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). |^|