Meditation in Action

Auszug aus dem Buch "Meditation in action" – Life of the Buddha – Shambhala Publications, Boston

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IT IS A CLEAR, hot summer's day, and the thick branches of the sal trees are brilliant with flowers and heavy with their load of fruit. The landscape is wild and rocky with many caves, and the nearest town is more than a hundred miles away. In some of the caves are yogis with long matted hair, dressed only in a thin white cotton cloth. Some are sitting on deer skins and meditating. Others are performing various yogic practices, such as meditating while seated in the middle of a camp fire, which is a well-known ascetic practice. Yet others are reciting mantras or devotional chants. The place has an atmosphere of peace, solitude and stillness, but is also rather awesome. It might have remained unchanged since before the creation of the world. It is completely still and silent. There aren't even any birds singing. There is a great river nearby, but no fishermen. The rilver is so vast, it seerns to be at least seven miles wide. On the bank ascetics are practicing the sacred ritual of purification. One sees them meditating and bathing in the river. That was the scene two thousand five hundred years ago in a certain place called Nairanjana in the province of Bihar in India.

A certain prince, called Siddhartha, arrives. His appearance is aristocratic; he has only recently removed his crown and his earrings and ornaments, so he feels rather naked. He has just sent away his horse and his last attendant, and now he puts on a clean white cotton cloth. He looks around him and tries to imitate the other ascetics. He wants to follow their example, so he approaches one of them and asks for instruction in the practice of meditation. First he explains that he is a prince and has found life in the palace to be meaningless. He has seen that there is birth, death, sickness and old age. He has also seen a sage walking along the street and this has inspired him. This is the example and the way of life he wants to follow. lt is all new to him, and at first he cannot accept that this is actually happening. He cannot forget the luxuries and sensual enjoyments which he had in the palace and which are still revolving through his mind. This was prince Siddhartha, the future Buddha. He then recelved instruction, perhaps rather unwillingly, from his present guru.

He was given the ascetic practice of a rishi and taught to slt cross-legged and einploy the seven postures of yoga and to practice yogic breathing exercises. At first it was so new to him that it ,was almost like a game. He also enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment at having at last managed to leave his worldly possessions to follow this wonderful way of life. The memory of his wife and child and his parents was still very much in his mind, which must have disturbed his practice of yoga, but it seemed there was no way to control the mind. And the yogis never told him anything, except to follow the ascetic practice.

This was Buddha's experience, then, roughly two thousand five hundred years ago. And one would find even now a very similar landscape and have very similar experiences if one decided to leave home and renounce hot and cold water baths and forget about home cooking and the luxury of riding in motor cars, or public transport for that matter, which is still a great luxury. Some of us might go by airplane and take only a few hours to get there: before you know where you are, you are in the middle of India. Some who are more adventurous may, perhaps, decide to hitchhike. Nevertheless it would still seem unreal, the journey would be continually exciting and there would never be a dull moment.

Finally we arrive in India. Perhaps in some ways it is disappointing. You will see a certain amount of modernization, and the snobbishness of the high-class, bettereducated Indians, who are still imitating the British Raj. One might find it rather irritating at first, but somehow one accepts it and tries to leave the town as quickly as possible and head for the jungle. (In this case it may be a Tibetan monastery or an Indian ashram.) We could follow the same example and perhaps have more or less the same experience as prince Siddhartha. The first thing that would be very much on our minds would be the ascetic aspect of it, or rather the absence of luxury. Now, would we learn anything from these first few days and months? Perhaps we would learn something of the way of life. But perhaps, because we had never seen such a country, we would be more inclined to be excited. One tends to interpret everything, and an internal conversation goes on in the mind as one struggles to break down the barriers of communication and language. One is still living very much in one's own world. Just as it was for Buddha, so for us the excitement and the novelty of being in a strange country would not wear out for several months. One would write letters home as if possessed by the country, intoxicated with excitement and the strangeness of it all. So if one returned after only a few days or weeks, one would not have learned very much, one would merely have seen a different country, a different way of life. And the same thing would have happened to Buddha if he had left the jungle of Nairanjana and returned to his kingdom in Rajgir.

