http://www.tricycle.com/feature/nirvana-three-takes?page=0,1
Teachers
from three Buddhist traditions offer surprisingly divergent views
on the meaning of nirvana. Where does your path
lead?
By Gil
Fronsdal, Tulku Thubten Rinpoche, and Roko Sherry Chayat
In the
centuries following the Buddha’s death, dharma teachings spread
from India into the rest of Asia, evolving eventually into the
three yanas, or
vehicles for the teachings—Theravada, Vajrayana, and Mahayana, the
predominant traditions of Southeast Asia, Tibet, and East Asia,
respectively. The doctrinal distinctions that arose have caused
fundamental aspects of what the Buddha taught to be disputed. Even
the teachings on such essential matters as karma, enlightenment,
and rebirth vary in the three yanas, and from school to school
within the yanas—now more so than ever with Western epistemologies
stirred into the doctrinal diaspora.
Tricycle editors—and
likely lots of other dharma students—are frequently asked for the
“Buddhist” take on everything from premarital sex to cloning to
cosmetic surgery. The problem is, no single answer emerges from all
the branches of Buddhism that have sprouted around the world. A
Soto Zen response to the question “Does heaven exist?” diverges
drastically from a Pure Land view or a Theravada teaching; even
practical questions about how dharma practitioners celebrate the
Buddha’s birthday, get married, or care for the dead elicit
distinct responses pointing to distinct anniversaries, histories,
and rituals, depending on who you ask and where you
look.
In an
effort to point to the profound variance between “Buddhisms” and
teachings,Tricycle takes
a look at three basic views of nirvana, its aspects and attainment,
from a Theravada, Vajrayana, and a Rinzai Zen (Mahayana) teacher.
While Tulku Thubten, a Vajrayana teacher, sees the possibility of
sudden, unexpected, and even repeated enlightenment, Gil Fronsdal,
a Theravada teacher, has described the process of reaching the
“deathless” as akin to desalinating a glass of seawater: the fresh
water is there, but getting out the salt—our delusion—is a task of
dedication, meticulously applied, over time. And in Zen master
Sherry Roko Chayat’s essay, we have enlightenment in “this very
moment, this very place; we are 'all done' just as we are.” The
differences, perhaps, will speak for
themselves. —Mary Talbot
In the
Theravada tradition the definition of nibbana is simple—the end of
suffering.
GIL
FRONSDAL
NIBBANA is
the ultimate good news of Theravada Buddhism: it means complete
liberation. Naturally, people want to know about the nature of
nibbana, but from the Theravada standpoint,
knowing how a
person is transformed in attaining nibbana is more important than
understanding what it
is.
When a
person is thirsty, what’s important about water is not its chemical
properties, but that it quenches thirst. Similarly, for someone who
is suffering, what’s important about nibbana is not so much its
nature but that its attainment extinguishes
suffering. Nirvana (Sanskrit)
and Nibbana (Pali,
the language of the earliest Buddhist texts) literally mean “to go
out”—like a fire—and “to cool.” Applied to the mind, it refers to
extinguishing the fevers of greed, hate, and delusion, the three
roots of suffering. The Buddha’s choice of this term was intimately
tied to the imagery of his famous Fire Sermon. Here he said:
“Everything is on fire; the eyes are on fire; sights are on fire;
visual perception is on fire. . . ; the ears are on fire. . . ; the
nose is on fire. . . ; the tongue is on fire. . . ; the body is on
fire. . . ; the mind is on fire. . . . They are on fire with greed,
hate, and delusion” (from the Mahavaggaof the Theravada
Vinaya).
In the
language of the Buddha, the word for fuel and for clinging is the
same:upadana. The
Buddha understood that suffering arises from and is fueled by
clinging. When the fuel is removed, suffering is extinguished. By
understanding how deep-rooted and subtle clinging is in our own
unliberated minds, we come to appreciate the mind of nibbana as
refreshingly cool and peaceful.
