¿Quién es mi yo?: Las enseñanzas originales del Buddha sobre la conciencia

by Ayya Khema

En este exquisito manual de una de las enseñanzas más importantes del Buddha, Ayya Khema nos guía hacia una mayor comprensión de la verdadera naturaleza del «yo». Interpretando el Potthapada-sutta, uno de los textos fundamentales sobre meditación, con ejemplos extraídos de su larga trayectoria, la autora explica la práctica de meditación budista tal vez más efectiva para la transformación personal. En este recorrido, el lector aprenderá sobre el lenguaje, las costumbres y la cultura de la época en la que el Buddha dio este discurso, a la vez que se sorprenderá de la enorme vigencia de su mensaje, tanto a nivel personal como social. La autora señala así el camino marcado por el propio Buddha, un camino que produce en quien lo transita una alegría trascendente y conduce a la liberación del sufrimiento.

Genres: Buddhism, Meditation, Spirituality, Philosophy, Nonfiction, Religion

304 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 9, 1997

Reviews

[Steve Woods · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a commentary on some of the Buddha's teachings. I found it a lot more difficult to get into than her other works. The fault I am sure lies with me. Like so mucj else on the path I am sure it will gather meaning for me as my practice proceeds

Truer words!!! I wrote this brief not several years ago and now after the intervening years of practice I have found this book to be the clearest, most succinct and complete description of the path. It is really heartening to realize that now much of what she describes here has come to pass in my own practice and humbling to realize just how far I have to go. She does not "guild the lily" at all and that has been helpful in putting what I have sometimes seen as my own failings in practice into perspective.

[Totochelamouche · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Buddha says of the second jhana (in the Samannaphala Sutta) [...]

These states of consciousness are the natural way for the mind to go. We can read of them in the reports written by Christian and other mystics. The terminology may be different, but not the experience. Teresa of Avila, giving instructions to her nuns in her book Interior Castle, described seven of the meditative absorptions, though in such a visionary way that today hardly anybody can follow her.

When the meditating mind becomes drowsy, it no longer knows exactly what is going on. It is as if the ground on which it stands is waxed, so that it slithers around in all directions. It does not move into definite thoughts, nor does it have any real hold on the meditation subject. This is sloth and torpor. At this point, we should stop. It is tempting to try to continue with the meditation because the feeling in the mind is quite pleasant. We are hardly aware of the dukkha because the mind has reverted to a state where it is neither asleep nor awake. It is in a kind of limbo. It is important to get ourselves out of this situation immediately, for it is a complete waste of time. We should open our eyes, move the body to encourage blood circulation, pull our earlobes, and rub our cheeks. As a last resort, we should stand up. It helps to give ourselves a pep talk: "The time for meditation is now; let me make the best of it."

The Pali Canon is also called the Tipitaka. Ti means "three" and pitaka means "basket." The Three Baskets are the Vinaya, the rules and discipline for monks and nuns; the Suttas, the Buddha's discourses; and the Abhidhamma, the higher philosophy of the teaching.

The first is that whenever we become aware of something unpleasant, we should immediately look for whatever is pleasant in it, not giving ourselves the chance to react negatively. By looking at its pleasant features, we arouse equanimity. The second is, when we become aware of something pleasant, we should immediately look at its unpleasant features, and through this, too, we arouse equanimity and do not become immersed in desire. The unpleasant feature of anything pleasant is its impermanence

Meister Eckhart, the medieval Christian mystic, worded it slightly differently when he said: "God and I are the same." He narrowly escaped being burned at the stake for this. He said it with no further explanation whatsoever, and I think we can assume that he reached the higher jhanic states.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh jhanas are often known as the vipassana or insight jhanas. Of course we also gain insights from the first four, as we have already seen. To recapitulate briefly: the first brings the insight that what we are looking for in the world is already within us; the second, that our sense-contacts can never provide us with the joy we experience in the jhana itself; the third, that contentment and peacefulness can only arise where there is wishlessness. [...] The fourth, that when ego assertion is minimized, stillness arises, and from that stillness comes even-mindedness, or equanimity.
The fifth and sixth jhanas bring the major insight that, during meditation, the person we think we are is not available. Space is there, consciousness is there, but although there is an observer, there is no person to be found. That observer has expanded to the infinity of space and consciousness, for otherwise neither could be known. [...]
In the seventh jhana, the Sphere of No-thingness, we realize that not only is there no person, there is no "thing." Neither in the infinity of space nor in the infinity of consciousness is there anything that can be grasped or held onto; not a single solid building block in the whole universe.

