A Supra-Mundane Science
Dr. Albert Einstein is attributed to have said that if he were ever interested in getting involved with religion, he would become a Buddhist. Buddhism, he said, is the religion that is the closest to science. He talked about a “cosmic” religion which he felt Buddhism was closer to.
Certainly, most people think of Buddhism as a religion. But what is a religion? Religion is defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary as follows:
Belief in a god or a group of gods;
An organized system of beliefs, ceremonies, and rules used to worship a god or a group of gods
So, is Buddhism a religion? Many sects of Buddhism seem to treat it as such, and certainly, most people consider it one. But the Buddha left out the whole concept of God, and what the Buddha taught is certainly beyond any religious belief system.
Then is it science? Perhaps, but it may even be beyond science — at least the existing level of today’s knowledge.
Because the Buddha’s concern was with the cause and the cessation of suffering, much of what he taught focused on the development of mind through deep meditative practices.
There is a growing tendency currently in the scientific community to explain everything about mind in terms of neuroscience and the study of the brain. In fact, much of neuroscience sees mind as just a product of the functioning brain. But this is a limited understanding of mind.
So, in one corner, you have practitioners of meditation wanting to find happiness with religious leaders’ teachings and meditation, and in the other corner, you have Western scientists wanting to find happiness through the study of the physical brain. There seems to be the goal — maybe hope is a better word — that by understanding the brain we can somehow develop a therapy or pill to attain happiness.
Studying the neural system will give us an idea of how neurons work and what they look like on an MRI and other medical measurement equipment. It may also show us what parts of the brain are used for certain mental functions. But, it will never explain the insights that are experienced by mind. For our purposes, it does not give insights into the true nature of suffering and how, through seeing these insights, Nibbāna can be attained.
There is no way, at least that we know of now, to duplicate the process of awakening in the lab by any physical process (drugs, machines, etc.) To achieve awakening, we must understand, at a very deep level, how body and mind working together is an impersonal process without any self or soul.
The brain is not mind, and mind is not the brain — the brain is just part of the body like an arm or a finger. Mind (brain) is something that sits in dependence upon the physical body. However, mind is something we cannot directly measure and can only indirectly understand. Why? Because we are dependent on the reported experience of the individual for this information. When studying another person to find out their actual cognition of something, we only have what they tell us. We cannot measure, for example, their understanding of reality.
So, since science is defined by Merriam Webster’s dictionary as “systematized knowledge derived from observation, study, and experimentation carried on in order to determine the nature or principles of what is being studied,” then saying that Buddhism leans more toward science than belief is close, but still not quite right.
The Buddha did leave us a clear set of methods and instructions that have come down to us from the suttas which allow us to go deeply into our mind and observe things firsthand.
Whenever the Buddha taught the way to the cessation of suffering, he always told his followers that they did not have to believe what he said, but that they should “come and see” for themselves, as he suggested in the Kalama Sutta. Do not take up his teachings with only faith; try it first, and then dismiss it if it has no measurable benefit. No belief or faith was asked for by the Buddha.
These instructions still apply: Try the practice as the Buddha taught it. You decide for yourself if the results you are having are the same as those that are described and if they are beneficial to you. When you see that they work and produce repeatable results, this develops confidence and encourages you to continue on the path.
If we only study the brain, we cannot purport to be studying mind, as mind is only truly knowable by the individual being studied. The researcher must ask the subject what happened. They can never know how understanding and wisdom have internally affected the subject's mind. This is something beyond simple science.
When we say that the Buddha’s teachings go beyond science (i.e., that it is supra-mundane), we are talking about both the actual methods that the Buddha taught and the results (insights) achieved with the practice. While both the methods and the results are repeatable and measurable, they are also subjective experiences. They are transformative and profound but not easily measured by outside researchers.
The Buddha was not just trying to understand “the nature and principles of what is being studied.” He was searching for a way to finally end personal suffering — not just obtain “understanding” of it.
Buddhism is beyond any scientific study because only by observing mind directly with one’s own consciousness can we understand mind. Once the understanding is achieved then that mind being observed is transformed.
In India, it is called a “subjective” science. I call it supra-mundane science. This is why we needed a Buddha to show us the path. The answer was not a simple “this or that.” It was a subtle recipe, a complex training, to which he gave the name “The Middle Path” — between all extremes.
Awakening Both Mind and Body
Traditionally, Indian Masters believed that enlightenment could be achieved by controlling desire, as desire was believed to be the cause of all kinds of suffering.
Practicing initially within this tradition, the Buddha mastered the mind-based practices of yogic, one-pointed absorption concentration. Following that, he spent some long years mastering the body-based austere, ascetic practices of the yogic sadhus. Both efforts were intended to bring desire under control and thereby bring about awakening.
