Drifting Like Foam - Disintegrating and Reintegrating Aggregates in the Phena Sutta

Form is like a glob of foam;
feeling, a bubble;
perception, a mirage;
fabrications, a banana tree;
consciousness, a magic trick —
this has been taught
by the Kinsman of the Sun.
However you observe them,
appropriately examine them,
they're empty, void
to whoever sees them
appropriately.

Impermanence and Insubstantiality

Poetically evocative in its weaving together of imagery to convey the impermanent, we find in the Pheṇapiṇḍūpama Sutta a sweeping landscape portrait depicting the frequently overlooked realities of lived experience. As the world erupts in chaos upon crisis upon catastrophe, some may seek ways to deny the reality of mortality, the reality of epidemiological, societal, and environmental illness, the reality of impermanence. In some ways, we are wired, numbed, conditioned to ignore these realities in a desperate struggle for self-preservation. The "Kinsman of the Sun," however, suggests an alternative.

Perhaps counter to popular opinion, it's in our best interest to fully realize the insubstantial nature of not only the external world but the very constituents of who we think we are in order to sustain some semblance of sanity.

Poignant and piercing in how succinctly he summarizes the reality of impermanence, here the Buddha compares the aggregates, the psycho-physical heaps of phenomena that comprise a person, to insubstantial aspects of the natural and mental spheres. Given its timely content, relevant as much to today's challenges as those of yesteryear or yester-millenia in the case of its original context, we stew in the Pheṇa Sutta, letting its teachings on impermanence and insubstantiality percolate.

Aggregates

In each line of the verse section, we find reference to one of the aggregates, the clumps, piles, heaps so often mistaken for me and mine. Accompanying each of these aggregates is a carefully chosen simile.

Form is like foam erupting from pressure as a river's current flows downstream.

Feeling is like a bubble at the water's surface that pops shortly after floating up from the depths.

Perception is like a mirage whose shimmering distortions manifest out of sunlight.

Fabrication is like a banana tree whose core consists of insubstantial onion-like layers.

Consciousness is like a magic trick conjured at the hands of another.

A common theme pervades all of them. In every case, they are not what they appear to be. Some element of illusion or deception is present, even if unintended. The aggregates, these mental and material pieces of our lived experience that so often become objects of attachment for us, are unreliable.

Disintegrating and Reintegrating

Notice that in none of these similes are any of these phenomena said to be non-existent. Rather, they're not as they appear to be. Foam disintegrates when the conditions for its arising are absent, but reintegrates when those conditions return. And yet one never steps in the same river twice.

Form, the body and its elements, disintegrates in every moment. While not apparent to us on such an immediate timescale, this becomes especially clear as we age, grow sick, and die. The form aggregate's constituent parts decay, disintegrate, decompose. Those atoms inevitably find their way into the soil, water, or air consumed by other beings, whether plants or animals, and reintegrate in other shapes and configurations. The same applies to each of the other aggregates, although form is most visible in its transformations.


That all goes to say that the process of disintegrating and reintegrating is, for us, inevitable. We drift like foam through this world. Coming to terms with our own impermanent and insubstantial nature may provoke resistance and discomfort, but to see form as foam also offers us the opportunity to release it when the time comes for it to disintegrate. It never was "me" or "mine" to begin with and when it reintegrates elsewhere it will likewise be ownerless.

This in no way absolves me of responsibility in the present, but it dissolves the tendency to cling desperately to foam that cannot be grasped. In dissolving this clinging, we stand a successful chance at resolving existential dread of what lies ahead. To be continued.

A Zero Sum Game - Two Truths, Emptiness, and the Middle Way

The Two Truths

Within the Buddhist contemplative traditions, numbered lists of items abound. One may indeed find oneself wading through a sea of numbers: four of this, eight of these, twelve of those, and so on. Here we focus on a pair, a simple set: the two truths. Understanding this duo may be the key to unlocking an intuitive grasp of the others, or, more aptly, a loosening of the grasping tendency to veer toward the two extremes).

Not to be confused with the "Four Noble Truths," which describe suffering in a diagnostic and prognostic capacity, the "two truths" are even more basic. In being the basis for the rest of the Buddhist contemplative traditions, they are also perhaps the most all-encompassing. Moreover, despite their seemingly opposing natures, they are not mutually exclusive. In fact, the two truths co-operate in every aspect.

