Feedback welcome!
Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2013 10:51 pm
Hello:
I have practiced within a particular Buddhist group for about 20 years, being ordained (a recognition of commitment) with the name Satyadhana several years ago, but many still call me Kevin Schanilec. At ordination I was given a certain set of practices, but I soon realized those practices didn’t work for me, and the ensuing years have been a largely self-directed quest for insight. I would sincerely appreciate any feedback on where I am at.
Coming from a Buddhist group which more or less frowns on expressions of insight and attainment, this is a conversation I have been wanting to have with someone for some time. Just writing this has meant getting clearer, getting used to communicating about the subject, pruning it down to what I truly believe - incredibly valuable in and of itself. Thank you for making this forum available, and to Tejananda for pointing me here.
Mine has been a gradual process, starting with focusing on impermanence, but my decidedly analytical mind couldn’t get past a “me” that observed the impermanence of an “object”: a dualistic dead end. One day I decided to focus on emptiness rather than impermanence, and looked at my experience from that perspective. What had been my “mind” suddenly opened out into a vast expanse of space, as if I had pushed a long-forgotten button to a secret passage. I learned later that I had stumbled upon Mahamudra, and did that practice for a while. Watching how my experience was composed of transient thoughts and images, dependent on what my mind and physical senses were delivering, was very valuable. I realized the empty nature of mind, but there was still a strong sense of a self, an observer, whose mind was empty. I would search for “me” and get a strange knot in my stomach and experience waves of electric energy that could literally make me shake and quiver, as if whatever was there did not want to be disturbed. I was afraid of letting go of the self: what would remain?
In March of last year, I came across the Culasunnata Sutta, which concludes with realizing that what remains in emptiness are the six sense bases, which even an Arhat still has assuming he is alive in a human body. I immediately resonated with it. I finally had an answer that I agreed with in my bones. What remains is precisely that which has always been there: one’s basic experience, and nothing more. I started in on the formless sphere practice described in the sutta, and on April 23, sitting in a hotel room on a business trip, I began seeing that, rather than a self, all I have is experience, what the sense bases (physical senses and mind, etc.) deliver, nothing more. What I make of that input is ultimately my choice: I am at complete freedom within that.
It was during a solitary retreat last July that I believe I fully saw the self for the illusion that it is: something I have created and supported over time, but which simply isn’t there. It wasn't a big singular event or anything: after one meditation session, I felt strangely different, and realized that I no longer had access to anything I could call a self. I suppose I had been building up to it, and the practice is rather forward-looking towards the later fetters such that you pretty much have to abandon the notion of self to get through it, so I might have missed the actual instant when the self evaporated. My response was along the lines of “well, whaddaya know...”.
I decided to let a few weeks/months elapse after the retreat and see if I still come to the same conclusion, and I do: there simply isn’t a separate or enduring “me” or “self” in any way, nor has there ever been one. Self is a convention, not fact. There was never anything that actually needed letting go of, other than my efforts to sustain a continuing mistake. It struck me that an incredible amount of content has to hang together to have a self, and so much time and energy is needed to maintain it. A phrase that occurred to me is that “I can't take myself seriously anymore”: there is no “me” that I can possibly satisfy, actualize, or find: there simply isn’t anything there. It’s a pointless endeavor, if not worse.
What is the self? As I do it, formless sphere practice shows how one goes from basic perceptual experience to assuming there are things, then giving them attributes and a place in space and time. From there, let the grasping and clinging begin! This process of going from basic experience to an erroneous four-dimensional world was a well-worn, lightning-fast process. At some point in the distant past, I assumed or inferred that a self exists, and much of what I had said (“This is my car”, etc.), thought and done since then was from this perspective, which only served to reinforce it. Unless that assumption is questioned, it more or less self-propagates. In a way, “self” is a bad habit, a continuation of a mistaken conclusion.
