Sections of Michael Newton's Life between Lives Series

From Journey of Souls (conclusion)

One of the most troublesome concerns of all people who want to believe in something higher than themselves is the causality of so much negativity in the world.
Evil is given as the primary example. When I ask my subjects how a loving God could permit suffering, surprisingly there are few variations in their responses. My cases report our souls are born of a creator which places a totally peaceful state deliberately out of reach so we will strive harder.
We learn from wrongdoing. The absence of good traits exposes the ultimate flaws in our nature. That which is not good is testing us, otherwise we would have no motivation to better the world through ourselves, and no way to measure advancement. When I ask my subjects about the alternating merciful and wrathful qualities we perceive to be the self-expression of a teacher-oversoul, some of them say the creator only shows certain attributes to us for specific ends. For instance, if we equate evil with justice and mercy with goodness and if God allowed us only to know mercy, there would be no state of justice.
This book presents a theme of order and wisdom rising from many spiritual energy levels. In a remarkable underlying message, particularly from advanced subjects, the possibility is held out that the God-oversoul of our universe is on a less-than perfect level. Thus, complete infallibility is deferred to an even higher divine source.
From my work I have come to believe that we live in an imperfect world by design. Earth is one of countless worlds with intelligent beings, each with its own set of imperfections to bring into harmony. Extending this thought further, we might exist as one single dimensional universe out of many, each having its own creator
governing at a different level of proficiency in levels similar to the progression of souls seen in this book. Under this pantheon, the divine being of our particular house would be allowed to govern in His, Her, or Its own way.
If the souls who go to planets in our universe are the offspring of a parent oversoul who is made wiser by our struggle, then could we have a more divine grandparent who is the absolute God? The concept that our immediate God is still evolving as we are takes nothing away from an ultimate source of perfection who spawned our God. To my mind, a supreme, perfect God would not lose omnipotence or total control over all creation by allowing for the maturation of less-than-perfect superior offspring. These lesser gods could be allowed to create their own imperfect worlds as a final means of edification so they might join with the ultimate God.
The reflected aspects of divine intervention in this universe must remain as our ultimate reality. If our God is not the best there is because of the use of pain as a teaching tool, then we must accept this as the best we have and still take the reasons for our existence as a divine gift. Certainly this idea is not easy to convey to someone
who is physically suffering, for example, from a terminal illness. Pain in life is especially insidious because it can block the healing power of our souls, especially if we have not accepted what is happening to us as a preordained trial. Yet, throughout life, our karma is designed so that each trial will not be too great for us to endure.
At a wat temple in the mountains of Northern Thailand, a Buddhist teacher once reminded me of a simple truth. "Life," he said, "is offered as a means of selfexpression, only giving us what we seek when we listen to the heart." The highest forms of this expression are acts of kindness. Our soul may be traveling away from a
permanent home, but we are not just tourists. We bear responsibility in the evolution of a higher consciousness for ourselves and others in life. Thus, our journey is a collective one.
We are divine but imperfect beings who exist in two worlds, material and spiritual.
It is our destiny to shuttle back and forth between their universes through space and time while we learn to master ourselves and acquire knowledge. We must trust in this process with patience and determination. Our essence is not fully knowable in most physical hosts, but Self is never lost because we always remain connected to
both worlds.
A number of my more advanced subjects have stated there is a growing movement in the spirit world to "change the game rules on Earth." These people say their souls had less amnesia about Self and the interlife when they lived in earlier cultures. It seems in the last few thousand years there has been tighter blocking, on a conscious level, of our immortal memories. This has been a contributing factor in the loss of faith in our capacity for self-transcendence. Earth is filled with people who feel an empty hopelessness toward the meaning of life. The lack of connection with our immortality combined with the availability of mind-altering chemicals and overpopulation has created rumbles upstairs. I am told large numbers of souls who have had more frequent   incarnations in recent centuries on Earth are opting, when they get the chance, for less stressful worlds. There are enlightened places where amnesia is greatly reduced without causing homesickness for the spirit world. As we approach the next millennium, the masters who direct Earth's destiny appear to be making changes to permit more information and understanding of who we are and why we are here to come into our lives. 

From Journey of Souls 

Unlike the highly advanced souls, such as case 44, most of my clients are unable to recognize that the Elders could be fallible beings them- selves. Other than fleeting moments with a more powerful and loving Presence, the Council of Elders is the highest authority people directly encounter in their spiritual visions. As a result of what they see in a trance state, my subjects do have the sense of a vertical tier effect of soul attainment in the spirit world. This perception of the cosmos is not a  new belief system in human civilization.