What are these two truths and how are they relevant to us? We provide an introduction to emptiness in relation to the two truths in this article, drawing on core teachings from the work of the Indian Buddhist scholar Nāgārjuna, a forerunner of the "Middle Way." In a strange twist, the two truths in actuality return to "zero" (śūnya, शून्य).

The Middle Way

Living in approximately the years 150-250 of the common era, Nāgārjuna was a philosopher-practitioner credited with founding the Madhyamaka school of Indian Buddhism, which no longer exists as an independent entity, but was absorbed by various other traditions (most notably, Tibetan Buddhism) that survive to this day. Importantly, the name of this school literally means "Middle Way," from the Sanskrit madhyama (मध्यम), reflecting its efforts to tread the line between eternalism and annihilationism, substantialism and nihilism, without veering to either extreme.

Understood as extreme positions, these views were rejected by the Buddha as early as those teachings documented in the Pāli Canon. In fact, much of Nāgārjuna's main treatise, the Mūla-Madhyamaka-Kārikā (Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way), traces to an early text of the Pāli Canon, the Kaccānagotta Sutta (SN 12.15) which likewise documents the Buddha taking the "middle way" with reference to the extreme views of "existence" and "non-existence" in metaphysical terms.



Rather than concern himself with abstract metaphysics (literally, that which is beyond nature) the Buddha grounded his teachings in addressing the sources and solutions to suffering. While some may say the Buddha taught a sort of alternative metaphysics which could even be said to be existential, it was directly concerned with experienced reality and intended to be put into practice, not to remain in the form of abstract principles intended for mere speculation.

Recognizing that metaphysical positions were binding, not liberating, the Buddha set them aside. In the Kaccānagotta Sutta (SN 12.15), he states, "Avoiding these two extremes, the Tathāgata teaches the Dhamma via the middle" which begins his teaching on the twelve links of dependent origination, concluding with, "Such is the origination of this entire mass of stress & suffering" (Trans. Thanissaro Bhikkhu). The "middle" here is the source and inspiration for Nāgārjuna's development of the Madhyamaka or "Middle Way" school.

The Two Extremes - Re-Balancing the Lop-Sided

Framed in new terms, the "Middle Way" may be envisioned as an effort at re-balancing a system that otherwise has grown lop-sided. Explaining the situation in reference to the extremes of existence and non-existence, substantialism and nihilism, eternalism and annihilationism, we offer a brief illustration.

The former of each pair (existence, substantilism, eternalism) all lend themselves to the belief in an enduring, unchanging reality. The latter of each pair (non-existence, nihilism, annihilationism) all lend themselves to belief in an utter obliteration of reality as we know it. These are the extreme views the Buddha considered tangential to the contemplative path.

Instead of indulging people's proclivities to debate these positions, the Buddha simply offered a means to restore balance. Nāgārjuna does the same, echoing the Buddha's teachings. In the Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way, he reflects:

astīti śāśvatagrāho nāstīty ucchedadarśanam |
tasmād astitvanāstitve nāśrīyeta vicakṣaṇaḥ ||15.10||



"It is" is grasping at eternity, "it is not" is an annihilationist view.
Therefore, the wise have recourse to neither "it is" nor "it is not."

In this verse, both metaphysical assertion and negation are set aside. The question is not "to be or not to be," but how to transcend the dichotomy all together. Whenever we find ourselves veering to either of these extremes, we've grown lop-sided in our understanding of our own experience. For instance, a scenario might unfold in one of two ways: success or failure. Believing that a moment of success and the happiness it brings with it will or should last indefinitely is one extreme. Believing a moment of failure and the sadness it invites is the ultimate end of us is another extreme. Both are mistaken.

Either case can in turn lend itself to further branches of extreme views, like extremities branching away from a tree. We may think success or failure reflects on our character in some substantial or enduring way, identifying with the experience in either positive or negative terms. Whatever kind of identification we indulge, whether positive or negative, it takes the form of the extreme of existence, substantalism, or eternalism, as we've taken something in our experience to be substantially "me" in an enduring way. Likewise, if we believe there is no point in any of our actions, regardless of whether they lead to success or failure, and that they will leave no imprint on the world whatsoever, then that takes the form of the extreme of non-existence, nihilism, and annihilationism, which deny causality and continuity. Again, both are mistaken.