In the case of Buddha, he practiced meditation for a long time under Hindu teachers, and he discovered that asceticism and merely conforming to one religious set up did not particularly help. He still didn't get the answer. Well, perhaps he got some answers. In a sense these questions were already answered in his mind, but he was more or Iless seeing what he wanted to see, rather than seeing things as they were. So in order to follow the spiritual path one must first overcome the initial excitement; that is one of the first essentials. For unless one is able to overcome this excitement, one will not be able to learn, because any form of emotional excitement has a blinding effect. One fails to see life as it is because one tends so much to build up one's own version of it. Therefore one should never commit oneself or conform to any religious or political structure without first finding the real essence of what one is looking for. Labeling oneself, adopting an ascetic way of life or changing one's costume-none of these brings about any real transformation.

After several years Buddha decided to leave. He had learned a great deal in a sense, but the time had come for him to say goodbye to his teachers, the Indian rishis, and to go off on his own. He went to a place quite a long way from there, although still on the bank of the Nairanjana river, and sat down under a pipal tree (which is also known as the Bodhi tree). For several long years he remained there, seated on a large stone, eating and drinking very little. This was not because he felt it necessary to follow the practice of strict asceticism, but he did feel it was necessary to remain alone and find things out for himself, rather than to follow someone else's example. He might have reached the same conclu sions by different methods, but that is not the point. The point is that whatever one is trying to learn, it is neces sary to have firsthand experience, rather than learning from books or from teachers or by merely conforming to an already established pattern. That is what he found, and in that sense Buddha was a great revolutionary in his way of thinking. He even denied the existence of Brahma, or God, the Creator of the world. He deter mined to accept nothing which he had not first discov ered for himself. This does not mean to say that he disregarded the great and ancient tradition of India. He respected it very much. His was not an anarchistic attitude in any negative Sense, nor was it revolutionary in the way the Communists are. His was real, positive revolution. He developed the creative side of revolution, which is not trying to get help from anyone else, but finding out for oneself. Buddhism is perhaps the only religion which is not based on the revelation of God nor on faith and devotion to God or gods of any kind. This does not mean that Buddha was an atheist or a heretic. He never argued theological or philosophical doctrines at all. He went straight to the heart of the matter, namely how to See the truth. He never wasted time in vain speculation.

By developing such a revolutionary attitude one learns a great deal. For example, suppose one misses lunch one day. One may not be hungry, one may have had a large breakfast, but the idea of missing lunch affects one. Certain patterns are formed within the framework of society and one tends to accept them without questioning. Are we really hungry, or do we just want to fill up that particular midday time? That is a very simple and straightforward example. But much the same applies when we come to the question of ego.

Buddha discovered that there is no such thing as "I," ego. Perhaps one should say there is no such thing as geam," "I am." He discovered that all these concepts, ideas, hopes, fears, emotions, conclusions, are created out of one's speculative thoughts and one's psychological inheritance from parents and upbringing and so on. We just tend to put them all together, which is of course partly due to lack of skill in our educational System. We are told what to think, rather than to do real research from within ourselves. So in that Sense asceticism, meaning the experience of bodily pain, is by no means an essential part of Buddhism. What is important is to get beyond the pattern of mental concepts which we have formed. That does not mean that we have to create a new pattern or try to be particularly unconventional and always go without lunch or what have you. We do not have to turn everything upside down in our pattern of behavior and in the way we present ourselves to other people. That again would not particularly solve the problem. The only way to solve the problem is by examining it thoroughly. From this point of view we have a certain desire-or not even as strong as desire-more a feeling of wanting to conform to something. And one does not even think about it, one is just led to it. So it is necessary to introduce the idea of mindfulness. Then we can examine ourselves each time, and go beyond mere opinions and so-called common Sense conclusions. One must learn to be a skillful scientist and not accept anything at all. Everything must be Seen through one's own microscope and one has to reach one's own conclusions in one's own way. Until we do that, there is ho savior, no guru, no blessings and no guidance which could be of any help.