If we think about the past, for instance, we bring it into the present. If that past was unsatisfactory, we wish it had been different, thereby causing ourselves a lot of needless suffering. We should let the past rest. It is gone, there is no need to relive that unhappiness. We are alive now and practicing. The only thoughts that can benefit us are those that concern the path to liberation, as we experience it in the present moment. Equally, if we bring the future to mind, hoping for something we want, or praying that some other thing will not happen, we bring that also into the present and with it, dukkha. We need to look at ourselves honestly, though without judgment, and recognize how frequently we do this and how foolish it is.

People often claim to have accepted the fact: "I am not the body." It is a risky statement, however. A deeper insight would be: "The body is not mine." If we say, "I am not the body," it still implies ownership, and who is that owner? It is, of course, "me." "I" own the body, "I" try to keep it healthy and happy, bring it pleasant sense-contacts.

We should always question our ideas and try to see where they come from. If they are negative, we should question them even more. We need to recognize their source, which is always within ourselves. Any idea we have is just a projection. Even the idea of self is a projection, one that we would like to be true because it provides a foundation for our greed and hate. If, however, we have come to realize that these two do not bring us much joy, we may perhaps be able to go a step further than Potthapada. We may be able to see more clearly and wonder how we could ever have imagined there could actually be "somebody" within all that flux of arising and ceasing. Who could possibly be sitting inside, pulling the strings, like a puppet master in a puppet theater, making lifeless dolls dance and hop around? Do we really think we are that somebody? It seems that we do, and we should examine this idea over and over again.

After disenchantment comes dispassion, which is the springboard for the experience of Nibbana. At this stage, our disenchantment has grown so strong that, when greed or hate arise, we are able to drop them immediately, but they have not disappeared. Greed and hate are only lost completely at the last stage before enlightenment, and even then they hover in the background in a subtle way, though they no longer disturb us. Only the arahant, the Enlightened One, is entirely safe from them. With dispassion, however, we no longer want to grasp and cling, or reject and resist. The underlying tendency is still there, but we are able to let it go because we have seen the truth that lies in disenchantment. Unless we do so, we will not be able to continue on our spiritual journey.
Disenchantment and dispassion are vital steps on this path. It is worth repeating here that they cannot happen until we have recognized our own dukkha. If we simply want to add a little meditation to our lives, we can never come anywhere near either of them. Recognizing dukkha does not mean we have to experience some great tragedy. Dukkha is the constant feeling of restlessness, anxiety, and disquiet, not being quite at ease. When we recognize dukkha, confidence in the teaching arises. This means we are then willing to commit ourselves, not to a blind belief in the Buddha's words, but to finding out whether what he said is true on all its levels. With that commitment comes the joy of being able to do something that goes far beyond our worldly endeavors, and it is that joy that makes it possible to meditate.

Dispassion, as the Buddha says in this sutta, leads to "cessation, calm, and higher knowledge." As long as the mind has hate and greed, it cannot go beyond itself. It is caught in its own whirlpool of reactions. We can often actually feel this when our thoughts turn around in an endless circle, over and over again. [...] As long as we still harbor hate and greed and allow them to come to the fore in our meditation, we can never be calm or experience the higher states of consciousness. The mind is then still too connected to the world. In meditation, it is a question of calming the mind, so that it is able to see the world as simply a necessary foundation for the body, not as something that does or does not bring us happiness, and certainly not as something that needs our attention at that time. Of course, when we are confronted by people or situations, we must concern ourselves with the world, but for the period of meditation we need to step out of the eddies stirred up in us by greed and hate. Only then will we reach the higher jhanas and the higher knowledge, or abhinna, which means the loss of our hindrances and underlying tendencies. By the time we come to this point on our spiritual journey, these will have dissolved to such an extent that they are no longer an obstruction to us.