Both of the two extremes are lop-sided perspectives, distorting our understanding of our own experience. Both are to be overcome.

Emptiness - A Zero Sum Game

How does one correct for lop-sidedness? By returning to center. Such a return qualifies as a zero sum game of sorts.

What do we mean by zero sum game? We suggest that understanding emptiness, as defined by the Buddha and picked up by Nāgārjuna, effectively collapses the two extremes into zero. Indeed, the Sanskrit term for emptiness, śūnyatā, may also denote zero-ness, wherein śūnya, from the root śvi, stands numerically for zero.

In a zero sum game, two sides cancel out, their sums amounting to zero. No more, no less. As a depiction of the character of a market economy, for instance, a zero sum game represents the pervasive trend that the gain of one portion of society necessitates the loss of another. Where there are winners, there must be losers. Where there is wealth, there must be poverty. Haves and have-nots, and so on. Such trends correspond roughly to the two extremes. Emptiness, we suggest, is a positive twist on the zero sum game, a twist wherein there are no winners or losers, neither rich nor poor. This is made possible via the deconstruction of all such constructs whatsoever, namely through a thorough understanding of emptiness. Nāgārjuna uses the "zero sum" aspect of śūnyatā and the two truths to put an end to all games. But what does emptiness mean in practical terms?

There are two verses penned by Nāgārjuna that strike directly at the heart of the two truths and emptiness. We provide the original Sanskrit below along with our translations.

dve satye samupāśritya buddhānāṃ dharmadeśanā |
lokasaṃvṛtisatyaṃ ca satyaṃ ca paramārthataḥ ||24.8||

Two truths are the basis for the Buddhas' teaching the Dharma:
Worldly conventional truth and the ultimate.

yaḥ pratītyasamutpādaḥ śūnyatāṃ tāṃ pracakṣmahe |
sā prajñaptir upādāya pratipat saiva madhyamā ||24.18||

Whatever is dependently originated, that we declare to be emptiness.
That, being a dependent designation, is the middle way.

Here, we find in the latter verse a simple definition of emptiness. Emptiness refers to that which is dependently originated. While this often refers specifically to the twelve links of dependent origination, beginning with ignorance and culminating in suffering, it may also be applied broadly. Rich are not independent of poor, and vice versa. Winners are not independent of losers, and so on. All such constructs rely on other constructs to make sense and receive meaning in relation to other constructs. In being constructs, they are, after all, constructed from other elements. All that is constructed, or dependently originated, arises through causes and conditions and can just as easily subside through alterations to those causes and conditions. In realizing their emptiness, their insubstantiality, their dependently constructed nature, we can dismantle them.

In the former verse, we are reminded of the two truths. While emptiness or dependently originated insubstantiality may prevail as the underlying nature of phenomena, one may still acknowledge their conventional or worldly functioning. One can't simply scream on the streets, "there is no such thing as the rich or the poor - they're both empty!" without raising eyebrows. Rich and poor operate on the conventional or worldly level as convenient designators for dependently originated phenomena, which are empty at the end of the day. The conventional and the ultimate coexist, side by side, as two means of understanding the same set of phenomena. By skillfully utilizing conventional constructs while at the same time understanding their "ultimate" emptiness (which itself is empty as well), one actualizes the middle way.

Extracting the Marrow

Extracting the marrow or meaning from emptiness is not the first thing that springs to mind upon hearing the term. Indeed, given the connotations of the term emptiness, meaning may be the last on the list of associations, with emptiness instead implying meaninglessness. Yet as we discussed in our introductory post on emptiness in early Buddhism, emptiness is not a meaningless negative, but a meaningful negation. A negation of what? A metaphysically substantial separate self.

Emptiness thereby allows for an understanding of the selfless nature of experience. By implication, it enables an understanding of interdependence. Given that nothing exists in and of itself as a totally independent, separate, isolated entity, but only in a constellation of interacting and intersecting dependently originated processes, a greater sense of connection emerges from an understanding of emptiness. Meanwhile, by understanding the two truths, we veer to neither of the two extremes. In this way, we walk the middle way.

Eventually, we will return to this subject and build upon these reflections. We would love to hear from you in the meantime. Please leave us a comment below on anything you found striking, or reflections that were stirred in the course of venturing into this subject with us. Many thanks and best wishes.