Of course, there is always this dilemma: if there is no help, then what are we? Are we nothing? Are we not trying to reach something higher? What is this higher thing? What, for example, is Buddhahood? What is en lightenment? Are they just nothing, or are they some thing? Well, I am afraid I am really no authority to answer this. I am merely one of the travelers, like everyone else here. But from my own experience-and my knowledge is, as the scripture describes it, "like a single grain of sand in the Ganges"-I would say that when we talk of "higher" things we tend to think in terms of our own point of view, a bigger version of ourselves. When we speak of God, we tend to think in terms of our own image, only greater, colossal, a kind of expansion of ourselves. It is like looking at ourselves in a magnifying mirror. We still think in terms of duality. I am here, He is there. And the only way to communicate is by trying to ask His help. We may feel we are making contact at certain times, but somehow we can never really communicate in this way. We can never achieve union with God, because there is a fixed concept, a prefabricated conclusion, which we have already accepted and we are merely trying to put that great thing into a small container. One cannot drive a camel through the eye of a needle. So we have to find some other means. And the only way to find it is to come back to the sheer simplicity of examining ourselves. This is not a question of trying to be "religious" or of making sure that one is kind to one's neighbor, or of giving as much money as possible to charity. Though of course these things may also be very good. The main point is that we should not merely accept everything blindly and try to fit it into the right pigeonhole, but try to see it at first hand from our own experience.

This brings us to the practice of meditation, which is very important. The trouble here is that one usually finds that books, teachings, lectures and so on are more concerned with proving that they are right than with showing how it is to be done, which is the essential thing. We are not particularly interested in spreading the teachings, but we are interested in making use of them and putting them into effect. The world is moving so fast, there is no time to prove, but whatever we learn, we must bring it and cook it and eat it immediately. So the whole point is that we must see with our own eyes and not accept any laid-down tradition as if it had some magical power in it. There is nothing magical which can transform us just like that. Although, being mechani cally minded, we always look for something which will work by merely pressing a button. There is a great at traction in the short cut, and if there is some profound method which offers a quick way, we would rather follow that than undertake arduous journeys and difficult practices. So here we see the true importance of asceticism: punishing oneself leads nowhere, but some manual work and physical effort is necessary. If we go somewhere on foot, we know the way perfectly, whereas if we go by motor car or airplane we are hardly there at all, it becomes merely a dream. Similarly, in order to see the continual pattern of development, we have to go through it manually. That is one of the most important things of all. And here discipline becomes necessary. We have to discipline ourselves. Whether in the practice of meditation or in everyday life, there is a tendency to be impatient. On beginning something one tends to just taste it and then leave it; one never has the time to eat it and digest it Properly and see the aftereffect of it. of course, one has to taste for oneself and find out if the thing is genuine or helpful, but before discarding it one has to go a little bit further, so that at least one gets firsthand experience Of the preliminary stage. This is absolutely necessary.

That is also what Buddha found. And that is why he sat and meditated on the bank of the Nairanjana for several years, hardly moving from. the spot. He meditated in his own way, and he found that returning to the world was the only answer. When he discovered the awakened state of mind, he realized that leading an ascetic life and punishing oneself did not help, so he got up and went to beg for some food. The first person he met, near Bodhgaya, was a wealthy woman who owned many cows. She gave him some boiled condensed milk with honey in it, and he drank it and found it delicious. Not only that, but he found it greatly enhanced his health and energy, as a result of which he was able to make great progress in the practice of meditation. The same thing happened in the case of the great Tibetan yogi Milarepa. The first time he went out and received a properly cooked meal, he found that it gave him new strength and he was able to meditate properly.