The Buddha repeats the list: whether the world is eternal or not, whether it is infinite or not, whether the soul is the same as the body or not, and whether the Tathagata exists after death or not, or both exists and not exists, or neither exists nor not exists.

Why? Because they are not...conducive to Nibbana. That is why I have declared them as uncertain.

Once again, he is making it clear that he only teaches that which leads to final liberation. No matter where we look in his teaching, it goes in one direction only. That was not always understood in his time and certainly not taught by many teachers.
It is the same today. Our journey leads us step by step to one goal, Nibbana. It does not lead to annihilation. There is nothing of that in Nibbana; there is only clarity, complete and utter knowing, the end of all illusion. This knowing, however, is not omniscience. The Buddha once said he could not know everything simultaneously; but where he put his mind, that he knew. To reach Nibbana is not to have acquired some kind of omnipotence, with which to make a great impression on the world. Rather, it is the end of delusion, and the end of dukkha.

But what things have I pointed out as certain? "This is suffering, this is the origin of suffering, this is the cessation of suffering, this is the path leading to the cessation of suffering." Why? Because they are conducive to the purpose, conducive to Dhamma, the way to embark on the holy life; they lead to disenchantment, to dispassion, to cessation, to calm, to higher knowledge, to enlightenment, to Nibbana. That is why I have declared them as certain.

Desire for sensual gratification has been mentioned at some length, and if we have looked into ourselves, we will already have seen the truth of it. But the craving for existence goes even deeper. It is the strongest desire we have, the one that constantly pushes us around. In our daily lives we are probably quite unaware of it. People often keep themselves busy simply to avoid seeing the unsatisfactoriness of the human condition. This is a common way of dealing with dukkha. But if we really look at the craving for existence, really get a feeling for what that means, then we will know what the Buddha taught, because that craving creates continuous dukkha.
It makes us grasp for things to fill the mind, that is why we think. It makes us move, to get away from whatever it is we do not like. Reflect for a moment on how our beds usually look in the morning: disordered, rumpled, bedding all over the place. The mind still experience dukkha, even in sleep, so we move about. When we wake, what is our first thought? Are we thinking: "Isn't it marvelous to be alive!"? How rare such a person is. For most of us, it is more likely to be: "Here we go again," or words to that effect. How many of us are aware of the way we actually come out of sleep? How consciousness arises, how it instantly wants to be filled with happenings, which we then create? Otherwise it would be too boring, we say, and we look around for things to do. But all this activity is nothing more than a means of supporting the illusion that there is an "I," who is busy and therefore really important. It feeds our craving to be.

It is only when we are thinking that we know we are existing. All this mental activity serves one purpose - to support the craving to be. In meditation, through using a meditation subject such as the breath, we learn to let go of discursive thinking. If we can let go of it then, we can do so in daily life as well. As we do so, calm and tranquility arise.
The craving for nonexistence is just the other side of the same coin. It is rooted in the same delusion, namely that there is a "me." In this case, the "me" does not want to be here. Everything seems terrible, and "I" want to get out of it. This is the "longing-not-to-be," and it is just as much of an obstacle to the experience of Nibbana as is the craving to be. If we have understood dukkha and are now willing to investigate the craving for existence, we must be careful not to fall into this trap. For if we come to the conclusion that things are unsatisfactory and full of suffering, we may want to escape from all that, which is in itself another form of craving. It is still "I" wanting to "get" something. This can never work. What is needed is just the opposite; to let go of everything that makes up this illusion, which we take for reality. It is the practice of seeing things again and again as they are and not as we believe them to be. As long as we are enmeshed in our beliefs and preconceptions, we can make no progress. It is like the wanderers who reproached Potthapada and made fun of him. They do not want to hear anything new.

The fear of annihilation manifests, too, when we are not valued, accepted, and loved. Some of us will do almost anything in order to be appreciated by others. It makes for a very unsatisfactory life because we become utterly dependent on other people's opinions and emotions, which are never reliable. But because we think we are somebody unique and separate, we need a support system for this person, and when we are unable to find it in ourselves, we try to get it from others. This will always be unsuccessful in the long run, though, of course, we may sometimes receive the love and appreciation we crave. None of us, however, will be given it all the time. Yet the "me," because it is based on an illusion, needs constant support. The bigger the illusion, the more dangerous is the craving. I like to compare it to a very fat person trying to get through a rather small door, bumping into the frame on both sides. In the same way, if we have a great need of ego support, we will feel bruised at the slightest criticism or lack of understanding. The bigger the ego, the more easily it bruises. The smaller the ego, the less difficulties we encounter. When there is none, we cannot be hurt at all.