Indian, Egyptian, Persian and Chinese texts of the past speak of “the agencies of God” who were personified as metaphysical entities, some of whom were even anthropomorphic. Early Greco-Hebrew religious philosophy also identified with a stair-stepped concept of spiritual masters, each one more divine than the last. Many cultures believed that while God is the Source of all creation and is totally good, the management of our universe was delegated through a combination of lesser beings who were mediators of reason and the purveyors of divine thought between a perfect being and a finite world. They were considered to be emanations of the Creator, but beings who were less than perfect. Perhaps this helped explain the imperfections of our world with God still being the First Cause.

The pantheistic view is that all manifestations in the universe are God. Over a long span of time the spiritual philosophy of some cultures evolved into a conception that the divine forces which govern our lives were essentially words of wisdom, analogous to the reasoning powers of human beings. In other societies, these forces were thought of as Presences capable of influencing our world. The Christian church found the whole idea of intermediaries emanating from a supreme Source to be unacceptable. The position of Christianity is that a perfect being would not delegate a less than perfect being—who could make mistakes—to run our universe.

The Old Testament God spoke through prophets. In the New Testament, the word of God comes through Jesus who, Christians believe, is the image of God. Still, the prophets of all the major religions are reflections of God to their followers. I feel the acceptance of prophets in many religions around the world has its roots in our soul memory of sacred intermediaries—such as guides and Elders—between ourselves and the creator Source. In our long history on this planet there have been many cultures with mythological figures having cosmological functions as mediators between the unknowable God and a hostile world. I don’t feel we should relegate myths, as a means of explaining the world, to primitive thought. What we rationally know today still does not answer the mystery of creation any more than in the past.

In terms of the First Cause, I have found both old and new spiritual concepts can be reconciled in one significant way. Souls are able to create living things out of an energy source provided for them. Thus, souls are able to make something out of something in a variety of settings. In religious theology, divine creation is making something out of nothing. There are those who believe that the Godhead does not create physical matter but only the conditions which allow highly advanced beings to do so.

Is Earth a laboratory created by higher forms of energy for the lower to advance through many stages of development? If so, these higher beings are our Source but not the Source. In Journey of Souls, I wrote about the possibility of a creator lacking full perfection and having the need to grow stronger by expressing its essence. However, it could have the need to do this even if it was perfect. The philosophy of a divine stair-stepping authority validates the belief of many people that Earth and our physical universe is far too chaotic to have been formed by ultimate perfection. In my view, this whole idea takes nothing away from a perfect Source somewhere who set everything in motion for all souls eventually to become perfect. Our transformation from total ignorance to perfected knowledge involves a continual process of enlightenment by having faith that we can be better than we are.

 

From Wikipedia - Mormon Cosmology

 

According to Mormon cosmology, there was a pre-existence, or a pre-mortal life, in which human spirits were literal children of heavenly parents.[1] Although their spirits were created, the essential "intelligence" of these spirits is considered eternal, and without beginning. During this pre-mortal life, a Plan of Salvation was presented by God the Father (Elohim) with Jehovah (the premortal Jesus) championing moral agency but Lucifer (Satan) insisting on its exclusion. When Lucifer's plan was not accepted, he rebelled against God the Father and was cast out of heaven, taking "the third part" of the hosts of heaven with him to the earth, thus becoming the tempters.

According to the Plan of Salvation, under the direction of God the Father, Jehovah created the earth as a place where humanity would be tested. After the resurrection, all men and women—except the spirits that followed Lucifer and the sons of perdition—would be assigned one of three degrees of glory. Within the highest degree, the celestial kingdom, there are three further divisions, and those in the highest of these celestial divisions would become gods and goddesses through a process called "exaltation" or "eternal progression". The doctrine of eternal progression was succinctly summarized by LDS Church leader Lorenzo Snow: "As man now is, God once was: As God now is, man may be."[2][3] According to Smith's King Follett discourse, God the Father once passed through mortality as Jesus did, but how, when, or where that took place is unclear. The prevailing view among Mormons is that God once lived on a planet with his own higher god.[4][5]

According to Mormon scripture, the Earth's creation was not ex nihilo, but organized from existing matter. The Earth is just one of many inhabited worlds, and there are many governing heavenly bodies, including the planet or star Kolob, which is said to be nearest the throne of God. 

Origin of Elohim (God the Father)
According to Mormon theology, God the Father is a physical being of "flesh and bones."[17] Mormons identify him as the biblical god Elohim. Latter-day Saint leaders have also taught that God the Father was once a mortal man who has completed the process of becoming an exalted being.[18] According to Joseph Smith, God "once was a man like one of us and … once dwelled on an earth the same as Jesus Christ himself did in the flesh and like us."[19]

...