Seeing through this illusion about “me”, a peace that I had not thought possible has settled in. Since then, I have not felt the palpable levels of frustration, desire, fear, tenseness, and resistance that I had always struggled with. Life seems to just flow now, without being so concerned about what might or might not happen next. I do things because they need to be done, rather than because “I” want them done. Following the ethical precepts is spontaneous now, rather than being a set of imposed rules. Those frequent mental narratives and fantasies about being a hero, long a favorite, have lost their appeal, as have certain hobbies and other distractions: I understand the role they had but I just don't see the point anymore. In dealing with difficult people, it feels like their stuff flows through me rather than causing a reaction, and I am able to engage in situations I normally would shy away from. I am more willing to be honest about what I am thinking and feeling.
If I do get caught up in something and get tense or agitated, intoning “experience” brings me back to what I actually am able to know in any given situation, and intoning “nothing” puts things back in their proper place. I realize what happens is that I have an ingrained habit of referring my experience to a presumed “headquarters” for a decision on what to do, and that there are certain situations where my self-oriented response was so visceral and predictable that I just got used to responding in a certain way. So, I need to stop and realize “Oh yeah, I don't have anything to refer this experience to...” and then move on.
Life is not perfect, and there is much still to do, but it feels like a permanent shift of perspective, a return to where I could/should have been all along, and I have a deep, gentle confidence that I am on the right track. It isn’t what I thought it would be: it just seems, well, happily normal. It’s been humbling and empowering at the same time, with a sense of relief that there’s so much that no longer has to be done or thought. I still use the words “I” and “me” in daily life; however, “me” is more of a snapshot in time than anything else, whatever it is that I am experiencing at a particular moment. When I search for “me”, there is nothing: all I find are the sensations generally construed as “body” and whatever else happens to be flying through my mind at the time. I've realized I can use the word “me” and not be fooled by it.
If someone new to all this were interested in the illusory self and were to ask me about it, I would tell them that the illusion of separate self is the habitual belief that there is something fixed, unique and lasting about “me”. The illusion can seep into every corner of one's life, and operate on such subtle levels as to be unnoticeable. Like rigid billiard balls, the illusory self collides and reacts with other selves. In spite of the most obvious indications that there really isn't a self, the pain, disappointment and fear, the illusion reflexively maintains its boundaries, and is particularly strengthened whenever we encounter something very desirable or very threatening. However, it doesn’t have to be that way.
I would ask them why they thought they had a self: what information do you have that supports this conclusion? Is it the recurring pattern of thoughts, feelings and all else you experience? As a start, look at those thoughts and emotions: where did they come from? Where do they go to? Can you pin them down for any period of time? How do you know you have a body: where do you get that information? Isn’t that just another set of thoughts which come and go? This menagerie of thoughts and images comprises the content of our experience. The mind is an amazingly flexible and creative thing, and it is understandable that you could infer or assume a “self” behind all that (and don’t worry: pretty much everyone has). Humans even made up gods to explain the tides, why the sun rises and sets, etc., assuming there was someone behind all that as well, but closer inspection eventually showed it wasn't the case. A closer looks reveals that there isn't a personal self, either.
If you're open to the possibility that all this can happen without a “me” calling the shots, with stillness and a sense of inquiry, go ahead and look for “me”, look for a self. I can tell you about the illusory self, but I can’t show it to you. In the end you have to see the illusion of “me” within your own experience, the only reliable information you have. At that point, it’s no longer inference or supposition: what you see is what you get. Just pay attention to what is actually there, without elaborating or interpreting it. What you’ll find is that the self is neither within nor without: calling its name, nothing is found, nothing shows itself. All that you find is raw experience that need not be interpreted in any particular way. Keep looking until you’re sure: it’s an incredibly convincing illusion. Also, be patient: it could take a lot of time to unlearn some deeply-ingrained habits. Don’t worry, this isn’t nihilism: you will always have some form of experience, but you can also have clarity as to what that experience represents. “Me” can be a presumed separate self, or a conventional placeholder for the current snapshot of your experience: you really can know the difference.
