and effect, or moral responsibility; seeing that we would fall

into the misery of the lower realms should we deny this law, he

therefore taught us to avoid the extreme of nihilism. This dual

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objective is admirably achieved through the teaching of interde-

pendent origination, which safeguards not only our understand-

ing of the conditioned and impermanent nature of the personal-

ity, but also our understanding of the reality of the law of cause

and effect. In the context of interdependent origination, we have

established the conditioned and impermanent nature of the per-

sonality, or self, by exposing its dependent nature. In the chap-

ters that follow, we will arrive at the impermanence and imper-

sonality of the self through examining its composite nature and

analyzing it into its constituent parts. By these means, we will

elucidate the truth of not-self that opens the door to enlighten-

ment.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Three Universal Characteristics

The subject of this chapter is the three universal character-

istics of existence. This is an important part of the teach-

ing of the Buddha. Like the Four Noble Truths, karma, inter-

dependent origination, and the five aggregates, the teaching of

the three characteristics is part of what we might call the doc-

trinal contents of wisdom. In other words, when we talk about

the knowledge and understanding that are implied by wisdom, we have this teaching also in mind.

Before we examine the three characteristics one by one, let

us try to come to an understanding of what they mean and in

what way they are useful. First of all, what is a characteristic and

what is not? A characteristic is something that is necessarily con-

nected with something else. Because a characteristic is necessar-

ily connected with something, it can tell us about the nature of

that thing. Let us take an example. Heat, for instance, is a char-

acteristic of fire but not of water. Heat is a characteristic of fire

because it is always and invariably connected with fire, whereas

whether or not water is hot depends on external factors – an elec-

tric stove, the heat of the sun, and so forth. But the heat of fire

is natural to fire.

It is in this sense that the Buddha uses the term “charac-

teristic” to refer to facts about the nature of existence that are

always connected with existence or always found in existence.

The characteristic “heat” is always connected with fire. We can

understand something about the nature of fire from heat. We

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can understand that fire is hot and therefore potentially danger-

ous, that it can consume us and our possessions if not controlled.

Yet we can also use fire to cook our food, to warm ourselves, and

so forth. Thus the characteristic of heat tells us something about

fire, what fire is, and what to do with fire.

If we were to think of the characteristic of heat as connected

with water, it would not help us understand the nature of water

or use water intelligently because heat is not always connected

with water. Water cannot necessarily burn us or consume our

possessions, nor can we necessarily cook our food with water or

warm ourselves with water. Hence when the Buddha said that

there are three characteristics of existence, he meant that these

characteristics are always present in existence, and that they help

us understand what to do with existence.

The three characteristics of existence that we have in mind

are (1) impermanence, (2) suffering and (3) not-self. These three

characteristics are always present in or connected with existence,

and they tell us about the nature of existence. They help us know

what to do with existence. As a result of understanding the three

characteristics, we learn to develop renunciation, or detachment.

Once we understand that existence is universally characterized

by impermanence, suffering, and not-self, we eliminate our

attachment to existence. And once we eliminate our attachment

to existence, we gain the threshold of nirvana.

This is the purpose of understanding the three characteris-

tics: it removes attachment by removing delusion – the misun-

derstanding that existence is permanent, pleasant, and has some-

thing to do with the self. This is why understanding the three

characteristics is part of the contents of wisdom.

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Let us look at the first of the three characteristics of existence,

the characteristic of impermanence. The fact of impermanence

has been recognized not only in Buddhist thought but elsewhere

in the history of ideas. It was the ancient Greek philosopher

Heraclitus who remarked that one cannot step into the same

river twice. This observation, which implies the ever-changing

and transient nature of things, is a very Buddhistic one. In the

Buddhist scriptures, it is said that the world is impermanent like

autumn clouds, that birth and death are like a dance, and that

human life is like a flash of lightning or a waterfall. All these are

compelling images of impermanence which help us understand

that all things are marked or characterized by impermanence.

If we look at ourselves, we find that our bodies are imper-

manent and subject to constant change. We grow thin. We grow

old and gray – our teeth and hair fall out. If you need any proof

of the impermanence of the physical form, you need only look at

the photograph on your driver’s license or passport over the years.

Similarly, our mental states are impermanent. At one moment

we are happy, and at another moment sad. As infants, we hardly

understand anything; as adults in the prime of life, we under-

stand a great deal more; in old age, we lose the power of our

mental faculties and become like infants.

This is true also of the things we see around us. Not one

of the things we see around us will last forever – not the apart-

ment buildings, the temples, the rivers and islands, the moun-

tain chains, or the oceans. We know for a fact that all these nat-

ural phenomena – even those that appear to be the most dura-

ble, even the solar system itself – will one day decline and cease

to exist.

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This process of the constant change of things – personal

and impersonal, internal and external – goes on constantly even

without our noticing it, and affects us intimately in daily life.

Our relations with other people are subject to the characteris-

tic of impermanence and change. Friends become enemies; ene-

mies become friends. Enemies even become relatives, while rel-

atives become enemies. If we look closely at our lives, we can

see how all our relationships with other people are marked by

impermanence. Our possessions are also impermanent. All the

things that we dearly love – our homes, our automobiles, our

clothes – are impermanent. All of them will decay and even-

tually be destroyed. In every aspect of our lives – whether it be

mental or material, whether it be our relationships with others

or our possessions – impermanence is a fact that is verified by

direct, immediate observation.

Understanding impermanence is important not simply for

our practice of the Dharma but also in our daily lives. How often

do friendships deteriorate and end because one of the two per-

sons involved fails to notice that his or her friend’s attitudes and

interests have changed? How often do marriages fail because

one or both parties fail to take into account the fact that the

other partner has changed?

It is because we lock ourselves into fixed, artificial, unchang-

ing ideas of the characters and personalities of our friends and

relatives that we fail to develop our relations with them appro-

priately and hence often fail to understand one another. Similarly,

in our careers or public life, we cannot hope to succeed if we do

not keep abreast of changing situations, such as new trends in

our professions or disciplines. Whether in our personal lives or

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in our public ones, understanding impermanence is necessary if

we are to be effective and creative in how we handle our personal

and professional affairs.