Nibbana
is the end of samsara. Contrary
to a popular misunderstanding, neither nibbana nor samsara is a
place. In attaining nibbana we don’t escape from one location to
another. For the Buddha, samsara is the process by which clinging
gives rise to suffering which, in turn, gives rise to further
clinging. He understood that this self-perpetuating process
continues over lifetimes as the “fuel” for rebirth, just as the
fire from one burning house is carried to a neighboring house by
the wind. Nibbana is what is realized when the clinging of greed,
hate, and delusion is brought to an end. Some later Buddhist
traditions equate nirvana and samsara. However, they likely
attribute very different meanings to these words than those
understood by the earliest Buddhist tradition. In Theravada
teachings, samsara cannot be nibbana any more than a clenched fist
can be an open hand, any more than burning ember in your fist can
be the same as letting it go. For the
Buddha, nibbana had
quite positive associations—after all, it is a simile for ultimate
freedom and awakening. At times he used other similes to describe
this state: “the blissful, the secure, the pure, the island, the
shelter, the harbor, the refuge, the ultimate.”
Other,
more perplexing, synonyms include “the unconstructed, the ageless,
the deathless, the featureless.” These refer to the idea
that nibbana does
not exist as something that can be made, shaped, or willed. It is
not a “ground of being” from which anything subject to death can
arise. Although there is a consciousness, “featureless, infinite,
and luminous all around,” that is associated with nibbana, it is
not dependent on the conditioned world. Nor does it produce the
conditioned world. Rather, it is a dimension of consciousness
totally independent of circumstances in the world or in one’s
personal life. Because nibbana is independent, people who fully
realize it are said to be “unestablished”—in other words, free from
any clinging that would confine their consciousness to any point in
space or time.
Experiencing
nibbana is like taking a dip in a refreshing pond. A quick dip and
we are slightly refreshed. With a long soak we are thoroughly
refreshed. Even the first, brief dip into nibbana is a powerful
lesson in the possibility of a great happiness, freedom, and peace
not dependent on the conditions of the world. As long as someone
believes happiness can only be found through the right conditions,
it makes sense to cling to those conditions—even when knowing full
well that all conditioned phenomena are subject to change. But when
there is a direct, visceral experience of an alternative, the
enchantment that fuels this clinging lessens dramatically. The
function of attaining nibbana is to reduce and finally end all
clinging. In Theravada Buddhism, the desire to walk the path to
nibbana has an honored place. Once that desire is fulfilled, it
naturally subsides and the mind clings to nothing, not even to
nibbana itself.
Walking
the path toward the complete ending of clinging and suffering is
the noblest thing a person can do. It opens the fist of the mind,
and allows a person to walk in the world with gift-bestowing
hands.
Gil
Fronsdal has
practiced Zen and Vipassana since 1975 and has a Ph.D. in Buddhist
Studies from Stanford University. He is the primary teacher for the
Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City,
California.
Nirvana
is awakening to our wise and loving
nature.
TULKU THUBTEN
RINPOCHE
THE
HUMAN MIND has
the tendency to manufacture concepts and beliefs in relationship to
things that are inherently transcendental. This often leads us to
suffer the old curse of “mistaking the finger pointing to the moon
for the moon itself.” The cause of this mistaken perception is the
ego, since the ego’s only occupation is to sustain its flimsy
existence or world of illusion. It always tries its best to create
hindrances to the realization of truth.
Every
thought about nirvana can be credited to the ego’s attempt to
jeopardize one’s entry into nirvana itself. Yet this situation
should not cause us to lose hope of discovering nirvana. Many men
and women have already realized it. One may know about nectar very
well from reading and listening to others’ experiences of tasting
it. This is still simply intellectual understanding. One honestly
doesn’t know how nectar tastes until it is touched by one’s own
tongue. In the same way, you have to directly experience nirvana in
order to know its true flavor. This realization requires the
dropping of everything that one is shamelessly trying to hold onto.