Peace - Satyadhana
I have practiced within a particular Buddhist group for about 20 years, being ordained (a recognition of commitment) with the name Satyadhana several years ago, but many still call me Kevin Schanilec. At ordination I was given a certain set of practices, but I soon realized those practices didn’t work for me, and the ensuing years have been a largely self-directed quest for insight. I would sincerely appreciate any feedback on where I am at.
Coming from a Buddhist group which more or less frowns on expressions of insight and attainment, this is a conversation I have been wanting to have with someone for some time. Just writing this has meant getting clearer, getting used to communicating about the subject, pruning it down to what I truly believe - incredibly valuable in and of itself. Thank you for making this forum available, and to Tejananda for pointing me here.
Mine has been a gradual process, starting with focusing on impermanence, but my decidedly analytical mind couldn’t get past a “me” that observed the impermanence of an “object”: a dualistic dead end. One day I decided to focus on emptiness rather than impermanence, and looked at my experience from that perspective. What had been my “mind” suddenly opened out into a vast expanse of space, as if I had pushed a long-forgotten button to a secret passage. I learned later that I had stumbled upon Mahamudra, and did that practice for a while. Watching how my experience was composed of transient thoughts and images, dependent on what my mind and physical senses were delivering, was very valuable. I realized the empty nature of mind, but there was still a strong sense of a self, an observer, whose mind was empty. I would search for “me” and get a strange knot in my stomach and experience waves of electric energy that could literally make me shake and quiver, as if whatever was there did not want to be disturbed. I was afraid of letting go of the self: what would remain?
In March of last year, I came across the Culasunnata Sutta, which concludes with realizing that what remains in emptiness are the six sense bases, which even an Arhat still has assuming he is alive in a human body. I immediately resonated with it. I finally had an answer that I agreed with in my bones. What remains is precisely that which has always been there: one’s basic experience, and nothing more. I started in on the formless sphere practice described in the sutta, and on April 23, sitting in a hotel room on a business trip, I began seeing that, rather than a self, all I have is experience, what the sense bases (physical senses and mind, etc.) deliver, nothing more. What I make of that input is ultimately my choice: I am at complete freedom within that.
It was during a solitary retreat last July that I believe I fully saw the self for the illusion that it is: something I have created and supported over time, but which simply isn’t there. It wasn't a big singular event or anything: after one meditation session, I felt strangely different, and realized that I no longer had access to anything I could call a self. I suppose I had been building up to it, and the practice is rather forward-looking towards the later fetters such that you pretty much have to abandon the notion of self to get through it, so I might have missed the actual instant when the self evaporated. My response was along the lines of “well, whaddaya know...”.
I decided to let a few weeks/months elapse after the retreat and see if I still come to the same conclusion, and I do: there simply isn’t a separate or enduring “me” or “self” in any way, nor has there ever been one. Self is a convention, not fact. There was never anything that actually needed letting go of, other than my efforts to sustain a continuing mistake. It struck me that an incredible amount of content has to hang together to have a self, and so much time and energy is needed to maintain it. A phrase that occurred to me is that “I can't take myself seriously anymore”: there is no “me” that I can possibly satisfy, actualize, or find: there simply isn’t anything there. It’s a pointless endeavor, if not worse.
What is the self? As I do it, formless sphere practice shows how one goes from basic perceptual experience to assuming there are things, then giving them attributes and a place in space and time. From there, let the grasping and clinging begin! This process of going from basic experience to an erroneous four-dimensional world was a well-worn, lightning-fast process. At some point in the distant past, I assumed or inferred that a self exists, and much of what I had said (“This is my car”, etc.), thought and done since then was from this perspective, which only served to reinforce it. Unless that assumption is questioned, it more or less self-propagates. In a way, “self” is a bad habit, a continuation of a mistaken conclusion.