Although understanding impermanence yields these imme-

diate benefits here and now, it is particularly effective as an aid

to our practice of the Dharma. The understanding of imper-

manence is an antidote to attachment and ill-will. It is also an

encouragement to our practice of the Dharma. And, finally, it

is a key to understanding the ultimate nature of things, the way

things really are.

Remembering death, especially, is said to be like a friend

and a teacher to one who wishes to practice the Dharma.

Remembering death acts as a discouragement to excessive

attachment and ill-will. How many quarrels, petty disagree-

ments, lifelong ambitions and enmities fade into insignificance

before recognition of the inevitability of death? Throughout the

centuries, Buddhist teachers have encouraged sincere practitio-

ners of the Dharma to remember death, to remember the imper-

manence of this personality.

Some years ago, I had a friend who went to India to study

meditation. He approached a very renowned and learned

Buddhist teacher and asked him for some meditation instruc-

tions. The teacher was reluctant to teach him because he was not

convinced of his sincerity. My friend persisted and asked him

again and again. Finally, the teacher told him to come the fol-

lowing day. Full of anticipation, my friend went to see him as

he had been instructed. The master said to him, “You will die;

meditate on that.”

Meditation on death is extremely beneficial. We all need to

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remember the certainty of our own deaths. From the moment of

birth, we move inexorably toward death. Remembering this – and

remembering that, at the time of death, wealth, family, and fame

will be of no use to us – we must turn our minds to practice of

the Dharma. We know that death is absolutely certain. There

has never been a single living being who has escaped it. And yet, although death itself is certain, the time of death is uncertain.

We can die at any moment. It is said that life is like a candle in

the wind, or a bubble of water: at any moment it may be snuffed

out, it may burst. Understanding that the time of death is uncer-

tain, and that we now have the conditions and opportunity to

practice the Dharma, we ought to practice it quickly, so as not

to waste this opportunity and precious human life.

Finally, understanding impermanence is an aid to under-

standing the ultimate truth about the nature of things. Seeing

that all things are perishable and change every moment, we also

begin to see that things have no substantial existence of their

own – that in our persons and in the things around us, there is

nothing like a self, nothing substantial. In this sense, imperma-

nence is directly related to the last of the three characteristics,

the characteristic of not-self. Understanding impermanence is a

key to understanding not-self. We will talk more about this later,

but for the moment let us go on to the second of the three char-

acteristics, the characteristic of suffering.

The Buddha said that whatever is impermanent is suffer-

ing, and whatever is impermanent and suffering is also not-self.

Whatever is impermanent is suffering because impermanence is

an occasion for suffering. Impermanence is an occasion for suf-

fering rather than a cause of suffering because impermanence is

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only an occasion for suffering as long as ignorance, craving, an

clinging are present. How is this so? In our ignorance of the real nature of things,

we crave and cling to objects in the forlorn hope that they may

be permanent, that they may yield permanent happiness. Failing

to understand that youth, health, and life itself are imperma-

nent, we crave them and cling to them. We long to hold onto our

youth and prolong our life, yet because they are impermanent by

nature, they slip through our fingers. When this occurs, imper-

manence is an occasion for suffering. Similarly, we fail to recog-

nize the impermanent nature of possessions, power, and pres-

tige, so we crave and cling to them. When they end, imperma-

nence is an occasion for suffering.

The impermanence of all situations in samsara is a particular

occasion for suffering when it occurs in the so-called fortunate

realms. It is said that the suffering of the gods is even greater

than the suffering of beings in the lower realms because the

gods see that they are about to fall from the heavens into those

lower realms of existence. Even the gods trembled when the

Buddha reminded them of impermanence. Thus because even

those pleasant experiences we crave and cling to are imperma-

nent, impermanence is an occasion for suffering, and whatever

is impermanent is suffering.

Now we come to the third universal characteristic of exis-

tence, the characteristic of not-self, impersonality, or insubstan-

tiality. This is one of the really distinct features of Buddhist

thought and of the teaching of the Buddha. During the later

development of religion and philosophy in India, Hindu schools

became increasingly similar to the teaching of the Buddha in

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their techniques of meditation and in some of their philosophi-

cal ideas. Thus it became necessary for Buddhist masters to point

out that there was still a distinctive feature that set Buddhism

apart from the Hindu schools that so closely resembled it. That

distinctive feature is the teaching of not-self.

Sometimes, this teaching of not-self is a cause of confusion

because people wonder how one can deny the self. After all, we

do say, “I am speaking” or “I am walking,” “I am called so and

so” or “I am the father (or the son) of such and such a person.”

How can we deny the reality of that “I”?

To clarify this, I think it is important to remember that the

Buddhist rejection of the “I” is not a rejection of this convenient

designation, the name or term “I.” Rather, it is a rejection of the

idea that this name or term “I” stands for a substantial, perma-

nent, and changeless reality. When the Buddha said that the five

factors of personal experience were not the self and that the self

was not to be found within them, he meant that, on analysis, this

name or term “I” does not correspond to any essence or entity.

The Buddha used the examples of a chariot and a forest to

explain the relation between the name or term “I” and the com-

ponents of personal experience. The Buddha explained that the

term “chariot” is simply a convenient name for a collection of

parts that are assembled in a particular way. The wheels are

not the chariot, nor is the axle, nor is the carriage, and so forth. Similarly, a single tree is not a forest, nor are a number of trees.

Yet there is no forest apart from individual trees, so the term

“forest” is just a convenient name for a collection of trees.

This is the thrust of the Buddha’s rejection of the self. His

rejection is a rejection of the belief in a real, independent, per-

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manent entity that is represented by the name or term “I.” Such

a permanent entity would have to be independent, would have

to be sovereign in the way a king is master of those around him.

It would have to be permanent, immutable, and impervious to

change, and such a permanent entity, such a self, is nowhere to

be found.

The Buddha applied the following analysis to indicate that

the self is nowhere to be found either in the body or the mind:

(1) The body is not the self, for if the body were the self, the

self would be impermanent, would be subject to change, decay, destruction, and death. Hence the body cannot be the self.