To the Root of a Tree - A Practice in Contemplative Ecology

To the Root of a Tree

"There is the case where a monk, having gone into the wilderness, to the root of a tree, or into an empty dwelling, considers this: 'This is empty of self or of anything pertaining to self.' This is called the emptiness awareness-release."

Mahāsuññata Sutta (MN 122), trans. Thanissaro Bhikkhu

"To the root of a tree" captures a key practice of Buddhist contemplatives and many others throughout the diverse traditions spanning the globe.

Such roots were not merely a physical footnote referenced only to describe a place, but were instead a core element of a psychological undertaking, a contemplative practice reconnecting humanity to nature. Rather than merely providing a seat by raising the hip bones above the knees like modern meditation cushions are intended to accomplish, such roots psychosomatically grounded meditators in the natural world.

It is this sort of grounding, both literal and metaphorical, that we pick up as a theme in this article. Here we probe the roots of trees as a means of re-rooting ourselves in the environment that sustains us and that we, in turn, are called to sustain.

Contemplative Ecology

Before we look into this practice, let us first revisit the notion of contemplative ecology. Various definitions exist of this term, but rather than pursue the technicalities of its meaning and thereby merely scratch the surface, we instead dig into its embodied implications.

Contemplative ecology is a movement, a return to a way of relating to nature that has been mostly lost to many of us in the modern world, detached as we are from the environment at large. Contemplative ecology is a conscientious approach, an intimately aware means of tuning in to the natural world and understanding ourselves as inextricably interwoven in its fabric.

Rather than inhabiting a privileged position at the top of some hierarchy, with domesticated animals below us, wild animals below them, birds and reptiles and fish further down, insects and plants even lower, followed by rocks and the like... instead, the contemplative ecologist, or ecological contemplative, understands that all such beings are equally part of a web held together by mutuality. When even a single member privileges itself above others, in essence it cuts its ties from the rest.

Practices in Contemplative Ecology

Within contemplative ecology, a key practice is simply to bring one's practice into nature. This requires no fancy equipment (although in mosquito-dense climates such as the humid tropics of Asia, one will often see meditators inside a transparent tent-like structure serving as a mosquito net), no special skills or advanced meditative prowess, no forking out hundreds of dollars for a fancy, upscale retreat. All one is asked to do is immerse oneself in one's natural surroundings. A park or forest, alongside a lake or river, or even a nearby garden is all it takes.

Whatever form one's practice takes, whether sitting quietly for a few minutes, softly reciting affirmations, a contemplative prayer, or a mantra, or simply walking mindfully, doing so in the midst of a natural setting can feel quite different than if one were to undertake the same practice inside a building or other enclosed space.

Recall that in the opening quote, the Buddha describes a contemplative going into the wilderness, to the root of a tree, for meditation. While an empty dwelling is included alongside such a description as a valid alternative, it is no substitute capable of replacing nature. Much of the Buddha's meditation practice, as well as that of other contemplatives, took place in nature, not inside a building. Only later in his contemplative career were monasteries donated to the monastics, their construction commissioned by kings. These structures certainly came in handy and were put to good use, especially during the long monsoon season characterized by torrential downpours for days, weeks, months on end, but the Buddha and other contemplatives returned to nature whenever possible for meditation.



What does it mean to return to the root of a tree?

Such an invitation occurs on several occasions throughout the early discourses. In other words, we find the Buddha consistently admonishing contemplatives to undertake this sort of ecological practice. Recall the passage, "There is the case where a monk, having gone into the wilderness, to the root of a tree, or into an empty dwelling, considers this: 'This is empty of self or of anything pertaining to self.' This is called the emptiness awareness-release."

Here, we find the theme of emptiness resurfacing.

From Ego to Eco

While this practice can be undertaken in any setting, meditating upon "emptiness" while in nature has a particularly transformative effect. When one realizes all phenomena to be "empty of self or of anything pertaining to self," one loosens one's grasp of the ego. Such grasping, which so often characterizes our approach to work, relationships, and school (e.g., "I have to impress others to get them to approve of me," "I have to prove myself to get this promotion," "I have to say something to get others to like me," or other thoughts orbiting around "me" and "my" reputation) makes us feel tight and full of stress. By seeing through these ego-centric tendencies, one is able to set them aside. A profound relaxation occurs, not only mentally, but one that can be felt throughout the entire body.

