To understand reality, I find the concept of dependent origination ( in Tibetan, ten del ), adopted by the Middle Way Buddhist school of philosophy, to be particularly helpful. All things and events arise in dependence on a complex web of interrelated causes and conditions. This suggests that no thing or event can be construed as capable of coming into, or remaining in, existence by itself. For example, if I take some clay and mould it, I can bring a pot into being. The pot exists as an effect of a myriad of other causes and conditions. These include the combination of clay and water to form its raw material. But beyond this, we can point to the coming together of the molecules, the atoms and other minute particles which form these constituents. Then there are the circumstances leading up to my decision to make a pot. And there are the cooperative conditions of my actions as I give shape to the clay. All these different factors make it clear that my pot cannot exist independently of its causes and conditions. Rather it is dependently originated.
Ten del can be also understood in terms of the mutual dependence which exists between parts and whole. Without parts, there can be no whole; without a whole, the concept of parts makes no sense.
All phenomena can be understood to be dependently originated because when we analyse them, we find that, ultimately, they lack independent identity.
What exactly is a clay pot? When we look for something we can describe as its final identity, we find that the pot's very existence - and by implication that of all other phenomena - is to some extent provisional and determined by convention. When we ask whether its identity is determined by its shape, its function, its specific parts ( that is, its being compounded of clay, water and so on ), we find that the term 'pot' is merely a verbal designation. There is no single characteristic which can be said to identify it. Nor indeed does the totality of its characteristics. We can imagine pots of different shapes that are not less pots. And because we can only really speak of its existing in relation to a complex nexus of causes and coditions, viewed from this perspective it has no one defining quality. In other words, it does not exist in and of itself, but rather it is dependently originated.
As far as mental phenomena are concerned, we see that again there is a dependence. Here it lies between perceiver and perceived. Take, for example, the perception of a flower. First, in order for a perception to arise, there must be a sense organ. Second, there must be a condition - in this case the flower itself. Third, in order for a perception to occur, there must be something which directs the focus of the perceiver to the object. Then, through the causal interaction of these conditions, a cognitive event occurs which we call the perception of a flower. Now let us examine what exactly constitutes this event. Is it only the operation of the sense faculty? Is it only the interaction between that faculty and the flower itself? Or is it something else? We find that in the end, we cannot understand the concept of perception except in the context of an indefinitely complex series of causes and conditions.
If we take consciousness itself as the object of our investigation, although we tend to think of it in terms of something intrinsic and unchangeable, we find that it, too, is better understood in terms of dependent origination. This is because apart from individual perceptual, cognitive and emotional experiences, it is difficult to posit an independently existing entity called mind or consciousness. Understood this way, consciousness is more like a construct which arises out of a spectrum of complex events.
Another way to understand the concept of dependent origination is to consider the phenomenon of time. Ordinarly, we suppose that there is an independently existing entity which we call time. We speak of time past, present, and future. However, when we look more closely, we see that again this concept is merely a convention. We find that the term 'present moment' is just a label denoting the interface between the tenses 'past' and 'future'. We cannot actually pinpoint the present. Just a fraction of a second before the supposed present moment lies the past; just a fraction of a second after lies the future. Yet if we say that the present moment is 'now', no sooner have we spoken the word than it lies in the past. If we were to maintain that nevertheless there must be a single moment which is indivisible into either past or future, we would, in fact, have no grounds for any separation into past, present and futura at all. If there is a single moment which is indivisible, then we would have only the present. But without a concept of the present, it becomes difficult to speak about the past and the future since clearly both depend on the present. Moereover, if we were to conclude from our analysis that the present does not then exist, we would have to deny not only worldly convention but also our own experience. Indeed, when we begin to analyse our experience of time, we find that here the past disappears and the future is yet to come. We experience only the present.
Where do these observations leave us? Certainly, things become somewhat more complex when we think along these lines. The more satisfactory conclusion is surely to say that the present does indeed exist. But we cannot conceive of it doing so inherently or objectively. The present comes into being in dependence on the past and the future.
How does this help us? What is the value of these observations? They have a number of important implications. First, when we come to see that everything we perceive and experience arises as a result of an indefinite series of interrelated causes and conditions, our whole perspective changes. We begin to see that the universe we inhabit can be understood in terms of a living organism where each cell works in balanced cooperation with every other cell to sustain the whole. If, then, just one of these cells is harmed, as when disease strikes, that balance is harmed and there is danger to the whole. This, in turn, suggests that our individual well-being is intimately connected both with that of all others and with the environment within which we live. It also becomes apparent that our every action, our every deed, word and thought, no matter how slight or inconsequential it may seem, has an implication not only for ourselves but for all others too.
Furthermore, when we view reality in terms of dependent origination, it draws us away from our usual tendency to see things and events in terms of solid, independent, discrete entities. This is helpful because it is this tendency which causes us to exaggerate one or two aspects of our experience and make them representative of the whole reality of a given situation while ignoring its wider complexities.
Such an understanding of reality as suggested by this concept of dependent origination also presents us with a significant challenge. It challenges us to see things and events less in terms of black and white and more in terms of a complex interlinking of relationships, which are hard to pin down. And it makes it difficult to speak in terms of absolutes. Moreover, if all phenomena are dependent on other phenomena, and if no phenomena can exist independently, even our most cherished selves must be considered not to exist in the way we normally assume. Indeed, we find that if we search for the identity of the self analytically, its apparent solidity dissolves even more readily than that of the clay pot or that of the present moment. We come to see that the habitual sharp distinction we make between 'self' and 'others' is to some extent an exaggeration. This is not to deny that every human being naturally and correctly has a strong sense of 'I'. Even though we might not be able to say why it is so, this sense of self is certainly there. But let us examine what constitutes the actual object we call self. Is it the mind? Sometimes it happens that an individual's mind becomes hyperactive, or it may become depressed. In either case, a doctor may prescribe medicine in order to improve that person's sense of well-being. This shows that generally we think of the mind as a possession of the self. Indeed when we think closely, statements such as 'my body', 'my speech', 'my mind' all have within them an implied notion of ownership. It is difficult, therefore, to see how mind can constitute self. The word 'self' does not denote an independent object. Rather it is a label we apply to a complex web of interrelated phenomena.
Here let us step back and review how we normally relate to this idea of self. We say, 'I did this; I did that', and nobody questions us. It is quite clear what we mean, and everybody is happy to accept the convention. Consider an instance where, in the dark, we mistake a coiled rope for a snake. We stop still and feel afraid. Although what we see is in reality a length of rope that we may have forgotten about, because of the lack of light and due to our misconception, we think it is a snake. Actually, the coil of rope possesses not the slightest property of a snake other than in its appearance. The snake itself is not there. We have imputed its existence onto something else. So it is with the notion of an independently existing self.
There is no single thing that can be found under analysis to identify the self. Just as when we try to find the ultimate identity of a solid object, it eludes us. Indeed, we are forced to conclude that this precious thing which we take such care of, which we go to such lengths to protect and make comfortable, is, in the end, no more substantial than a rainbow in the summer sky. The 'identitylessness' of phenomena points rather to the way in which things exist: not independently but in a sense interdependently.
'The Path To Freedom'
His Holiness / The Dalai Lama
Salam,
Cherine
ليست هناك تعليقات:
إرسال تعليق