It means a spiritual death—dying to the illusion of self. This is
different from physical death.We come across various terminologies
and symbols created by spiritual traditions to describe this inner
liberation. We even find slightly different ways of understanding
nirvana within Buddhism. The point of view within the Vajrayana is
that it is an awakened state endowed with wisdom and love. It is
ecstatic. It is regarded asmahasukha, which
literally means great bliss. This word alone can immediately create
a misconception of the true state of liberation. It has nothing to
do with ordinary bliss that we experience through our senses, like
taking drugs or having sex. It is not necessarily some titillating
or altered state of mind that inspires you to frolic in the
meadows. Otherwise, hedonism and self-indulgence would be a short
cut to enlightenment, which is not the case. The Vajrayana position
is to counter the dry notion that nirvana is a dead end: the
terminus of every experience from sorrow to bliss. The Vajrayana
doctrine regards this as a pseudo-nirvana, which is nothing more
than a pain-free vegetative state. It defines awakening as a state
that is not only free from sorrow, but also the embodiment of
transcendent love, wisdom, and ecstasy.
All
schools of thought in Buddhism seem to agree that great cessation
is true nirvana. Buddha himself taught that nirvana is the realm of
inner peace in which all gross and subtle turbulence of mind has
subsided. This comes into being by awakening to the sacred nature
of all things. Vajrayana postulates that nirvana is an awakening in
which one sees all things as divine, the universe itself as Buddha
paradise, living beings as deities. Its unique outlook is that
ultimate truth is not justshunyata, or
emptiness, but all-pervading sacredness, which is
called dakpa rabjamin Tibetan. One
of the main features in the Vajrayana practices is to visualize
beings as deities in accordance with traditional iconography as a
means to gaining realization. Such practice may not be found in
other traditions.
Vajrayana
starts from the premise that nirvana cannot only manifest in one
lifetime, but also at any time—mostly when one is not expecting it.
This holds true for both women and men. It’s said that even sinners
can be enlightened in one lifetime without incurring the ultimate
punishment of being born in hell. The Tibetan saint Milarepa
supposedly took the lives of many in his early years through the
use of black magic, and then later embraced the spiritual path and
became one of the most revered masters in Tibetan Buddhism. There
are many people who doubt the existence of nirvana in the first
place. This doubt is the product of not finding many examples of
those who are enlightened or by the experience of encountering
those who are regarded as enlightened by their followers but turn
out to be just a big divine joke.
Of
course, nirvana is not a myth. It’s a possibility for everyone, but
an individual must believe in its existence in order to have any
motivation to be on the path to the everlasting freedom. The
essence of our consciousness is already love and wisdom. Karma,
concepts, and emotional patterns are only temporarily preventing
our consciousness from unfolding its enlightened nature. Nirvana is
nothing more than being awakened to the enlightened nature of our
consciousness. That awakened nature is who we truly are from the
very beginning. In accordance with this reasoning, we are destined
to be enlightened. If not in this lifetime, then definitely at some
point in the distant future.
Tulku
Thubten Rinpoche was
born in Tibet and was trained in the Nyingma tradition as a young
child. He has been teaching in the West since the 1990s and
currently serves as the spiritual advisor for the Dharmata
Foundation.
ROKO
SHERRY CHAYAT explains
that enlightenment is already here.
WHAT IS
ENLIGHTENMENT? What
was it that the young prince of the Shakya clan realized that
caused him to be called Buddha, the awakened one?
To
answer in the usual discursive, conceptual way cannot convey the
truth of this experience, an experience that is not limited to some
past event, does not belong to some great historical figure, but is
ours to discover. Enlightenment is not a thing, not a condition,
not an event, not a goal, not an accomplishment. That which is
without limits cannot be defined. Yet the question is a burning one
for Buddhists. Even though we may be too hip to ask it, deep down,
we want to know what it is that we are practicing. But in truth, we
are practicing enlightenment! It is always and already here! There
is not a hair’s breadth of separation between what we perceive as
our separate, burdensome selves and Buddha-nature. But until this
truth has been experienced, a little voice is always asking, “Why?”
“What for?” “How come?” We want an answer, we want access to
someone else’s understanding, we want some reassurance that what we
are doing makes sense. And a good teacher’s response is guaranteed
to pull the rug out from under us, to frustrate our acquisitive
seeking after the attainment of something outside. Someone asked
the great T’ang dynasty teacher Unmon Bunen, “What is Buddha?”