Buddha then looked around for somewhere comfortable to sit, having decided that sitting on a stone seat was too hard and painful. A farmer gave him a bunch of kusa grass, and Buddha spread it under a tree at Bodhgaya and sat down there. He had discovered that trying to achieve something by force was not the answer and in fact for the first time he accepted that there was nothing to achieve. He completely abandoned all ambition. He had his drink and he had his seat, and he made himself as comfortable as possible. That very night he finally attained sambodhi, the fully awakened state. But that wasn't quite enough, he hadn't quite overcome everything. All his hidden fears and temptations and desires, the last lash of ego, came to him in the form of Mara, the Evil One. First Mara sent his beautiful daughters to seduce him, but without success. Then came the fierce troops of Mara, the last tactic of the ego. But Buddha had already achieved the state of maitri, loving-kindness. In other words he was not just compassionate in the sense of looking down on Mara as stupid-for Mara was his own projection-but he had achieved the nonresisting state, the state of nonviolence, where he identified himself with Mara. In the scriptures it says that each arrow of Mara became a rain of flowers falling down on him. So finally the ego surrendered and he achieved the awakened state of mind. We ourselves might have such an experience, perhaps in a short glimpse of clarity and peace-the open state of mind-but thai is not quite enough. We have to learn how to put that into effect, we have to use that as a kind of center from which we can expand. One has to create the situation around one, so that one does not have to say, "I am the awakened person." If one had to say such a thing and demonstrate it verbally, one would not be awakened.

Buddha then walked for about seven weeks. In a sense he was just alone, and one might say he was a very lonely person, as he was the only one who saw and who had achieved something. He knew some of the answers for dealing with life and for finding the true meaning, or suchness, in the world of samsara. But he was not quite sure how to present this and he almost decided not to speak. There is a gatha, or short verse, in one of the sutras where he says, 'Profound peace without limit, such is the teaching I have found. But no one would be able to understand this, therefore I shall remain silent in the jungle." But then the true and final establishment of compassion came and he saw his ability to create the right situation. Up to this point he still had the desire to teach (because he had achieved something he felt that he should save the world-if one may use such an expression). But he had to give up this idea of saving all sentient beings. Then at the very moment when he had decided to leave the world and return to the jungle, the real, selfless compassion arose in him. He was no longer aware of himself as a teacher, he no longer had the idea that he had to save people, but whenever the situation presented itself he dealt with it spontaneously.

He preached and taught for about forty years, and spent his life walking from one end of India to the other. He did not ride on an elephant or a horse or a chariot, but simply walked barefoot all over India. I think if any of us had seen him or heard him talk, it would not have been anything like a lecture as we know it. lt was just simple conversation. It was not the talking that was important but the whole situation that he created; it was not because he had achieved such spiritual power and thereby dominated the whole scene, but because he was simply being true-just as any of us could be. Therefore the teaching had been taught before he opened his mouth. That is why we find in the sutras that gods and asuras and all kinds of people from different parts of India attended his talks and saw him and met him, and all could understand him. They did not have to ask him questions, but they automatically received the answers. This is a wonderful example of communication. Buddha never claimed that he was an incarnation of God, or any kind of divine being. He was just a simple human being who had gone through certain things and had achieved the awakened state of mind. It is possible, partially possible at least, for any of us to have such an experience.

From this example we see that speech alone is not the only method of communication. There is already communication before we say anything, even if we are only saying "Hello," or "How are you?" Somehow communication also continues after we finish speaking. The whole thing must be conducted in a very skillful way, by being true and not self-centered. Then the concept of duality is absent and the right pattern of communication is established. It is only through one's own experience of searching that this can be achieved, and not through merely copying someone else's example. Neither asceticism nor any preconceived pattern will provide the answer. We have to make the first move our selves rather than expecting it to come from the phenomenal world or from other people. If we are meditating at home and we happen to live in the middle of the High Street, we cannot stop the traffic just because we want peace and quiet. But we can Stop ourselves, we can accept the noise. The noise also contains silence. We must put ourselves into it and expect nothing from outside, just as Buddha did. And we must accept whatever situation arises. As long as we never retreat from the situation, it will always present itself as a vehicle and we will be able to make use of it. As it is said in the scriptures, "The Dharma is good at the beginning, the Dharma is good in the middle and the Dharma is good at the end." In other words the Dharma never becomes out of date, since fundamentally the situation is always the same.