Seeing through this illusion about “me”, a peace that I had not thought possible has settled in. Since then, I have not felt the palpable levels of frustration, desire, fear, tenseness, and resistance that I had always struggled with. Life seems to just flow now, without being so concerned about what might or might not happen next. I do things because they need to be done, rather than because “I” want them done. Following the ethical precepts is spontaneous now, rather than being a set of imposed rules. Those frequent mental narratives and fantasies about being a hero, long a favorite, have lost their appeal, as have certain hobbies and other distractions: I understand the role they had but I just don't see the point anymore. In dealing with difficult people, it feels like their stuff flows through me rather than causing a reaction, and I am able to engage in situations I normally would shy away from. I am more willing to be honest about what I am thinking and feeling.
If I do get caught up in something and get tense or agitated, intoning “experience” brings me back to what I actually am able to know in any given situation, and intoning “nothing” puts things back in their proper place. I realize what happens is that I have an ingrained habit of referring my experience to a presumed “headquarters” for a decision on what to do, and that there are certain situations where my self-oriented response was so visceral and predictable that I just got used to responding in a certain way. So, I need to stop and realize “Oh yeah, I don't have anything to refer this experience to...” and then move on.
Life is not perfect, and there is much still to do, but it feels like a permanent shift of perspective, a return to where I could/should have been all along, and I have a deep, gentle confidence that I am on the right track. It isn’t what I thought it would be: it just seems, well, happily normal. It’s been humbling and empowering at the same time, with a sense of relief that there’s so much that no longer has to be done or thought. I still use the words “I” and “me” in daily life; however, “me” is more of a snapshot in time than anything else, whatever it is that I am experiencing at a particular moment. When I search for “me”, there is nothing: all I find are the sensations generally construed as “body” and whatever else happens to be flying through my mind at the time. I've realized I can use the word “me” and not be fooled by it.
If someone new to all this were interested in the illusory self and were to ask me about it, I would tell them that the illusion of separate self is the habitual belief that there is something fixed, unique and lasting about “me”. The illusion can seep into every corner of one's life, and operate on such subtle levels as to be unnoticeable. Like rigid billiard balls, the illusory self collides and reacts with other selves. In spite of the most obvious indications that there really isn't a self, the pain, disappointment and fear, the illusion reflexively maintains its boundaries, and is particularly strengthened whenever we encounter something very desirable or very threatening. However, it doesn’t have to be that way.
I would ask them why they thought they had a self: what information do you have that supports this conclusion? Is it the recurring pattern of thoughts, feelings and all else you experience? As a start, look at those thoughts and emotions: where did they come from? Where do they go to? Can you pin them down for any period of time? How do you know you have a body: where do you get that information? Isn’t that just another set of thoughts which come and go? This menagerie of thoughts and images comprises the content of our experience. The mind is an amazingly flexible and creative thing, and it is understandable that you could infer or assume a “self” behind all that (and don’t worry: pretty much everyone has). Humans even made up gods to explain the tides, why the sun rises and sets, etc., assuming there was someone behind all that as well, but closer inspection eventually showed it wasn't the case. A closer looks reveals that there isn't a personal self, either.
If you're open to the possibility that all this can happen without a “me” calling the shots, with stillness and a sense of inquiry, go ahead and look for “me”, look for a self. I can tell you about the illusory self, but I can’t show it to you. In the end you have to see the illusion of “me” within your own experience, the only reliable information you have. At that point, it’s no longer inference or supposition: what you see is what you get. Just pay attention to what is actually there, without elaborating or interpreting it. What you’ll find is that the self is neither within nor without: calling its name, nothing is found, nothing shows itself. All that you find is raw experience that need not be interpreted in any particular way. Keep looking until you’re sure: it’s an incredibly convincing illusion. Also, be patient: it could take a lot of time to unlearn some deeply-ingrained habits. Don’t worry, this isn’t nihilism: you will always have some form of experience, but you can also have clarity as to what that experience represents. “Me” can be a presumed separate self, or a conventional placeholder for the current snapshot of your experience: you really can know the difference.
Peace - Satyadhana