http://www.dzogchen.org/teachings/talks/dtalk-95may22.htmlThe talk below was given on 22 May 1995 at the regular Monday night Dzogchen sitting group in Cambridge, MA.
Dharma Talk: The Five Skandhas
When we look inside -- when we wonder who and what we are and what's going on, when we ask who or what am I, who is experiencing our experience -- what do we find, if anything? Who am I? What am I? Where is the experiencer? Is it in my head? My brain? My heart? My legs? What do we find? Do we really exist as we think we do? Am I different than you? Are we who we think we are? That's the main subject of self-inquiry in Dharma -- to know one's self; to know one's true nature; to realize who and what we all are; to recognize the Buddha-nature, the transpersonal, innate nature, not just our superficial, momentary, conditioned personality, which is just the tip of the iceberg.
The original teacher of Buddhism in this world (Lord Buddha, the Awakened One, 563-483 B.C., India) gave his idea about who and what we are. We can use that as a framework, rather than just wandering around with "Oh, I don't know who I am" or "Who could know?" or "Who knows," always passing the buck. In truth the buck stops here, in your own lap. That's the bad news. But that's also the good news -- that mastery is in one's hands. We can know ourselves, as Socrates (among others) exhorted us. And this self-knowledge will make us free.
We have, or we are, a form. But what else are we? Are we just a body? Are we just flesh and blood, from dust to dust, as it says? The Buddha said we are the five skandhas. The word skandha is a tough word to translate. It means heap, aggregate, or component of individuality. We are five of these. Just check it out and let's see what it means, and what else there might be, if anything at all.
First, form: Solidity, earth element, shape.
Second, feelings: Sensations. Not just emotional feelings, but also physical sensations and so on. Whatever we feel.
The third skandha is perceptions: Experiences, like thoughts, sights, sounds, and so on. In the second and third skandhas, in feelings and perceptions, liking and not liking arise. That's when the whole problem, the whole duality, the whole push and shove starts. The entire, exhausting treadmill or roller coaster of ups and downs.
The fourth is will or volition: Intending to do things. That's where karma comes in. Liking and not liking arise, then from that devolves reactions. Reactions rather than freedom and proactivity.
Our form feels things, perceives things this way or that way, liking or not liking. Then actions or intentions push or pull, trying to get more, get less, ignore it, or get away from it. Avoidance, denial, greed, demandingness, attachment, and so on, equals dissatisfaction and misery.
And fifth is consciousness, or as Buddhism says, consciousnesses: States of mind.
That's what we are, according to the enlightened perspective of Buddha. Has anybody found anything else that they think we are that is not included in those five? So where is the soul? Where is the ego, the id, and the super ego in that scheme? It's interesting. If you analyze, maybe you feel guilty or depressed, or maybe you feel victimized, or maybe you feel powerful -- which skandha does that fit in? You can then see that all of the skandhas, these heaps, these piles, are bunches of stuff themselves. Like a pile of sand, a whirling composite of forces. There's no fixed entity anywhere. The body changes all the time, right? Do we look the same way we looked five or ten or twenty years ago? Every seven years every cell in the body changes completely. Not to mention how our mind is changing all the time. And our feelings, sensations, and perceptions. So who or what are we? Who am I? Ask yourself that simple, utterly profound question. Who or what am I? Who is experiencing one's own experience, right now, this very moment? Feel it, sense it; don't just think and analyze. Who is present, in yourself, right now?!
Blake said exuberance is beauty. I like that. We can fantasize exuberantly about ourselves -- we are an eternal soul, we are light, and so on. We can all make up our own notions if we choose. But it's all equally made up, exuberantly, creatively made up. We create and experience our reality. It comes out of our own psychological and karmic conditioning. So all of these five skandhas are composite, like congeries, whirling groups of forces, just like the body is. Not a fixed thing. The feelings, sensations, perceptions, intentions, states of consciousness -- where is that "what am I"? Where is your immortal soul? Where is your who you think you are? Check it out. That's the exercise. That's the direction one can look when one goes more precisely into who or what am I and what's happening here.
One's own name and form and self-concept are more like a constellation being named, with lines drawn in between the points of light to shape into a form -- a concept superimposed upon reality, somewhat different than reality itself.
This analysis leads to the realization of the three characteristic marks of existence: Anicca, anatta, and dukkha -- impermanence, ungovernable or not-self, and dissatisfactoriness. We can see that the body is anicca, impermanent, changeable. This is not dogma; this is just how it is, at least according to the enlightened vision of Buddha. Tell me -- is it right?