(2) The self does not possess the body, in the sense that I pos-

sess a car or a television, because the self cannot control the body.

The body falls ill, gets tired and old against our wishes. The body

has an appearance which often does not agree with our wishes.

Hence in no way does the self possess the body. (3) The self does

not exist in the body. If we search our bodies from the tops of our

heads to the tips of our toes, we can nowhere locate the self. The

self is not in the bone or in the blood, in the marrow or in the

hair or spittle. The self is nowhere to be found within the body.

(4) The body does not exist in the self. For the body to exist in

the self, the self would have to be found apart from the body and

mind, but the self is nowhere to be found.

In the same way, (1) the mind is not the self because, like

the body, The mind is subject to constant change and is agitated

like a monkey. The mind is happy one moment and unhappy the

next. Hence the mind is not the self because the mind is con-

stantly changing. (2) The self does not possess the mind because

the mind becomes excited or depressed against our wishes.

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Although we know that certain thoughts are wholesome and

certain thoughts unwholesome, the mind pursues unwholesome

thoughts and is indifferent toward wholesome thoughts. Hence

the self does not possess the mind because the mind acts inde-

pendently of the self. (3) The self does not exist in the mind. No

matter how carefully we search the contents of our minds, no

matter how carefully we search our feelings, ideas, and inclina-

tions, we can nowhere find the self in the mind and the men-

tal states. (4) The mind does not exist in the self either because

again the self would have to exist apart from the mind and body, but such a self is nowhere to be found.

There is a very simple exercise that any one of us can perform.

If we all sit quietly for a brief period of time and look within our

bodies and minds, without fail we find that we cannot locate a

self anywhere within the body or the mind. The only conclusion

possible is that “the self” is just a convenient name for a collec-

tion of factors. There is no self, no soul, no essence, no core of

personal experience apart from the ever-changing, interdepen-

dent, impermanent physical and mental factors of personal expe-

rience, such as our feelings, ideas, habits, and attitudes.

Why should we care to reject the idea of a self? How can

we benefit by rejecting the self? We can benefit in two impor-

tant ways. First of all, we can benefit on a mundane level, in our

everyday lives, in that we become more creative, more comfort-

able, more open people. As long as we cling to the self, we will

always have to defend ourselves, our property, our prestige, opin-

ions, and even our statements. But once we give up the belief in

an independent and permanent self, we will be able to relate to

other people and situations without paranoia. We will be able to

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act freely, spontaneously, and creatively. Understanding not-self

is therefore an aid to living.

Second, and even more important, understanding not-self is

a key to enlightenment. The belief in a self is synonymous with

ignorance, and ignorance is the most basic of the three afflictions. Once we identify, imagine, or conceive of ourselves as an entity,

we immediately create a schism, a separation between ourselves

and the people and things around us. Once we have this con-

ception of self, we respond to the people and things around us

with either attachment or aversion. In this sense, the self is the

real villain of the piece.

Seeing that the self is the source and the cause of all suffer-

ing, and that rejection of the self is the cause of the end of suf-

fering, why not do our best to reject and eliminate this idea of a

self, rather than trying to defend, protect, and preserve it? Why

not recognize that personal experience is like a banana tree or

an onion – that when we take it apart piece by piece, examining

it critically and analytically, we will find that it is empty of any

essential, substantial core, that it is devoid of self?

When we understand – through study, consideration, and

meditation – that all things are impermanent, are full of suf-

fering, and are not-self, and when our understanding of these

truths is no longer merely intellectual or academic but becomes

part of our immediate experience, then the understanding of

the three universal characteristics will free us of the funda-

mental errors that imprison us within the cycle of birth and

death – the errors of seeing things as permanent, happy, and

having to do with the self. When these delusions are removed, wisdom arises, just as, when darkness is removed, light arises.

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And when wisdom arises, we experience the peace and freedom

of nirvana.

In this chapter we have confined ourselves to looking at per-

sonal experience in terms of body and mind. In the next chapter

we will look more deeply into the Buddhist analysis of personal

experience in terms of the elements of our physical and mental

universe.

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CHAPTER T WELVE

The Five Aggregates

In this chapter we will look at the teaching of the five aggre-

gates – form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness.

In other words, we will look at the Buddhist analysis of personal

experience, or the personality.

In the preceding chapters, I have several times had occa-

sion to note that Buddhist teachings have been found relevant to

modern life and thought in the fields of science, psychology, and

so forth. This is also the case for the analysis of personal expe-

rience in terms of the five aggregates. Modern psychiatrists and

psychologists have been particularly interested in this analysis. It

has even been suggested that, in the analysis of personal expe-

rience in terms of the five aggregates, we have a psychological

equivalent to the table of elements worked out in modern sci-

ence – that is to say, a very careful inventory and evaluation of the

elements of our experience.

What we are going to do now is basically an extension and

refinement of our analysis at the end of Chapter 11. There, we

spent some time on the teaching of not-self, exploring briefly

the way the analysis of personal experience can be carried out

along two lines: with regard to the body, and with regard to the

mind. You will recall that we examined the body and mind to

see whether we could locate the self, and saw that the self is not

to be found in either of them. We concluded that the term “self”

is just a convenient term for a collection of physical and mental

factors, in the same way that “forest” is just a convenient term

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for a collection of trees. In this chapter we will take our analysis

still further. Rather than looking at personal experience simply

in terms of body and mind, we will analyze it in terms of the

five aggregates.

Let us first look at the aggregate of matter, or form. The

aggregate of form corresponds to what we would call material, or

physical, factors of experience. It includes not only our own bod-

ies but also the material objects that surround us – the earth, the

trees, the buildings, and the objects of everyday life. Specifically,

the aggregate of form includes the five physical sense organs and

the corresponding material objects of those sense organs: the

eyes and visible objects, the ears and audible objects, the nose

and olfactory objects, the tongue and objects of taste, and the

skin and tangible objects.