This is such a radical teaching that obviously it is not easy to grasp. It runs counter to everything humanity believes in and does. That is why we need to look at the dukkha that arises out of these beliefs. When we see that clearly in ourselves - not in "those poor people out there who don't know what they are doing," but in our own selves - when we actually recognize our own dukkha and its cause, we come nearer to the truth. Everything that we believe in, everything we do, is always geared toward "self" and therefore contain desire, which brings dukkha.

The body is made up of the four great elements - earth, fire, water, and air - as is all materiality, and it is kept alive by material food, and that in itself obliges us to deal with a great many demands. If the body were not like this, life would be so much simpler. We would not need toilets, bathtubs, or showers; we would not need a kitchen; we would not have to spend so much of our time and energy buying, growing, or preparing the food our bodies require just to stay alive.
Let us think for a moment of our own homes. What do they contain? Everything is designed for the body. Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom; a living room with comfortable chairs or a couch to sit on. If we live on the upper floors of a building, there is probably an elevator as well, so that the body can be transported without any effort on our part. Wherever we look, we have arranged things for the body's convenience. No wonder we think it is us, or belongs to us.

At a time of calm abiding, the mind is willing and able to be objective, and loses some of the duality within which we normally operate.

We may also know that planning interferes with our meditation, but on the other hand, it is a pleasant pastime and takes us out of body-consciousness, where there may be aches and pains.

Afterward, nothing that happens in the world can ever again have the same impact. It is all taking place, but it is comparable to playing games with a child. We are very nice to that child, get along with it well. If it plays with building blocks, we show an interest, help it build a little tower or castle. But do we take the game seriously? If someone accidentally stepped on the tower or castle, the child might scream, but we would not. Of course we help people build castles, if the opportunity arises; we may even try to help them to see that these castles are not really worth building; but none of it is serious. It is just happening. This analogy, I think, makes it quite clear what the result is, and the person who has taken this step, who has attained complete obliteration of selfhood, is able to get back to that utter bliss of disappearance any time they wish.

There is a very nice analogy in the Visuddhimagga (Path of Purification), a thick volume of commentary on the Buddha's teaching, written by a monk called Buddhagosa, who lived in Sri Lanka in the fifth century. It can be difficult to read, for it is so minutely detailed, but as a reference book it is very useful and contains many analogies.

[Frank Jude · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ayya Khema presents a detailed, but quite accessible description of the complete path of Buddhist meditation. Using a sutta from the Long Discourses of the Buddha, a dialogue between the Buddha and a potential student, Potthapada, Khema traces the 'graduated' teaching of the Buddha, from generosity, through ethical training, concentration and up to wisdom/insight liberation.

[Sean Broe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ayya has a simple way of articulating Buddhism that I believe is only possible through true mastery and understanding. Her insights are timeless. This is my favorite book on the subject, and I have read many.

[james · Rating 5 out of 5]