And the body is dukkha, ultimately dissatisfying. Who can get lasting, ultimate fulfillment from a body, from a sensual experience? Even the highest body experiences are fleeting and ephemeral, leaving us thirsting for more.
The most tricky fact of life of these three is anatta -- not-self, ungovernable, selfless. Is the body anatta? Is there a governor? Who's running the show? That's the meaning of anatta, not-self, which opens into great sunyata or emptiness, openness -- not just of the self, but of all created things. No independent existent entity anywhere. You can call this thing in front of me a gong, but you could also call it metal. You could also call it brown. You could call it a musical instrument. Or you could call it an antique. It depends on how you relate to it, how you conceive of it and label it. Similarly, everything depends on conceptual imputation. Nothing is just a particular thing. It's all interrelated. Everything is relative.
Things can be viewed from any number of different angles. Look deeply, explore reality in your own experience, moment by moment. Find out for yourself. It can be incredibly rewarding.
We are not who we think we are. One person says she's a woman. Someone else says there's a beautiful woman. Someone else says there's a young woman. Someone else might say there's an American. From the point of view of the aliens or the animals, what would they say? Who knows, but it would be quite different, right? It all depends on your perspective. So we are not who we think we are. We all have these fantasies, almost like superstitions, about ourselves; but when you check, there's form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness. That's what comprises our individual existence, according to the enlightened Buddha. This is a very interesting reduction of all of our sandcastles and fancies about ourselves. It's not meant to be depressing, but to introduce how things are, to introduce enlightened view or complete understanding. There is karma, there is cause and effect, and just as there is a way to perpetrate suffering, there is a way to end suffering, through insight and understanding how things actually work and who and what we are. It is not beyond our grasp, when we apply ourselves to the spiritual work, the inner investigation. So turn the spotlight, the searchlight, inwards; discover yourself.
This kind of deconstructionist approach can be applied to anything, so we can understand that things are not exactly what they seem to be. We can relinquish some of our clinging and our concepts about things, including mine and yours and our incessant craving: I want and I must have. All that falls apart gradually when you again and again see through the illusion that these fixed entities are real and that this fixed entity -- one's self -- is real. Then selfish grasping loosens, and we are more naturally at ease with everyone and everything, with things just as they are.
States of consciousness change all the time. There is no one state of consciousness that is lasting or fulfilling. So we stop taking refuge in any particular, temporary state of mind. As we grow up and mature, we get less and less idealistic. We get more disillusioned about the pleasures of the senses as being really fulfilling. We seek more deeply and see that it's not just the physical sensations that are fulfilling, that are the answer to our existential questions, to the crises we all face today. Pleasure and success alone is not enough, not what we really want. It's not just beautiful perceptions or sights or sounds, or hearing beautiful music all day that's going to answer our quest. It's not material possessions. It's not just having the right state of mind that's going to answer our quest. States of mind are always changing -- no matter how high, no matter how ecstatic we become, no matter what new drug or new meditation comes around; it's just another trip. This is not about getting high. This is about the inherent freedom and wholeness of being. Authentic Dharma makes us free.
So when we look into ourselves, it might be interesting to reflect on these five skandhas. You can read about them more deeply in different books, in the sutras as well as in modern books. Apply this analysis to yourself as a touchstone, which is where it really counts. That is where the rubber meets the road, where movement and spiritual growth actually occurs, through one's own regular spiritual practice.
What is all this me and mine, my body? We can say "my body." No one is going to argue if I say this is my body. Except for the Lord of Death! I never have had an original thought in my whole life, and I'm supposed to be a poet and creative. My mind; it's a joke. My intentions. Somebody said about a political leader, "He's just like a pillow. He always shows the imprint of whatever head was just leaning on it." I'm just passing on what's been passed to me. My wife and my this and my that; it's illusion, and yet we're invested in it. It's fool's gold, but we invest our whole life and energy in it, with very small returns. Me, myself, and I: The Three Stooges! It's fun, it's fine, yet it's absurd. Let's keep a bigger perspective, and not be lost in illusory appearances.
All of this analysis and examination can actually help support the meditative process, which is ultimately non-analytical and non-conceptual. It can help us have some basis for letting go, for relaxing and allowing, for relinquishing a lot of the dualism and selfishness which drives all the incessant pushing and the pulling. (I want, I need. I'm happy, I'm sad.) All of our neurosis, psychosis, and pathology. All our dissatisfying behavior.