But physical elements by themselves are not enough to pro-

duce experience. The simple contact between eyes and visi-

ble objects, or ears and audible objects, cannot result in experi-

ence. The eyes can be in conjunction with a visible object indefi-

nitely without producing experience; the ears can be exposed to

a sound indefinitely with the same result. Only when the eyes, a

visible object, and consciousness come together is the experience

of a visible object produced. Consciousness is therefore an indis-

pensable element in the production of experience.

Before we go on to our consideration of the mental fac-

tors of personal experience, I would like to mention briefly the

existence of one more set of an organ and its object, and here

I speak of the sixth sense – the mind. This is in addition to the

five physical sense organs (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and skin).

Just as the five physical sense organs have their corresponding

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material objects, the mind has for its object ideas, or properties

(dharmas). And as in the case of the five physical sense organs,

consciousness must be present to unite the mind and its object

so as to produce experience.

Let us now look at the mental factors of experience and see

whether we can understand how consciousness turns the physi-

cal factors of existence into personal, conscious experience. First

of all, we must remember that consciousness is mere awareness

of, or mere sensitivity to, an object. When the physical factors of

experience – for example, the eyes and a visible object – come into

contact, and when consciousness, too, becomes associated with

the material factors of experience, visual consciousness arises.

This is mere awareness of a visible object, not anything like what

we would normally call personal experience. Our everyday per-

sonal experience is produced through the functioning of the other

three major mental factors of experience: the aggregate of feel-

ing, the aggregate of perception, and the aggregate of volition, or

mental formation. These three aggregates function to turn this

mere awareness of the object into personal experience.

The aggregate of feeling, or sensation, is of three kinds –

pleasant, unpleasant, and indifferent. When an object is expe-

rienced, that experience takes on one of these emotive tones,

either the tone of pleasure, the tone of displeasure, or the tone

of indifference.

Let us look next at the aggregate of perception. This is an

aggregate that many people find difficult to understand. When

we speak of perception, we have in mind the activity of recogni-

tion, or identification. In a sense, we are talking about attaching

a name to an object of experience. The function of perception is

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to turn an indefinite experience into an identifiable, recogniz-

able one. Here we are speaking of the formulation of a concep-

tion, or an idea, about a particular object. As with feeling, where

we have an emotive element in the form of pleasure, displeasure,

or indifference, with perception we have a conceptual element

in the form of the introduction of a definite, determinate idea

about the object of experience.

Finally, there is the aggregate of volition, or mental formation,

which can be described as a conditioned response to the object

of experience. In this sense it partakes of the meaning of habit

as well. We spent some time discussing volition in Chapter 10,

when we considered the twelve components of interdependent

origination. You will remember that we described volition as the

impressions created by previous actions, the habit energy stored

up over the course of countless former lifetimes. Here, as one

of the five aggregates, volition plays a similar role. But volition

has not only a static value but also a dynamic value because, just

as our present actions are conditioned by past actions, so our

responses here and now are motivated and directed in a partic-

ular way by volition. Volition therefore has a moral dimension,

just as perception has a conceptual dimension and feeling has an

emotive dimension.

You will notice that I have used the terms “volition” and

“mental formation” together. This is because each of these terms

represents one half of the meaning of the original term: mental

formation represents the half that comes from the past, and voli-

tion represents the half that functions here and now. Mental for-

mation and volition work together to determine our responses to

the objects of experience, and these responses have moral con-

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sequences in the form of wholesome, unwholesome, and neutral

effects.

We can now see how the physical and mental factors of expe-

rience work together to produce personal experience. To make

this a little clearer, let us say that you decide to take a walk in the

garden. As you walk, your eyes come into contact with a visible

object. As your attention focuses on that object, your conscious-

ness becomes aware of a visible object which is as yet indeter-

minate. Your aggregate of perception then identifies that visible

object as, let us say, a snake. Once that happens, you respond to

the object with the aggregate of feeling-the feeling of displea-

sure. Finally, you react to that visible object with the aggregate

of volition, with the intentional action of perhaps running away

or picking up a stone.

In all our daily activities, we can see how the five aggre-

gates work together to produce personal experience. At this

very moment, for instance, there is contact between two ele-

ments of the aggregate of form – the letters on the page and your

eyes. Your consciousness becomes aware of the letters on the

page. Your aggregate of perception identifies the words that are

written there. Your aggregate of feeling produces an emotional

response – pleasure, displeasure, or indifference. Your aggre-

gate of volition responds with a conditioned reaction – sitting at

attention, daydreaming, or perhaps yawning. We can analyze all

our personal experience in terms of the five aggregates.

There is one point, however, that must be remembered about

the nature of the five aggregates, and that is that each of them is

in constant change. The elements that constitute the aggregate

of form are impermanent and are in a state of constant change.

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We discussed this in Chapter 11, when we noted that the body

grows old, weak, and sick, and that the things around us are

also impermanent and constantly changing. Our feelings, too,

are constantly changing. Today we may respond to a particular

situation with a feeling of pleasure; tomorrow, with displeasure.

Today we may perceive an object in a particular way; later, under

different circumstances, our perceptions will change. In semi-

darkness, we perceive a rope to be a snake; the moment the light

of a torch falls on that object, we perceive it to be a rope.

Our perceptions, like our feelings and like the material

objects of our experience, are ever-changing and impermanent;

so, too, are our volitional responses. We can alter our habits. We

can learn to be kind and compassionate. We can acquire the atti-

tudes of renunciation, equanimity, and so forth. Consciousness,

too, is impermanent and constantly changing. Consciousness

arises dependent on an object and a sense organ. It cannot exist

independently. As we have seen, all the physical and mental

factors of our experience – like our bodies, the physical objects

around us, our minds, and our ideas – are impermanent and

constantly changing. All these aggregates are constantly chang-

ing and impermanent. They are processes, not things. They are

dynamic, not static.

What is the use of this analysis of personal experience in

terms of the five aggregates? What is the use of this reduction

of the apparent unity of personal experience into the elements

of form, feeling, perception, volition or mental formation, and

consciousness? The purpose is to create the wisdom of not-self.

