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176 pages, Paperback
First published February 3, 2015
His apparent reticence leaves us with the important issue of whether nirvana involves attaining some other dimension of reality that transcends this world, or whether it describes an experience that is immanent in this world—a state of being that might be understood more psychologically, as (for example) the end of greed, ill will, and delusion in our lives right now. Surely nirvana must be one or the other?
Another aspect of cosmological dualism for these traditions is that my individual salvation or personal liberation is independent of yours. As Loyal Rue implies, aspiring to attain a nirvana that transcends this world of samsara may divert us from the ecological and social challenges that confront us right here. Why worry about what’s happening now if our ultimate destiny is elsewhere? But if our fundamental dukkha is due to the delusion of a self that feels separate from the rest of the world, then enlightenment should not be understood as that self attaining some other reality. As we will see, another way to understand awakening is that it involves what Dogen describes as “forgetting” oneself—letting go of the sense of self—and realizing one’s nonduality with the world. This realization naturally galvanizes a sense of responsibility for the world, because then the well-being of “others” can no longer be detached from one’s own.
While a stripped-down, secularized approach—sometimes disparaged as “McMindfulness”—often makes it more palatable to the business world, decontextualizing mindfulness from its original liberative and transformative purpose, including its foundation in social ethics, can lose sight of why it is so important. Rather than mindfulness as a means to awaken individuals and organizations from the “three poisons” that the Buddha identified—the unwholesome roots of greed, ill will, and delusion—it is sometimes refashioned into a technique that can indirectly reinforce those roots. Most scientific and popular accounts circulating in the media portray mindfulness in terms of stress reduction and attention-enhancement, yet mindfulness, as understood and practiced within the Buddhist tradition, is not merely an ethically neutral practice for reducing stress and improving concentration. Rather, it is a distinct quality of attention that depends upon many other factors: the nature of one’s thoughts, speech, and actions; one’s way of making a living; and one’s efforts to avoid unwholesome and unskillful behaviors, while developing those that are conducive to wise action, social harmony, and compassion. For Buddhism the practice of mindfulness is an integral part of the ultimate goal, which involves seeing through the delusion of a separate self and learning to live in a way that is consistent with such a realization...In the business world, mindfulness meditation is often marketed as a method for personal self-fulfillment, a reprieve from the ordeals of corporate life. Although such an individualistic and consumer orientation to the practice may be effective for self-preservation and self-advancement, it is essentially impotent for mitigating the causes of collective and organizational dukkha. After a mindfulness program, individual employees in a company may feel that their stress, unhappiness, and doubts are entirely self-made. Such training promotes a tacit acceptance of the status quo and becomes an instrumental tool for keeping attention focused on institutional goals. When mindfulness practice is compartmentalized in this way, however, there is a disconnection between one’s own personal transformation and the kind of organizational restructuring that might address the causes and conditions of suffering in the broader environment. Such a colonization of mindfulness reorients the practice to the needs of the company, rather than encouraging a critical reflection on the causes of our collective suffering, or social dukkha...Cloaked in an aura of care and humanity, mindfulness can be refashioned into a safety valve, as a way to let off steam—a technique for coping with the anxieties and tensions of corporate life.
Our whole scientific concept of nature as a mechanism was derived from a Cartesian scheme that was logically complete because it included God as inventor. But to maintain that nature is mechanism after repudiating God and purpose constitutes a severe logical flaw at the heart of Western science. Think of a machine, any machine. . . What makes it a machine? In analyzing an organism into its component parts, and then trying to explain its functioning as if it were a machine, we overlook the fact that our conception of a machine presupposes a machine-maker: an intelligence and intentionality distinct from the machine it designs and constructs. That made sense as long as God was understood to have created the universe according to his own plan and purposes. Without God, however, the mechanistic model of explanation breaks down. Any machine that constantly reorganizes itself, creating more complex structures as evolving parts of itself, is not a machine. It is better understood as an organism.
A self-organizing cosmos would shed light on some age-old Buddhist questions. If enlightenment involves realizing that there is no self, who (or what) becomes enlightened? For that matter, if (as Buddhist teachings claim) there has never been a self, then who is it that wants to become enlightened? Can my subjective desire to awaken be understood in a more nondual way as the urge of the universe itself to become self-aware, in me and as me?...Awakening, then, involves realizing that “I” am not inside my body, looking out through my eyes at a world that is separate from me. Rather, “I” am what the whole universe is doing, right here and now.
[T]he highest ideal of the Western tradition has been the concern to restructure our societies so that they become more socially just. The most important goal for Buddhism is to awaken and (to use the Zen phrase) realize one’s true nature, which puts an end to dukkha—especially that associated with the delusion of a separate self. Today it has become more obvious that we need both of these aspirations, not just because these ideals complement each other, but because each project needs the other.
Historically, churches and churchgoers have played an important part in many Western reform movements—for example, in antislavery and civil rights campaigns. Nevertheless, much of the impetus in the West for deep structural change originates from socialism and other leftist movements, which traditionally have been suspicious of religion. Marx viewed religion as “the opiate of the people” because religious institutions have often been complicit with political oppression, using their doctrines to rationalize the authority of exploitative rulers and diverting believers’ attention from their present condition to “the life to come.” As we have noticed, this historical critique applies to some Buddhist institutions as well, yet a main concern of this book has been to demonstrate that at its best Buddhism offers an alternative approach: the path is really about personal transformation, about deconstructing and reconstructing the sense of self, not to qualify for a blissful afterlife but to live in a different way here and now...Without denigrating in any way the importance of such practice, we also need to remember Slavoj Zizek’s criticism that Buddhism can be practiced in ways that reinforce the current social order. Is Western Buddhism being commodified and co-opted into a self-help stress-reduction program that adapts to institutionalized dukkha, leaving practitioners atomized and powerless? Or is modern Buddhism opening up new perspectives and possibilities that challenge us to transform ourselves and our societies, so that they become more socially just and ecologically sustainable? Among those who recognize the importance of social engagement, there is another distinction to be made. My sense is that most Buddhists understand social engagement as serving the underserved, as directly responding to those who need help, such as homeless people, those who are terminally ill, or those incarcerated in prisons. This seems consistent with Buddhist emphasis on letting go of abstractions in favor of immediate experience: attending to the needs of that suffering person on the sidewalk, right here and now, rather than becoming involved in a more abstract and sometimes confrontational movement for social change. Again, without disparaging in any way the importance of helping those who urgently need it, we must also ask: if we share the basic concern of the Buddha to end suffering, don’t we also need to understand and address its social causes? As we pull drowning people out of the river, shouldn’t we consider why there are an increasing number of people floundering in the water? Who or what is pushing them in upstream? Today it’s not enough to help that homeless person in front of us. We also need to consider why, in the wealthiest and most powerful nation in human history, the number of poor people is growing so quickly.