According to Buddhist medicine -- and there are Buddhist medical tantras and teachings -- all the poisons, all the kleshas (conflicting emotions and inner obscurations), all the illnesses come from the mind. It's not just saying that everything is psychosomatic; it's a little deeper than that. It's that it's all karmic. It's all effects of causes that we create through negative actions, unwholesome ways of being, our energies getting tied up and knotted. The diseases come from the imbalance of the energies and the humors, which are related to the movements of the spirit and the mind. It's all interconnected. And just as the causes of illness and suffering are within us, true health, happiness, and well-being are within us, too.
We can heal many of these illnesses and imbalances from within, as it were, by working with the energy, the prana, and through purifying the heart and mind, realigning our karma, balancing our karma skillfully. Once we see that it is not just rigidly me and mine, that's it's a process -- everything is in process -- we can see where to skillfully adjust. Where to apply the lever, how to use the rudder. A little rudder can move the whole boat. If the boat is going in the direction of madness or lack of health or unhappiness, a little steering is called for. It's no big deal. We don't have to commit suicide and hope we get a better boat next time. To commit suicide so we get out of the rat race completely is a big mistake. There are other alternatives, and I think it is incumbent upon us to find and adopt them, rather than to just give up and give in to despair, hopelessness, and pain. We can transcend, we can go beyond, we can heal our so-called souls if not our bodies and minds. There is always hope.
I think this five skandha scheme is a very interesting one, in the sense that it can begin to raise some very interesting questions and help us dig deeper, rather than just having a vague, amorphous kind of understanding. We are individual. We are each responsible for ourselves and our karma and our relations. Our individuality is comprised of these five aggregates or skandhas. We can work with that. It is actually an expression of the Buddha-nature.
Now, doesn't anybody want to say, "I didn't hear anything about Buddha-nature in the five skandhas. Where's the Buddha-nature? Who made that up?" That's the right question. What Buddha-nature? I never said anything about it. Who made that up? What enlightenment? What nirvana? Who made all that stuff up? Is it in us or elsewhere? How to get from "here" to "there"?
We're all looking for something to hang our hopes on, but when we really get down to the present moment, to our own experience, to clear seeing, we come to what Buddha said: "In hearing there is only hearing; no one hearing and nothing heard." There is just that moment, that hearing. You might think, "Oh, a beautiful bird." How do you know it's a bird? It might be a tape recorder. It might be bicycle brakes squeaking. In the first moment, there is just hearing, then we get busy, our minds and concepts get involved. The Buddha went through all the five senses. "In seeing there is just seeing; no one seeing and nothing seen." And so on, with tasting, touching, smelling, and thinking. Thoughts without a thinker. In thinking there is just thinking. There is just that momentary process. There is no thinker. The notion of an inner thinker is just a thought. We imagine that there is somebody thinking. It's like the Wizard of Oz. They thought there was this glorious wizard, but it was just a little man back there behind the screen, behind the veil. That's how it is with the ego. We think there's a great big monkey inside working the five windows, the five senses. Or maybe five monkeys, one for each sense; a whole chattering monkey house, which it sometimes feels like. But is there really a concrete individual or permanent soul inside at all? It seems more like that the lights are on, but no one is home!
I think if we really look into ourselves, it will be very interesting and helpful. It will have a lot of implications, too many to even consider right now because it really affects everything. That's why Socrates, who is at the beginning of our Western knowledge lineage, said, "Know thyself." All philosophy can be unpacked from those two words. Know thyself, and you'll know everything. You'll know everyone; everything is available there. We don't have to make up some fancy foreign words -- Tathagatagarbha or Buddha-nature or some other Sanskrit word. Just know thyself. Even better, let's get rid of the archaic word thy: Just know yourself. Then you'll know what's what. You'll know who's on first. Everything will start to make more sense. It's like having a cosmic key, which unlocks all mysteries, or finding the fabled Philosopher's Stone.
Medieval Christian mystic Meister Ekhardt said, "The eye through which I see God is the eye through which He sees me." There is just the seeing. There's no me and God. Maybe we can't understand God. Let's retranslate it: The eye through which I see Buddha is the eye through which Buddha sees me. The eye with which I recognize awareness (Buddha-nature) is the eye with which awareness (Buddha-nature) recognizes me. That's an introduction to nondualism. In that way, we can really be totally present, not separate, not alienated, not scattered, not distracted. Totally present, whole, and coherent. It makes sense. Everything falls into place; everything fits from that perspective. There's room for everything. You don't have to get rid of anything. You see things as they are. That's wisdom. That's prajna paramita, transcendental knowledge. That's enlightenment. That's also the first facet of the Eightfold Path, the Eight Steps to Enlightenment: Impeccable view or outlook, complete understanding, enlightened understanding. That's the direction that this practice follows. Seeing things as they are; not adding on all of our fabulous fantasies. Of course, it's beautiful to add on as much as we want, but we should know that we are doing it, so we can also see through it. When we put on our rainbow-colored sunglasses, we factor that in when we look at things -- until we forget! Then we get lost in a magic spell of our own making.