Unmon answered, “Shit-wiping stick.” A more modern answer was given
by my dharma grandfather, Soen Nakagawa Roshi: “A piece of toilet
paper.” This may seem blasphemous: How can one compare Buddha to
something that is used to wipe away shit? Indeed, if we think
Buddha-nature is that which is sacred, as opposed to everything
else that is profane, then of course it sounds blasphemous. But
from the vista of realization, what’s blasphemous is making this
separation between sacred and profane. This is the same dualistic
mindset that creates the fiction of a separate self and condemns us
to suffering.
In
the Mahaparinirvana
Sutra, Shakyamuni Buddha teaches,
“All living beings are Buddha-nature,” or, as Zen master Dogen
phrased it, “All that there is without anything missing, there-is
[is] the Buddha nature.” Shit-wiping stick, toilet paper, birds
singing, cars passing by, ants crawling on the ground, itchiness
around your ear, sleepiness, everything, all that there
is is nothing
but Buddha-nature. What is lacking?
The Zen
master Rinzai said, “Followers of the Way, it is urgently necessary
for you to attain true insight.” And then he continued, “Just don’t
strive!” Then what about that urgent necessity for attainment? How
do we experience true insight without striving? How do we come to
see that this very moment, this very place, just as it is, has
nothing lacking, nothing superfluous—that we are “all done” just as
we are?
In the
fascicle “The Buddha-nature” in
his Shobogenzo, Dogen
wrote, “The principle of the Buddha-nature is that one’s
Buddha-nature remains incomplete as long as one is not awakened,
and that it is completed only from the moment one is awakened; the
Buddha-nature and awakening can only be simultaneous. You must
deeply penetrate this principle in your practice of concentration.
Twenty or thirty years of grinding effort are
necessary.”
That
doesn’t appeal to us. We don’t like the idea of long years of
grinding effort. Despite what the Buddha says in
the Diamond Sutra—“There is no
formula for supreme enlightenment”—we long for some guidelines,
some diagram, yes, a formula for quick success. We want what our
teachers have, and we want them to give it to us without delay. And
therein lies the problem in at least two of its guises: we think
there is something to have; and we think it’s good to get something
for nothing—when, in fact, this practice of ours requires giving
everything for nothing! One of my favorite sayings of Rinzai’s
teacher, Obaku, is “Those who seek the Way must enter it with the
suddenness of a knife-thrust. Full understanding of this must come
before they can enter.” Every koan requires this from us: entering
with the suddenness of a knife-thrust, giving everything for
nothing, having no preconceived ideas of attainment or
accomplishment, just sitting down and emptying the room so that the
koan can reveal itself in ourselves, through ourselves, as
ourselves. This is effortless effort: difficult, for it flies in
the face of all our conditioning; easy, for it requires nothing but
an utter giving up and entering into this unlimited, unbounded
moment. The more we sit in this dumbfounded way, the more our
heart-minds are purified. What we think is the obstacle is the very
encouragement we need to open, to give unconditionally, to enter
with the swiftness of a knife-thrust into what has never been
hidden. This is koan practice. We empty the room, and the Way is
everywhere apparent.
When
there’s nowhere to turn, nowhere to run, we discover an inner
motivation, a strong determination: “I’m going to sit down and shut
up. I’m sick and tired of this endless round of confusion and fear.
I resolve to enter into the clear, awakened mind of my innate
Buddha-nature, so that true compassion can flower, can bloom in my
very being.”
Motivation
is so important. If we don’t have motivation, of course we’re going
to sit there feeling bored, irritated, and in pain. With
motivation, we can dedicate our lives: “I am here, fully present,
and I vow to wake up fully so that all beings may be released from
suffering.” It’s that simple. Vow, and bow, wholeheartedly, and sit
down. Then, having entered with “the suddenness of a knife-thrust,”
we can drink of the refreshing spring called “the readiness of
time.”
Roko
Sherry Chayat is
the abbot of the Zen Center of Syracuse. She co-edited and
co-translated Endless
Vow: The Zen Path of Soen
Nakagawa and is the editor
of Subtle Sound: The Zen Teachings of
Maurine Stuart.