On the one hand, the Brahminic meditation masters believed that they could control desire by controlling mind. By forcing the attention to stay on an object for longer and longer periods of time, it was thought that craving, or desire, could be controlled. But it wasn’t that craving would be overcome — it was that there would arise this all-powerful controller of that craving which, by improving self-discipline and self-control, would be able to exert mastery over desire — holding it down and keep it from coming up; pushing it down versus eliminating it.
But then we’d have to ask the question, who is our “real self” here? The controlling one — the mind that wished to control desire — or the one with the desire, or neither? For there even to be a self, there must be something that is considered not the self (or at least not our real self).
In the Brahmajāla Sutta, No. 1 of the Digha Nikāya, the Buddha describes there are 62 views of self! There is self watching self, “not-self” observing self, the self observing a not-self and on and on. There is only one “you” but which one is it?
If an alcoholic says, they will give up drinking by exercising their willpower, then who is the real self? Which desire is the real you? It seems like a fight for control is going to break out soon!
On the other hand, if controlling desires with mental self-control and discipline didn’t work then ascetics thought that they could control desire by controlling the body. Yogis would stand on one leg for extended periods or eat a very restricted diet, believing that by controlling the body in this way, enlightenment would surely come. Mind would experience a breakthrough when the control of the body was mastered — again, self-discipline would enable someone to take charge and bring desire under control.
This, “someone,” was conceived as the “Higher Self” or the “I” who would finally have total control such that one would no longer be subject to desire and its suffering. This was the perceived goal of the meditation practice
. It wasn’t about eliminating desire but actually controlling desire!
After practicing both approaches extensively, the future Buddha or Bodhisatta had not achieved awakening. When he entered deep states of absorption concentration, he found that these states suppressed his sense bases so that he no longer felt, heard, or experienced anything from the body. The mental states he achieved were blissful and sublime. However, he soon realized that tightly controlling mind did suppress desire, but only while he was practicing. This was temporary. It did not eradicate the craving mind entirely. As soon as he stopped practicing, desire returned in full force.
Similarly, after six years of ascetic practices, when he was about to die from hunger near Bodh Gaya, he understood that excessive controlling of the body through deprivation would only lead to death through starvation. It would not, however, lead to the elimination of desire. The cessation of suffering would never be achieved with these practices.
When he had all but given up practicing concentration meditation and ascetic techniques to their absolute limit, he realized that control was not the answer. It was a futile practice, that didn’t lead to awakening, using “craving” to control craving. At that point, he sat down under the Bodhi Tree and determined that he would sit there until he found the answer.
On a full moon day in May, he became the Tathāgata, the Buddha, the Awakened One (in the third watch of the night, between 3 and 7 a.m. ). He had found the Middle Way. He had come to understand the need to employ a meditation method that used a totally different approach — a method that would include both mind and body and eliminated the controller.
The Buddha had previously developed the seeing and understanding of how his mind worked by careful observation. He began to see that the mental processes are a dependent chain of events arising and passing away. We now know this as seeing the links of dependent origination. The Buddha used the term paṭicca samuppāda, which is Pāli for dependent origination.
On the morning of his awakening, he realized that seeing clearly, the deepest phenomena in mind, is without a doubt, the way to Nibbāna. By seeing how his own mind worked and closely observing the mental processes, he grew to understand that we all cause our own suffering!
He saw how desire works, how it leads to suffering, and how the cessation of suffering can be achieved. The Buddha realized that desires arise because we feed them and continually chase after them. We see them as ours and personally identify with them.
In other words, if you are sitting quietly and your mind goes to thinking about how nice it would be to be somewhere else, can you stop it? Can you just say, “that’s ok mind, I’d like to sit quietly and enjoy some peace this afternoon.” No — here come the desires for this and that unasked, uncalled for. In that sense, it is not “our” desire.
Because we personally identify with these desires that we experience, thinking of them as “mine,” and then become attached to them, this craving inevitably leads to suffering. We have no control over how or when they arise, or how or when they pass away. Craving and suffering occur because we identify with and personalize these desires and then cling to them.
Dependent origination is the understanding that all things in both body and mind are conditioned. They are conditioned or caused by what came before, and they inevitably lead to what happens next. By seeing this chain of events clearly, we see that everything is impersonal. So, where are “we” in this process? Where am “I?”
An important part of understanding dependent origination is that this thing we call “self” or “ego” is actually not a self or ego at all, but an impersonal process that happens completely beyond our control. In fact, there is no possibility of control because there is no continuous or permanent “self” capable of being the controller. The Buddha saw that there are only processes arising and passing away with no permanent self involved.