That's all I wanted to say tonight. Any questions?
(A young child): How come Buddha didn't feel any suffering when other people were suffering?
That's a good question. Actually, Buddha wasn't really free of suffering as long as there is any suffering, because all are interconnected. That's why he or she is still working on it, fulfilling enlightened Buddha-activity. Of course, it is different to suffer yourself or to feel the pain of another, to know another's suffering. Enlightened ones know suffering and its cause, but are no longer caught up in it.
A four-year-old friend of mine said to his father: "Buddha's not pretending." I felt that little boy intuited something there. I think there is a way of understanding these things that comes even before our conscious, developed minds. The rest of us are pretending, but Buddha's not pretending.
Bodhisattvas vow not to consider themselves free of suffering until there's no more suffering anywhere. That's the vow that we aspire to, the Bodhisattva Vow -- the heroic, altruistic journey of awakening.
A lama once said, when some of us were meditating at this place and the birds were chirping, "That's the cry of their suffering!" I never knew how to take that exactly. Was he joking? What do you think?
What is the difference between Buddha-nature and monism, as in Vedanta or other philosophies?
Monism posits that everything is one. Buddhism would say something like, one what? Or, one from what point of view? Any totalizing answer is probably fallacious. You can say "not two," but there's not one. You can't have one without two. There's nowhere to view it from, nowhere outside the system to regard it from, no closed system anywhere. Therefore, interconnected means that everything is interconnected. It doesn't mean that it's all one thing. Buddhism, the Middle Way, takes everything apart. If there's one, does it have sides? Philosopher Nagarjuna asks, "One what?" We're not saying anything except that everything's relative. One related to what? That's why the Third Zen Patriarch's famous poem said at the end, "Not two." It's like there is not self and other; it doesn't mean we are one big thing. But where is the divider? Are we each the same, different or ...?
Various schools of Buddhist thought also have some of these philosophical problems; but in general, the Middle Way of Dharma takes the position that any position is limited, including that one. That's why we're not trying to arrive at any position. There's a great freedom in just being, in no position, in not trying to land anywhere. Zen Master Seung Sahn always exhorts us to "Only go straight. Don't know!" Not knowing may be sufficient, if we can tolerate that much ambuiguity.
For example, eight-year-old Patricia brought up a question tonight about Buddha's suffering that nobody can answer. I waffled on it. I switched from Buddha to Bodhisattva; didn't you notice? But that's the point. The mind and rational discourse is not really the tool to totally untie that mystery of being. When you analyze things until you just can't go anymore, then what? Maybe something else opens up, another side of the brain, as it were, another modality of knowing and being.
How come when the duality breaks down, you can't put your finger through things?
Some people say you can. But at such a moment, your finger also breaks down, is no longer as you now conceive of it. There are all these stories about Himalayan yogis going through walls and flying. Who knows? On the other hand, there are certain physical laws like gravity. Those are all in the realm of karma, cause and effect. But all of that has to be taken with a grain of salt. Who knows that it won't be seen in different ways at some other point, in other states of consciousness, or by beings in other dimensions?
However, for our purposes, it's good to clarify these matters as much as possible. What are we looking for? Why are we here? Not, where did the world come from? But what are we looking for and what's the most direct route to it? The Dharma addresses that directly with, I think, a minimum of extra scaffolding, a minimum of dogma. But that also depends on us, if we can really go to the point and stay on it moment by moment. Really being with what is -- being what is. That's Buddha-nature. In the five skandhas, there's no Buddha-nature, a special sixth skandha, a fancy feather sticking out the top. That's just a construct. That's why emptiness is so fearsome, so awesome as a teaching. It's like infinite openness. There's no final answer, no totalization possible to answer everything automatically, and that's a liberating answer. Just keep your eyes peeled every moment. Dance in the sky, with nowhere to fall; that's emptiness, that's liberation, that's freedom from the barbed wire concentration camp of concepts superimposed upon reality.
On the other hand, since I invoked Meister Ekhardt, all of these things open into mystery. Meister Ekhardt probably had as good a shot at it as anybody. Zen Master D.T. Suzuki studied Ekhardt in depth, and endorsed his mystical insight as congruent with the Mahayana doctrine of sunyata, emptiness.