Particularly when undertaken in natural settings, such dissolving of the sense of ego through meditating on emptiness lends itself to deeper connection with the environment, which is no longer perceived as separate, distant, or other. One becomes less ego-centric, more eco-centric, moving from ego to eco through an expanded awareness, "emptiness awareness-release."



The Buddha was born under the protection of a tree, who is said to have lowered its branches to help his mother during the birthing process. The Buddha was enlightened at the root of a tree, having found the middle way after seeing through the extremes of self-indulgence and self-mortification. The Buddha passed away in a forest grove surrounded by trees, completely extinguishing all suffering, in like manner as water that extinguishes flames in a forest.

May all beings be relieved of the fires that burn within. May the natural world be relieved of the fires that burn without.

To be continued.

Intro to Emptiness - Entering the Void

Entering the Void

Before we continue our investigation of contemplative antidotes to community ills, we would like to take a brief foray into the void.



By entering the void, we don't mean absolute oblivion or total annihilation, but a complete transformation of all one previously knew that will nonetheless prove to be revolutionary.

As will become clear in future posts, this foray serves as essential foundation for discussions of inter-relationality (including interconnection, intersubjectivity, interdependence, etc.). Such themes are central to radical inner revolution via contemplative practice and its translation into on-the-ground solutions to social and environmental challenges.

Emptiness

The terms "empty" and "emptiness" find themselves used frequently in reference to the Buddha's teachings, especially by later schools (i.e., Madhyamaka, as expressed in the work of Nāgārjuna), but can be traced back to even the earliest discourses. We provide a preliminary probing of these early traces here.

The early sources demonstrate that emptiness, unlike what its name implies, has no affective tone. It is not to be conflated with nothingness, not a sad or depressing state of affairs as might be assumed upon initial reading of the term, with all its connotations in the English language. Emptiness is not an absolute negative, but a negation.

A negation of what? Of inherent existence or self-nature (svabhāva). While this precise meaning doesn't yet emerge until the Paṭisambhidāmagga (e.g., "sabhāvena suññā"), a congruent meaning is conveyed in even earlier sources. Generally speaking, inherent existence or self-nature signifies that which supposedly bestows individuality unto any given phenomenon while itself remaining an unconditioned essence.

Importantly, for something to be "empty," it must be "empty of" something else, like an empty cup, which while lacking water, still, by some interpretations, contains air.

The World Is Empty

In the early Buddhist context, the term "empty" (suñña) is first used in reference to "the world" (loka) that we phenomenally (and phenomenologically) experience. Importantly, the world is deemed empty (suñño loko), which understandably gives rise to perplexity given its seeming absurdity. What does that even mean? Such a statement is a challenge even for contemplatives to wrap their heads around. For instance, see Ananda's question in the Suñña Sutta:

Ven. Ananda went to the Blessed One and on arrival, having bowed down to him, sat to one side. As he was sitting there he said to the Blessed One, "It is said that the world is empty, the world is empty, lord. In what respect is it said that the world is empty?" (SN 35.85, trans. Thanissaro Bhikkhu)

As the Buddha's chief disciple, perhaps Ananda is asking on behalf of all of us. If the world is empty, wouldn't there be nothing? An empty world seems to imply non-existence. In that case, how would we explain the experiences we're all (presumably) having with regard to what appears to be an existing world? The reason these questions seem absurd is because we haven't yet understood what is meant by "the world."



Elsewhere, the Loka Sutta (SN 12.44) clarifies that "the world" arises dependent on the interaction between sense organs, sense objects, and sense consciousnesses (including mind, mental objects, and mind-consciousness), a form of contact that sets the dominoes in motion for the arising of feeling-tone, craving, clinging, becoming, birth, aging, sickness, death, and the entire mass of dissatisfaction.

In like manner, the Loka Sutta (SN 12.44) explains that "the world" subsides dependent on the remainderless cessation and fading away of craving. Sense experience remains, contact remains, feeling-tone remains. We are not cut off from "the world," but rather, we no longer give rise to subsequent links in the chain, which fundamentally changes the nature of the world we inhabit.