Like Sharon Salzberg, this is one smart book. It is a transcription of a ten week meditation retreat given by Ayya Khema. Don't be fooled thinking this is some simple transcription of an ordinary contemporaneous talk. This is a thorough teaching on the self, cessation of perception and the jhanas. These are interrelated concepts and arriving at cessation of perception cannot be accomplished without a clear and practiced understanding of the other two, the jhanas and the nature of self. A great way to understand what the Buddha taught about 'self', the soul and the hereafter is to use the Potthapada sutta. Here, a lay person-- Potthapada, keeps asking the Buddha the same questions many of us ask: "Who is me? Do I have a soul? What happens to the self after I die? Is the world without end? Is the soul separate from self, or are they one and the same? Ayya weaves this sutta together with her own exposition to illuminate what the Buddha taught. What is surprising about the Buddha's conclusion is that he doesn't give in to fruitless and frivolous circular arguments. Only after gently instructing the inquisitive Potthapada on the Buddha's insights does he conclude telling Potthapada what he does teach, namely the four Noble Truths. New terms are introduced and explained, "the gross self, the mind-made self and the formless self." We become attached to these illusory selves through various mechanisms. Ayya endeavors to teach you these concepts and pushes you a little further down the eight fold path. I learned a lot about meditation and how to get better at it. I learned the jhanas, what they are and what they're not. There's always been some mysticism surrounding these exclusive meditative attainments. Not anymore and not that they're at all easy to achieve. Ayya explains each one very carefully using the Buddha's own analogies together with some clarifying thoughts of her own. I was most impressed by Ayya's retelling of the Buddha's careful description of how we construct a false self, an illusion made up of deluded and difficult to shake ingrained concepts. This is the definition of suffering. Understanding this is the first step to its cessation. Each moment is an eternity which we give up to regret about the past and to fret about the future. The flow of our lives is what it is, sometimes pleasant, sometimes not, at times neither pleasant nor painful, but still a continuous flow which we are inclined to stop by clinging. We cling because we don't see the true nature of impermanence . . . and on and on. Read this book if you feel inclined. Highly recommended.

[Dean Paradiso · Rating 4 out of 5]

I give this book 4 stars, because it introduces readers to a relatively unknown early Buddhist (Pali) sutta, that being the Potthapada Sutta. This sutta is quite unusual and also entertaining because its themes are around lesser discussed topics such as consciousness, higher realms, and philosophical questions that were relevant at that time for ascetics, and are still relevant today for philosophically inclined readers-- such as the nature of consciousness, cessation of consciousness, whether the cosmos is eternal etc. I am guessing that AK chose this rather unusual sutta because the topics do lend themselves more to the concentrative absorption type meditation approach, which was AK's speciality, and also the type of meditative approach that she employed during retreats, such as the one detailed in this book. There's also some mention of topics that are essential in the early Buddhist approach apart from meditation such as ethics, basic conduct, and the avluation criteria in listening to a teacher, or someone such as the Buddha who spoke from actual experience rather than entering into philosophical discussions based on speculation.

[Sarah Cruse · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5
This is coming from an atheist who enjoys concepts of Buddhist teachings and adored her other book, Being Nobody Going Nowhere. The overall tone of this book is to be kind to yourself and others despite any intrusive thoughts or memories. Live in the present and be thoughtful of yourself and those around you as we are all equal. The loving kindness meditations at the end of the book are beautiful.

This book is very different from Being Nobody Going Nowhere. It is heavy on the traditional teachings and terminology. It goes into the nitty gritty belief systems and edge cases. It had some beautiful concepts. Ayya Khema writes in a way that is blunt, complex, but easy to understand. Some of the examples such as someone being too fat to walk through a door as a metaphor for the ego and being from a household to homeless as a way of living the holy life felt insensitive.

I can see why others would find this book useful, but the focus on Buddha being Lord, worshiping aspects was a bit much for me. If Buddhism is a way of life for you and you want to seek out the edge cases, then this is the book for you.

[Mckinley · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderfully clear. Based on the Buddha's teaching to Pottapada of abhisannanirodha (highest extinction of consciousness).

[Marcos W. Sancio · Rating 3 out of 5]

Buen comentario divulgativo al Potthapada-sutta, texto sagrado del Canon Pali en el que se recoge la enseñanza del Buda al asceta Photappada sobre el fundamento de los jhāna como camino de liberación. Especialmente interesante si te interesa profundizar de forma analítica en las abstracciones meditativas que llevan a la cesación de la percepción.

Importante al valorar su lectura no olvidar que se trata de un manual para aproximarse a la idea de Śūnyatā y Anattā desde la perspectiva del Budismo Therāvada. Para disfrutarlo hay que tener disposición de acercarse a un texto bañado en el proselitismo de la disciplina monástica más tradicionalista y conservadora.

[Vincent Tian · Rating 5 out of 5]

这就是禅修的几个步骤的英文版本。

[Will Hambric · Rating 4 out of 5]

A detailed examination and handbook for Buddhist meditation.