What we wish to achieve is a way of experiencing the world that

is not constructed on and around the idea of a self. We want to

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see personal experience in terms of processes – in terms of imper-

sonal functions rather than in terms of a self and what affects a

self – because this will create an attitude of equanimity, which

will help us overcome the emotional disturbances of hope and

fear about the things of the world.

We hope for happiness, we fear pain. We hope for praise, we

fear blame. We hope for gain, we fear loss. We hope for fame,

we fear infamy. We live in a state of alternate hope and fear. We

experience these hopes and fears because we understand happi-

ness, pain, and so forth in terms of the self: we understand them

as personal happiness and pain, personal praise and blame, and

so on. But once we understand them in terms of impersonal pro-

cesses, and once – through this understanding – we get rid of the

idea of a self, we can overcome hope and fear. We can regard

happiness and pain, praise and blame, and all the rest with equa-

nimity, with even-mindedness. Only then will we no longer be

subject to the imbalance of alternating between hope and fear.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Fundamentals in Practice

By way of conclusion, I would like to reflect on what we have

discussed over the course of the preceding chapters and

relate it to what we can do in our own personal lives, both now

and in the future.

The teachings of the Buddha are exceedingly vast and very

profound. Thus far, we have only managed to survey a few of

the fundamental teachings of the Buddha, and these only super-

ficially. You may feel that we have covered a lot, and that it is

impossible to practice everything we have discussed. Indeed, it

is said that it is difficult, even for a monk living in isolation, to

practice all the fundamental teachings of the Buddha: small

wonder that it may also be difficult for laymen and laywomen

like ourselves, who have many secular responsibilities to fulfill.

Nonetheless, if we succeed in sincerely cultivating and practicing

even a few of the many teachings of the Buddha, we will have

succeeded in making this life more meaningful. Moreover, we

will be certain that we will again encounter circumstances favor-

able to the practice of the Dharma, and to the eventual realiza-

tion of liberation.

Everyone can achieve the highest goal in Buddhism, be he or

she a layperson or a member of the monastic order. All a person

need do is make an honest effort to follow the Noble Eightfold

Path. It is said that those who have realized the truth, like the

Buddha Shakyamuni and his prominent disciples, did not do so

accidentally. They did not fall from the sky like rain, nor spring

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up from the earth like grain. The Buddha and his disciples were

once ordinary sentient beings like you and me. They were once

afflicted by impurities of the mind – attachment, aversion, and

ignorance. It was through coming into contact with the Dharma,

through purifying their words and deeds, through developing

their minds, and through acquiring wisdom that they became

free, exalted beings able to teach and help others realize the

truth. There is therefore no doubt that, if we apply ourselves to

the teachings of the Buddha, we, too, can attain the ultimate

goal of Buddhism. We, too, can become like the Buddha and

his prominent disciples.

It is of no use merely to listen to the Dharma or to read the

Dharma, merely to write articles about the Dharma or give lec-

tures about it, if we do not put it into practice. It has been said

that those of us who call ourselves Buddhists can profit by occa-

sionally taking stock. If we see that, over the preceding years

or months, our practice of the Buddha’s teachings has brought

about a change in the quality of our experience – and it will

probably be only a small change – then we know that the teach-

ings are having some effect.

If all of us put the teachings of the Buddha into practice, there

is no doubt that we will realize their benefits. If we seek to avoid

harming others, if we try our best to help others whenever pos-

sible, if we learn to be mindful, if we learn to develop our ability

to concentrate our minds, if we cultivate wisdom through study,

careful consideration, and meditation, there is no doubt that the

Dharma will benefit us. It will first lead us to happiness and pros-

perity in this life and in the next. Eventually, it will lead us to the

ultimate goal of liberation, the supreme bliss of nirvana.

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Part Two

The Mahayana

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Origins of the Mahayana Tradition

It must be said at the outset that, given the vastness of the

Mahayana tradition, we cannot hope to do more than intro-

duce its major trends in the space of a few short chapters.

However, regardless of our personal inclinations toward or com-

mitments to any one of the Buddhist traditions, we must recog-

nize the fact that the Mahayana has contributed a great deal to

Buddhist thought and culture. It has produced a vast literature,

many works of art, and many different techniques for personal

development. Many countries throughout Asia have been influ-

enced by the Mahayana, and although it was neglected by mod-

ern scholars in comparison to the Theravada, there is now a tre-

mendous interest in Mahayana literature and philosophy and in

the path of the Bodhisattva. It is therefore appropriate that we

should devote eight chapters to looking at the origins and devel-

opment of the Mahayana tradition.

I have chosen to begin by considering the origins of the

Mahayana because I believe that if we do not understand and

appreciate the reasons why this tradition arose – its seeds, so to

speak, in the primeval soil of the Buddhist tradition – it will be

difficult for us to see the Mahayana from an objective perspec-

tive. I would like to look first at the very earliest period in the

establishment of the Buddhist tradition, that is, at the life of the

Buddha Shakyamuni himself.

The Buddha Shakyamuni taught for forty-five years at many

places in north east central India. He is universally believed

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to have taught innumerable living beings. They included not

only human beings from all walks of life, but also animals

and supra human beings such as the gods of the various heav-

ens and the under world. The Buddha is also acknowledged by

all the Buddhist traditions to have performed many extraordi-

nary and inconceivable miracles of various kinds for the sake of

Enlightening living beings. The Buddha was not a man nor a

god as He himself avowed. But if he was not a god, he was cer-

tainly divine, exalted and supramundane, because he had made

himself so over the course of countless existences. Indeed, all

Buddhists believe that the Buddha is far greater than any god,

his qualities and activities more beneficent and immense. The

Buddha Shakyamuni set an example by his own career that peo-

ple could emulate. The goal of this career was Enlightenment and

Buddhahood and the way was the way of the Bodhisattva. The

Buddha spoke of the goal of enlightenment and Buddhahood as

well as of the goal of Nirvana. He himself had thoroughly taught

the way of attaining the goal of Buddhahood by means of the

practice of the perfections of the Bodhisattva in the many tales

of his former existences.

The Buddha Shakyamuni allowed his followers to accept

and adapt his teaching to their own abilities and aspirations.