Who controls anything? Who makes the decisions? Even “decision” itself is another conditioned mental process which arises based on previous actions. Decisions aren’t made by some permanent self who has control of what’s happening; they are “the impersonal you” at that moment. Our only possible input is to recognize the reality of this situation and not to take it personally, not to be “attached” to the outcome of any given situation. This is the practice of “Right Effort” (we call it the 6Rs and will discuss this later). This was a unique and profound truth that the Buddha discovered and presented to the thinkers of his time.
Once the Buddha fully and deeply realized what he had discovered, he found that craving and suffering ceased. And today researchers have found that there are, indeed, measurable changes in both the mind and bodies of meditators as various types of meditation techniques are practiced. There are measurable positive results.
The Buddha realized that he could not break through to awakening by controlling either mind or body independently. You can’t turn off input from the body by suppressing the sense bases in some sort of deep concentration. On the other hand, you can’t torture the body and expect this to lead to some sort of control of mind (by controlling pain).
The Buddha understood that mind and body worked together, but first, he tried controlling each one separately, as far as he could muster his energy and determination.
It didn’t work. The result was that he gave up trying to control mind and body to look for another way to solve this dilemma.
Hundreds of years later there came commentaries and opinions about the Buddha’s teachings, like the Vissudhi Magga, which started to split up practices, fundamentally discriminating insight and concentration (vipassanā and samatha) into different techniques, whereas the original suttas had called for them to be “yoked together.”
The Vissudhi Magga was written in 430 C. E., over 900 years after the Buddha lived. It is a large volume written by Buddhaghosa that attempts to lay out (mostly) the chief meditative practices that the Buddha taught. It is especially considered a very important document for the Theravada Buddhist sect. Since it is not the words of the Buddha, it is considered a commentary on his practices. In the Vissduhi Magga, there are many methods involved in developing concentration. Some use Kasinās or colored discs. Many use the breath to create a nimitta or sign on which to concentrate. We will describe the origins of the book later and how it fits with meditation practice.
Then came “Dry Insight Practice,” which avoided deep concentration entirely. Those teachers even told their practitioners to stay away from concentrated absorption practices because they might get “attached.” This Dry Insight method developed only enough concentration to start investigating the mental process, without the benefit of the stronger type of concentration. Teachers of such an approach said it was faster and more direct. The question here is, did the Buddha teach this?
Here is the critical understanding of what the Buddha taught: In the suttas, he says that concentration (samatha) is yoked together with insight (vipassanā). Samatha and vipassanā, therefore, must be practiced together.
This is what is actually taught in the suttas, and this is what Bhante Vimalaraṁsi rediscovered hiding there in plain sight — he has named this Tranquil Wisdom Insight Meditation or Aware Jhāna Practice.
Before we get into meditation practice, let us look at how mind works by examining what the Buddha considered the most important concept to learn.
Dependent Origination — Leaving Control Behind
After years of practice in the Brahminic tradition, on the night of his awakening, the Buddha realized why he had not found relief. The fundamental premise of those practices was incorrect. That idea assumed that one could actually control desire and thereby control suffering. On the night of his awakening, the Buddha directly realized what he had already reasoned out about his own mental processes. He understood that everything has craving in it and arises because of actions that took place in the past. Because those actions have already happened, no one has any control over what will emerge or how they will react to it. In other words, yo
u cannot, in fact, control what desire arises but can only observe the impersonal arising of it.
What is dependent origination and how does it work? When one sits and quiets mind, all becomes still. The next thing that might happen is a sound arising. A bird may chirp. The sound form (the chirp) hits the ear base (the organ, physical ear), and ear-consciousness arises. These three things — sound, the ear base, and ear-consciousness — are the contact link in the twelve links of dependent origination. Contact (phassa) is all three elements coming together so that “hearing” happens.
In the same way, lighting a match, you have the match head, the flammable chemicals and the flint of the matchbox. When they are struck together, this is called contact. Heat and light arise, resulting in a flame. If any one of these three things is missing, “hearing” doesn’t happen.
Once hearing happens, there arises a feeling (vedanā) associated with that sound; then perception arises that it is pleasant, unpleasant, or neither pleasant nor unpleasant (neutral). Feeling and perception are followed by craving (taṇhā) arising with the formula: "I like it” or "I don't like it” or “I don’t care.” This is where you start to identify with what is happening and take it personally.
Craving can always be recognized as tension and tightness in the head. The tension or tightness is how you recognize craving. You must see and let go of this craving in the head; that desire is what is next going to lead you into thought (clinging) and then leads to the birth of action and resulting in “sorrow, lamentation, grief, and despair.”
Following craving, clinging (upādāna) — or thinking — arises, the story about why you like it or don't like it. This is based on your past experience — what happened when that sound arose at some past time. You remember a time when you were bird-watching and heard a unique type of bird. Thoughts arise, and a story begins about the sound.
The Path to Nibbana Page 2