Given its relevance to revolutionary change, we will pick up on this subject in a forthcoming post. We turn now to the Buddha's response to Ananda's inquiry regarding the meaning of "the world is empty."

Empty of what?

Empty of Self

Despite what it sounds like, "emptiness" isn't some ominous, looming, metaphysical abstract. It isn't an other-worldly force hovering in space, waiting to consume us all in a wormhole-like vacuum. Neither the world nor our heads/brains/minds have to explode here.

However, both the world and our minds will be fundamentally transformed.

In the early Buddhist context, "emptiness" means to be empty of self or that which pertains to self (suññaṃ attena vā attaniyena vā). The Buddha's answer in the Suñña Sutta makes this exact point:

"Insofar as it is empty of a self or of anything pertaining to a self: Thus it is said, Ananda, that the world is empty." (SN 35.85, trans. Thanissaro Bhikkhu)

Now that we have a basic understanding of the terms "empty" and "world," we encounter two new terms, "self" and "anything pertaining to a self." Additional variables enter the scene. The equation branches.

These branches reveal the personal relevance of the question.

Even if we've established that the world is that which is generated by sensory experience, while emptiness is to be empty of self, we now have to define self. What is "self"?

Who Am I?

Simply stated, "self" refers to whatever one may identify as "me" - including but not limited to whatever tends to follow "I am" in any sentiment, reflection, or statement. Ask yourself: Who am I? Whatever comes up inevitably falls under one of five categorical "heaps," often referred to as "aggregates" (Sanskrit: skandha; Pāli: khandha). What are these five?

1. form (Sanskrit, Pāli: rūpa)

2. feeling/sensation (Sanskrit, Pāli: vedanā)

3. perception/discrimination (Sanskrit: saṃjñā; Pāli: saññā)

4. cognition/formations/fabrications (Sanskrit: saṃskāra; Pāli: saṅkhāra)

5. consciousness (Sanskrit: vijñāna; Pāli: viññāṇa)

Each of these requires its own post and unpacking, but we'll leave it at this for now: any time I ask "Who am I?" and proceed to identify something as "me," it is either one or some combination of the above.

Compounded Phenomena: Characteristics, Categories, Constructs

Generally speaking, we may think of ourselves as our bodies, our experiences, our minds. We may feel that who we are maps onto characteristics such as compassionate or cruel, bright or dull (etc.) and categories such as mother, father, sister, brother, daughter, son, teacher, student (etc.)...

Yet each of these compounded phenomena are, in actuality, empty of self or what pertains to self. Conventionally speaking, there are form, feeling, perception, cognition, consciousness, there are identities such as compassionate, bright, sister, daughter, student, but none of them are "me" in any final or lasting way.

Likewise, "pertaining to a self" extends to "my" and "mine." Briefly, this may include "my job," "my reputation," "my family," "my car," and so on. We often tend to identify with these constructs as well.

Yet each of these constructs are, in actuality, empty of self or what pertains to self. Conventionally speaking, there are jobs, reputations, families, cars, etc., but none of them are "mine" in any final or lasting way.

These subjects will be addressed in greater detail soon enough, particularly through the simile of the chariot, which we will invoke in a later discussion of a treatise purported to document the intersection between Greek and Buddhist thought, the Milinda Pañha. With that said, it may be wise to end this brief intro with some reasons for why emptiness is even relevant.

Pedagogical Ponderings

Importantly, emptiness is a teaching technique, a skillful means, a pedagogical strategy.

It is a statement of both non-eternality and non-annihilation. Things neither sustain themselves forever, nor are they ever utterly destroyed. This is considered the middle way.

Emptiness is a teaching that all things are without a substance of their own and instead exist only conventionally, impermanently, and conditionally on account of manifold interacting causes and conditions. Its intention is to shake us loose from the solidity we assume in "things," an assumed solidity to which we typically cling so tightly. Its purpose is to unbind and unshackle.

Phenomena arise and subside on the basis of factors outside of them, which arise and subside on the basis of factors outside of them, which arise and subside on the basis of factors outside of them, ad infinitum. Everything is in constant, churning flux, but this does not suggest meaninglessness. In fact, perhaps the inverse is implied. Everything is interrelated.

Interrelated how? Leave us a comment if you'd like to contribute to the discussion and stay tuned for further meanderings.