While never abandoning the cardinal virtues of morality and

wisdom, the Buddha permitted a great deal of scope for indi-

vidual expression. He encouraged free inquiry among the laity

and democracy within the monastic community. This is evident

in many places throughout his teachings. There is, for example, the famous doctrine he articulated in his advice to the Kalamas,

when he said that one should not rely on secondary means of ver-

152

ifying assertions about the nature of things, but test such asser-

tions in the light of one’s own personal experience and only then

accept them as true.

In a similar vein, he said that one should test the truth of

assertions in the light of the criteria of observation, reasoning,

and self-consistency, the way a wise man tests the purity of gold

by cutting, rubbing, and heating it. Again, toward the end of

his career, the Buddha told his disciples to be lamps unto them-

selves, to light their own way with their own reasoning. His last

words were, ‘Subject to change are all compounded things; work

out your liberation with diligence.’

The Buddha also encouraged self-reliance in his instruc-

tions to the community of monks regarding the code of monas-

tic discipline. Consequently, he told Ananda that, after he him-

self had died, the members of the Order would be free to abol-

ish the lesser rules of monastic discipline if they saw fit. Indeed,

it is significant that the Buddha even refused to appoint a succes-

sor to head the Buddhist community after his death. All these

facts point to the climate that existed in the very early Buddhist

community – a climate of free inquiry, democracy, and indepen-

dence.

After the Buddha’s death, his teachings were preserved in

an oral tradition that was handed down from one generation

of followers to another, maintained in their collective memory.

Literacy was a privilege of the elite in India at that time, and it is

another indication of the premium placed on democracy within

the Buddhist tradition that literary formulation of the teach-

ing was neglected for so long. Many people were not literate, so

word of mouth was the universal medium for preservation and

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dissemination of the Dharma. During the five hundred years

when the teaching was preserved orally, a number of assemblies

or councils were convened to organize, systematize, and deter-

mine the commonly accepted versions of the doctrinal teach-

ing and the monastic discipline, or Vinaya. There were certainly

three and maybe more than six of these assemblies convened

during this period at various places throughout India. The result

was the emergence of a great many schools whose doctrines and

disciplinary rules varied to a greater or lesser degree.

The First Council was certainly held immediately after the

Buddha died at Rajagriha the capital of Magadha. There it was

asked whether the council should proceed to abolish the lesser

precepts, as the Buddha had told Ananda the Order might do

if it saw fit. Unfortunately, Ananda had neglected to ask the

Buddha which were the lesser precepts. This uncertainty led the

presiding Elder, Maha Kashyapa to recommend that the assem-

bly retain all the rules of discipline without any modifications.

This fact is significant because it indicates that the question of

disciplinary rules was debated at the time of the First Council.

The question was to arise again at the Second Council and was

the major issue there.

In addition, the records of the First Council tell us the story

of a monk named Purana who arrived at Rajagriha just as the

assembly was concluding its deliberations. He was invited by the

organizers to participate in the closing phases of the council but

declined, saying that he would prefer to remember the teaching of

the Buddha as he had heard it from the Buddha himself. This fact

is significant because it indicates that there were already people

who preferred to preserve an independent tradition, to remember

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the Dharma they themselves had heard from the Buddha. Both

episodes indicate the degree of freedom of thought that existed

at the time of the early Buddhist community.

Let us now look at the record of the Second Council which

was held about a hundred years later. At this council, the issue

that dominated the debate, and that precipitated the calling of

the council was disciplinary. A number of monks had taken up

practices which the elder monks considered breaches of monastic

discipline. There were ten such practices, including carrying salt

in a hollowed horn, which was considered a breach of the rule

forbidding the storage of food; seeking permission for an action

after the action had already been done; and accepting gold and

silver, which was considered a breach of the rule forbidding the

accumulation of wealth. The erring monks were declared in viola-

tion of the orthodox code of discipline and censured accordingly.

Again the conservative stand of Maha Kashyapa was adopted by

the Elders at the council, and indeed the rules of monastic disci-

pline have remained virtually unchanged over the centuries not-

withstanding many actual modifications in practice.

In spite of the apparently easy resolution of the disciplinary

dispute, the years after the Second Council saw the emergence

and proliferation of many separate schools such as the Maha

Sanghikas who some regard as the progenitors of the Mahayana,

Vatsiputriyas and others. Consequently, by the time of the Third

Council, held during the reign of Emperor Ashoka, in the third

century b.c.e., there were already at least eighteen schools, each

with its own doctrines and disciplinary rules.

Two schools dominated the deliberations at the Third

Council, an analytical school called the Vibhajyavadins, and a

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school of realistic pluralism known as the Sarvastivadins. The

council decided in favor of the analytical school and it was the

views of this school that were carried to Sri Lanka by Ashoka’s

missionaries, led by his son Mahendra. There it became known

as the Theravada. The adherents of the Sarvastivada mostly

migrated to Kashmir in the north west of India where the school

became known for its popularization of the path of the perfec-

tions of the Bodhisattva.

At yet another council, held during the reign of King

Kanishka in the first century c.e., two more important schools

emerged – the Vaibhashikas and the Sautrantikas. These differed

on the authenticity of the Abhidharma, the Vaibhashikas hold-

ing that the Abhidharma was taught by the Buddha, while the

Sautrantikas held that it was not.

By this time, Mahayana accounts tell us, a number of assem-

blies had been convened in order to compile the scriptures of

the Mahayana tradition which were already reputed to be vast

in number. In the north and south west of India as well as at

Nalanda in Magadha, the Mahayana was studied and taught.

Many of the important texts of the Mahayana were believed

to have been related by Maitreya the future Buddha and other

celestial Bodhisattvas or preserved among the serpent gods of

the underworld until their discovery by Mahayana masters such

as Nagarjuna.

