Joseph Goldstein
ONE OF THE MOST
PUZZLING
ASPECTS OF the Buddha's teachings is the idea of no self. If
there's no
self, who gets angry, who falls in love, who makes effort, who has
memories or gets reborn? What does it mean to say there is no
self?
Sometimes people are afraid of this idea, imagining themselves
suddenly
disappearing in a cloud of smoke, like a magician's trick.
We can understand no-self in several ways. The Buddha described
what we
call "self" as a collection of aggregates—elements of mind and
body—that
function interdependently, creating the appearance of woman or
man. We
then identify with that image or appearance, taking it to be "I"
or
"mine," imagining it to have some inherent self-existence. For
example, we
get up in the morning, look in the mirror, recognize the
reflection, and
think, "Yes, that's me again." We then add all kinds of concepts
to this
sense of self: I'm a woman or man, I'm a certain age, I'm a happy
or
unhappy person—the list goes on and on.
When we examine our experience, though, we see that there is not
some core
being to whom experience refers; rather it is simply "empty
phenomena
rolling on." Experience is "empty" in the sense that there is no
one
behind the arising and changing phenomena to whom they happen. A
rainbow
is a good example of this. We go outside after a rainstorm and
feel that
moment of delight if a rainbow appears in the sky. Mostly, we
simply enjoy
the sight without investigating the real nature of what is
happening. But
when we look more deeply, it becomes clear that there is no
"thing" called
"rainbow" apart from the particular conditions of air and moisture
and
light.
Each one of us is like that rainbow—an appearance, a magical
display,
arising out of the various elements of mind and body. So when
anger
arises, or sorrow or love or joy, it is just anger angering,
sorrow
sorrowing, love loving, joy joying. Different feelings arise and
pass,
each simply expressing its own nature. The problem arises when we
identify
with these feelings, or thoughts, or sensations as being self or
as
belonging to "me": "I'm angry, I'm sad." By collapsing into the
identification with these experiences, we contract energetically
into a
prison of self and separation.
As an experiment in awareness, the next time you feel identified
with a
strong emotion or reaction or judgment, leave the story line and
trace the
physical sensation back to the energetic contraction, often felt
at the
heart center. It might be a sensation of tightness or pressure in
the
center of the chest. Then relax the heart, simply allowing the
feelings
and sensations to be there. Open to the space in which everything
is
happening. In that moment, the sense of separation disappears, and
the
union of lovingkindness and emptiness becomes clear. We see that
there is
no one there to be apart. As the Chinese poet Li Po wrote: "We sit
together the mountain and me/ Until only the mountain remains."
Joseph Goldstein is a co-founder of Insight Meditation
Society in
Barre, Massachusetts where he is one of the resident teachers. His
books
include Insight Meditation and Seeking the Heart of
Wisdom: The
Path of Insight Meditation (both from Shambhala Publications).
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