Where does memory fit into the five skandhas?
In consciousness. If you look into Buddhist psychology and the Abhidharma, in consciousness there are 52 mental factors. Maybe memory is one of them. Does anybody here know? I forget.
You can unpack those 52 into more numbers. It's not just a moment of anger or lust or covetous or jealousy, but there's past, present, and future moments of them. That's the point of all of this. Then you start to see what is actually happening, how it works. You get a little more space around it, a little less identified with it as mine. It's just a reaction to a cause, moment by moment. Just mind-moments popping and crackling. Enjoy that spectacle, and remain undeceived.
Memory is pernicious in a sense: It helps us link up or identify with notions like "It's mine" and "That's how I am," and "My story, my history, my drama," and all of that. Thought is just a moment flashing, but then there's discursive thought that has to do with memory and connecting and strategizing and all of that. And you end up being in a certain position, going in a certain direction unconsciously adopting regular habitual patterns. You put a lot of body English on the ball -- it doesn't just go straight. Our self-image is like self-memory; it conditions how we relate to every experience.
I can intellectually accept the teaching of the five skandhas as true, but emotionally I am mostly unable to accept that it is true. How does one get past that?
You chew on it. Until your teeth wear down and then your jaw wears down and you see what's left. It's called meditation or koan practice. All these ball-buster kind of Buddhist koans and conundrums and debates and other techniques. You chew on it; it doesn't get chewed up, you wear down! There's a great Zen poem, an enlightenment poem. The master sings about "hearing the sound of emptiness gnashing its teeth." And we're the food. Mmmm! Delicious.
What is our existence? What is the force impelling this existence? Are we free to steer and master that, or do we just have to be blown forward by the karmic force, like dead leaves before the wind? That's the point. Of course, you can "exist" if you want. We are all here existing. But are we exactly what we think we are? As we go on, if we feel depressed about who we are, are we stuck with that? If our lives feel claustrophobic, are we stuck with that?
It would probably be just as false to say you don't exist as to say you do exist, because that would be another absolute, just one more attempt at a total answer, a final solution. Things are not that manageable, that neatly packageable. Life remains just a little bit more messy and juicy and marvelous than that.
There's a sane, healthy ego and grownup adult individuality that one has to maintain, obviously. But that's not the whole story. There's also a mature, transpersonal, unselfish engagement with the world we can maintain at the same time, so we're not so closed in, constricted, self-preoccupied. It doesn't mean we don't know the meaning of me and mine -- my shirt rather than her shirt. We still know which closet is yours and where to put your shirt. You put it on your body; you don't put it on your refrigerator or on the rosebush. So you know about yourself in the conventional sense. This conventional self exists, temporarily -- obviously!
But there's also the not-mine. Do we know about that? Do we appreciate the beyond-ourselves level of being? It is as if there are two kinds of self to discuss here: the conventional self, which functions and exists, relatively speaking, and the non-existent ultimate, eternal self, which is actually what anatta (not-self) refers to.
Let's make it very practical in terms of meditation. When you have a thought, of course we think it is my thought; but do we also know that it's not my thought, at the same time, that it just sort of popped up? You could say it comes out of emptiness or you could say it is just the karmic ripening of previous thoughts or you could say thoughts arise from the mind. But where does the so-called mind arise from?
Maybe we think it's a thought worth writing down, so we write it down. We catch it in the form of a poem, a haiku, or an epigram. But what does my mean? Like with my body. Who gave us this body? Where did you get the copyright on it from? Did you buy it? Did you build it? Do you fabricate and create it? What does "my mind" actually imply, as an idea? We can look at everything like that, and see how we are a little overly involved in holding onto those things as me and mine -- when they are merely on loan, as it were.
A moment of anger comes, and instead of just experiencing the energy of the emotion -- which might actually have some intelligent function, like to know something's wrong, that there is injustice -- you identify with it: I'm an angry person. What's wrong with me? I can never get rid of this. It has a logic to it, before it becomes me and mine, becomes judged and conceptualized and identified as my anger.
The emotions have their own logic, their own intelligence, their own place and function. They can actually help us experience the world, not just bring us into conflict. We could train ourselves in emotional intelligence, and utilize their awakened aspect, to vividly perceive and discriminate.
If and when we reflect on the five skandhas as comprising our individuality, it helps us identify less with momentary perceptions and habitual, mostly unconscious patterns, even while we become more conscious, wakeful, clear, and aware. Then we have more autonomy and less reactivity. We develop deeper understanding and self-knowledge. This is the road to freedom.