The appearance of all these schools each having its own

version of the teaching of the Buddha clearly illustrates the

immense diversity that characterized the Buddhist tradition at

the beginning of the common era. Although differing in many

particulars regarding the question of the authenticity of texts

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and teachings, the Buddhist schools continued to acknowledge a

common identity as Buddhists. The single exception to this rule

being the Vatsiputriyas who because of their adherence to the

notion of an essential personality were universally dubbed here-

tics by the other schools. The formation of the extant written canons of the schools,

both in India and in Sri Lanka, is now generally accepted by

scholars to belong to a relatively late period. The Mahayana

teachings, as well as those of the other schools, including the

Theravada, began to appear in written form more than five hun-

dred years after the time of the Buddha. We know with certainty

that the Theravada canon – recorded in Pali, an early Indian ver-

nacular language – was first compiled in the middle of the first

century b.c.e. The earliest Mahayana sutras, such as the Lotus

Sutra and the Sutra of the Perfection of Wisdom are usually dated

no later than the first century c.e. Therefore, the written canons

of the Theravada and Mahayana traditions date to roughly the

same period.

After the death of the Buddha, the views of the elders among

the monks dominated Buddhist religious life, but by the first

century c.e., dissatisfaction with the ideal of the Arhat whose

goal was the achievement of personal freedom had grown signif-

icantly among the monastic and lay communities. The followers

of the Buddha were presented with a choice between two differ-

ent ideals of religious life – Arhatship and Buddhahood.

While the aspiring Arhat is interested in gaining freedom for

him- or herself, the Bodhisattva or Buddha to be is committed

to achieving Enlightenment for the sake of all living beings.

The essence of the Mahayana conception of religious life

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is compassion for all living beings. Indeed, it is in this con-

text that we should understand the increasing popularity of the

Mahayana. It is hardly surprising if many devoted Buddhists

chose to follow the example of the Buddha whose compassion

and wisdom were infinite and not that of his prominent disci-

ples, the elders and Arhats who for the most part seemed aus-

tere and remote. In short, the Mahayana, with its profound phi-

losophy, its universal compassion and its abundant use of skill-

ful means, rapidly began to attract an enthusiastic following not

only in India, but in the newly Buddhist lands of central Asia.

I would like to conclude this chapter by spending a few

moments on a brief comparison of a few ideas from the canon

of the Theravada tradition and some of the salient features of

the Mahayana that appear prominently in Mahayana texts like

the Lotus Sutra, the Perfection of Wisdom Discourses and the

Lankavatara Sutra. It is often forgotten that not only are there

many virtually identical Discourses belonging to both canons,

but also that there are traces in the Theravada canon of some of

the characteristic themes of the Mahayana – such as the supra-

mundane nature of the Buddha, and the doctrines of emptiness

and the creative and luminous nature of mind.

For example, in the Theravada canon we find the Buddha

repeatedly referring to himself not by name but as the Tathagata,

one who is identical with suchness, or reality. Nonetheless, the

Buddha is credited with the power to produce emanations for

the edification of living beings. These passages contained in the

Theravada canon suggest the transcendental, supramundane, and

inconceivable nature of the Buddha, an idea very important to the

Mahayana. Again according to the Theravada cannon, the Buddha

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extolled emptiness in the highest terms, calling it profound and

going beyond the world. He said that form, feeling and the like

were illusory, mere bubbles. Phenomena are nothing in themselves.

They are unreal deceptions. This is a theme taken up and elabo-

rated in the Mahayana Perfection of Wisdom literature.

Again, according to the Theravada canon the Buddha said

that ignorance and imagination are responsible for the appear-

ance of the world. He referred to the parable of the Demigod

Vepachitta who was bound or freed according to the nature of

his thoughts to illustrate this point. The original nature of con-

sciousness however shines like a jewel, intrinsically pure and

undefiled. These ideas are developed in Mahayana sutras like

the Lankavatara Sutra. They are the very foundation of the

Mahayana view of the nature of the mind.

Thus the origins of the Mahayana tradition can be found

in the very earliest phases of the Buddhist tradition and in the

Buddha’s own career. The five hundred years after the death of

the Buddha witnessed the emergence of differing traditions of

interpretation that, whatever their emphasis, all look back to the

original, infinitely varied, and profound teaching of the Buddha.

By the first century c.e., the formation of the Mahayana was vir-

tually complete, and most of the major Mahayana sutras were

in existence. We will discuss three of these sutras in the follow-

ing chapters.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Lotus Sutra

The period between the Second Council and the first century

b.c.e. saw the growth of Mahayana literature in India and

the emergence of a number of important texts. The first to appear

were transitional works like the Lalitavistara and Mahavastu,

which belong to derivative schools of the Mahasanghikas and

describe the career of the Buddha in exalted, supra mundane

terms. These were followed by more than a hundred definitive

Mahayana sutras, like the former, composed in Sanskrit and

hybrid Sanskrit.

Most of these sutras are quite extensive; examples include

the Lotus Sutra, the Perfection of Wisdom Sutra in eight thousand

lines, the Samadhiraja Sutra, and the Lankavatara Sutra. They

make liberal use of parables and examples and put forward the

major themes of the Mahayana tradition in a discursive, didac-

tic way. These ideas were supported some time later by the sys-

tematic arguments found in the commentarial or exegetical lit-

erature, known as shastras, composed by outstanding figures like

Nagarjuna, Asanga, and Vasubandhu.

Among the many Mahayana sutras now available to us, I

will devote this and the next two chapters to three that exem-

plify important themes and phases in the development of

Mahayana Buddhism: (1) the Lotus Sutra (Saddharmapundarika

Sutra), (2) the Heart Sutra (Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutra), and

(3) the Lankavatara Sutra.

In many ways, the Lotus is the foundation sutra of the

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Mahayana tradition. It has great influence in the Mahayana

Buddhist world, not only in India but also in China and Japan, where it is the favorite text of the T’ien-t’ai and Nichiren schools. Moreover, insofar as it expounds the way of great compassion,

the Lotus Sutra represents the essence of the Mahayana tradi-

tion’s fundamental orientation, which is great compassion.

Let us examine a number of themes in the Lotus Sutra that

I feel are particularly important for an understanding of the

Mahayana tradition. Let us look first at what the sutra has to

say about the Buddha. In Chapter 14, I mentioned a number

of suggestions found in the Theravada canon that point to the

supramundane and transcendental nature of the Buddha. This

theme is elaborated on in formative, transitional texts like the

Mahavastu and Lalitavistara. In the Lotus Sutra, the supramun-

dane, eternal, and ever-active nature of the Buddha is explained

very clearly and in considerable detail. The message is that the

form of the Buddha Shakyamuni perceived by people in the

sixth century b.c.e. was simply an apparition of the transcen-

dental Buddha projected for the purpose of enlightening sentient

beings. Although the world perceived the birth of Siddhartha

among the Shakya clan, the event of his great renunciation,

the years of his struggle for enlightenment, his attainment of

enlightenment under the bodhi tree, his forty-five years of teach-

ing, and his passing away into extinction at the age of eighty, all

this was in fact merely a show for the purpose of enlightening

sentient beings.

The case for this idea is advanced in the Lotus Sutra with

the help of the parable of the physician that appears in chapter

sixteen of the text. In this parable, a well-qualified and famous

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physician who has been away from home for a long time returns

to find that his sons have taken poison and are seriously ill. He

sets about preparing an excellent remedy for them according to

his knowledge of medicine. Some of his sons immediately take

the medicine he offers and are cured of their illness.

Other sons, however, although they have looked forward to

their father’s return and assistance, are now unwilling to take the

medicine he offers because they are already too deeply affected by

the poison. They fail to appreciate the excellent properties of the

medicine and continue in their grave illness. Seeing this, their

father devises a way to induce them to be cured: he tells them

that he is already advanced in years, that the time of his death

is near, and that he must again travel to another country. He

then leaves and has a message sent back to his sons telling them

that he has died. Moved by the news of their father’s death – and

desperate now that there will be no one to look after them and

cure them – they take the medicine and are cured. Hearing of

their recovery, the father returns and is happily reunited with

his sons.

Through this parable, we are given to understand that the

Buddha’s appearance in the world is like the return of the phy-

sician who has journeyed to a neighboring country. Upon his

return, he finds that his sons, the people of the world, have

ingested the poison of greed, anger, and delusion and are dis-

tressed, ill, and suffering. He devises a cure for their suffering,

which is the Dharma, the path to liberation. Although some

of the people of the world follow the path and achieve libera-

tion, there are others who are too deeply afflicted by the poison

of greed, anger, and delusion and who therefore refuse to follow

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the path which is good in the beginning, middle, and end. As

a result, a device has to be employed to induce and encourage

them to take the medicine, follow the path, and achieve libera-

tion. That device is the apparent extinction of the Buddha – his

entry into final nirvana. According to this parable, therefore, the

historical Buddha never really lived and never really died, but

was simply one of the many appearances of the supramundane, transcendental Buddha.

The sutra reinforces this point in chapter eleven, through

the appearance of an earlier Buddha, the Buddha Prabhutaratna, who had become a Tathagata, or enlightened one, eons before.

While Shakyamuni is engaged in preaching the Lotus Sutra

(as described in that sutra itself), Prabhutaratna appears to the

assembled multitude, who see him within a jeweled stupa, his

body perfectly formed. This is another indication not only that

the Buddha Shakyamuni has not yet entered into final extinction, but also that the Buddhas who preceded him did not do so.

According to the Lotus Sutra, then, Buddhas possess a

supramundane and transcendental, indefinite nature; they also

respond and cater to the needs of sentient beings according to

their individual abilities. In chapter five of the sutra, the Buddha

uses the similes of rain and of light to illustrate this point. He

says that, just as rain falls on all vegetation – trees, shrubs,

medicinal herbs, and grasses – without discrimination, and each

according to its nature and capacity takes nourishment from the

rain, so the Buddhas, through their appearance in the world

and their teachings, nourish all sentient beings, each according

to his or her individual ability – whether great, like the tall trees;

middling, like smaller trees and shrubs; or low, like the grasses.

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Just as each plant benefits from rain according to its capacity, so

every sentient being benefits from the appearance of the Buddha

according to his or her capacity. And just as the light of the sun

and moon falls equally on hills, valleys, and plains, illuminating

each according to its position and in its own way and time, so

the Buddha’s presence sheds light on all sentient beings – be they

high, middling, or low – according to their individual positions

and capacities. It is in this sense that the infinite, supramundane

Buddha appears in countless forms to benefit sentient beings: in

the form of an Arhat, a Bodhisattva, a friend of virtue, and even

in the form of an ordinary, unenlightened sentient being.

We know that it is difficult to know the ultimate nature of

reality, the truth: the way things really are is not amenable to

words. This is why the Buddha remained silent when he was

asked whether the world is infinite or finite, both or neither, and whether the Tathagata exists or does not exist after death,

or both or neither. The ultimate nature of reality has to be real-

ized by oneself. This is reflected in the distinction between the

Dharma that one becomes acquainted with indirectly, through

the help of others, and the Dharma that one realizes for oneself.

But this realization of the truth does not come easily. It has to be

achieved by oneself, and it has to be the result of a direct, inner

realization. Thus, motivated by great compassion, the Buddhas

appear in the world to teach and help sentient beings achieve

this realization of the ultimate nature of reality by stages. They

do this through skillful means, according to the capacities and

inclinations of sentient beings.

This idea regarding the differing capacities and inclinations

of sentient beings is not peculiar to the Mahayana tradition. In

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the Theravada canon, also, the Buddha likens the varying capac-

ities of living beings to the different positions of lotuses in a

pond – some are submerged, others are partly submerged, and

still others are free of the water and blossoming in the clear air

and sunlight. Similarly, living beings are of inferior, middling,

and superior capacity. The Theravada tradition also includes the

idea of the Buddha’s skillful means, as exemplified in differ-

ent ways of teaching, such as directly and indirectly. This idea

is reflected, too, in the distinction between the conventional

and the ultimate truth. This notion of skillful means is devel-

oped and refined in the Mahayana tradition and is an extremely

important theme of the Lotus Sutra.

Because the ultimate nature of reality is difficult to realize,

and because sentient beings differ in their capacities and incli-

nations, the Buddhas resorted to skillful means to lead each