According to a revelation dictated by Joseph Smith, Jesus is the creator of many worlds, so "that by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God."[37] Smith's translation of the Bible also refers to "many worlds", and states that the vision Moses had on biblical Mount Sinai was limited to "only account of this earth, and the inhabitants thereof, [but] there are many worlds that have passed away by the word of my power[, a]nd there are many that now stand."[39] Another part of Smith's translation portrays the biblical character Enoch as stating that if there were "millions of earths like this [earth]

 

Spirit intelligences and God's spirit children
It is believed there were pre-existing "spirit intelligences" that existed before the God the Father and Heavenly Mother created spiritual bodies for them: "self-existing intelligences were organized into individual spirit beings"[59] by the Heavenly Parents and they became the "begotten sons and daughters of God".[60] The procreative process whereby the intelligences became spirits has not been explained. While spirit bodies are composed of matter, they are described as being "more fine or pure" than regular matter

A separate issue - but I will forget if I don't put it down somewhere

According to Mormon scripture, "the elements are eternal".[52] This means, according to Smith, that the elements are co-existent with God, and "they may be organized and reorganized, but not destroyed. They had not beginning, and can have no end."[53] This principle was elaborated on by Brigham Young, who said, "God never made something out of nothing; it is not in the economy or law of which the worlds were, are, or will exist."[54] Thus, Mormons deny ex nihilo creation and instead believe that God created or "organized" the universe out of pre-existing elements

 

Dhammananda

From Insight LA

Dhammananda....

In 2019, the BBC named her one of the 100 most influential women in the world because of her tireless work to re-establish the Theravada female monastic lineage in Asia and initiate positive changes for women in Thai society. She faced intense opposition and discrimination, “How did I surmount these problems? Through understanding and compassion. Those who suppress women (or anyone) do so out of ignorance. I am fighting ignorance, not people…Spiritual maturity is very helpful to strengthen you and see you through difficult times. When you have blossomed from pain to peacefulness on your spiritual path, you can really help nourish others you meet. To ease the pain of the world, you need to be nurturing and mothering.” 

From:Lion's Roar

Dhammananda Bhikkhuni, the first fully ordained Theravada nun in Thailand, received novice ordination on February 6, 2001. She couldn’t be ordained in her native country, where there were approximately 300,000 male monks and no ordained women. Instead, she had to travel to Sri Lanka, where the bhikkhuni lineage had been reinstated just three years before, after having died out for almost a thousand years.

Indra's Net and Subtle Anatomy

 I have become curious about Indra's net, due to the work of a woman named Desda Zuckerman.  She see's the sublte anatomy a bit differently than is often found in traditional sources.

To summarize her work in a few lines, she sees a core running from top to bottom, and channel running 90 degrees and going through the center of the core (like a cross) as the base of each being/structure, from humans to planets.  

She says in her book Your Sacred Anatomy: An Owners Guide to the Human Energy Structure

"I believe Indra’s Net is an early description of the grand cross and that in it the threads are our channel and core making the Human Energy Structure the crystal bead that reflects all things."

She teaches a class call "The Edge" which delves much further into the very complex subtle anatomy.  In this class she teaches a way to ground our grounding cord into our sacred structure itself, as opposed to grounding into the earth.

I read a vast variety of beliefs, not purporting anything to be true or not. One of the books that was recommended to me was called Voyagers..which, as far as I have read so far, talks about extraterrestrial involvement with our planet, and some of the players and agendas in the story.

When I read

The desired result of this manipulation is to sever the actual energetic connection of the individual to the personal Soul Matrix and reconnect the individual to a “group mind” network existing within another dimensional structure

I thought about Desda's work.  This because, from my understanding of what she teaches, Indra's net is from "Source" and is the formation of all beings as she sees them.

 

When I looked up Indra's net on Wikipedia, I found this description

According to Rajiv Malhotra, the earliest reference to a net belonging to Indra is in the Atharva Veda (c. 1000 BCE).[11] Verse 8.8.6. says:

Vast indeed is the tactical net of great Indra, mighty of action and tempestuous of great speed. By that net, O Indra, pounce upon all the enemies so that none of the enemies may escape the arrest and punishment.

The net was one of the weapons of the sky-god Indra, used to snare and entangle enemies. The net also signifies magic or illusion. According to Teun Goudriaan, Indra is conceived in the Rig Veda as a great magician, tricking his enemies with their own weapons, thereby continuing human life and prosperity on earth.

This post is a question really...
What is Indra's net
What is this net that Desda sees?

As some one who has used Desda's methods, what is it I ground into if I only ground into my own subtle anatomy, that is floating on this net?

About Meditation Notes

These are just notes from a Compassion Cultivation Training (CCT) class about meditation that seem interesting.

I was taught transcendental meditation at the age of 4, and have continued exploring meditation throughout my life.   I have experienced a vast spectrum of experiences during meditation, as well as a plethora of different techniques and theories as to what meditation means, it's purpose, reasons, and potential results.

These notes remind me that meditation can mean so many things...

From: Meditation; It's not What You Think

...meditation is actually a process—one of investigating your own mind and changing the way you relate to your thoughts.

 

... What’s easily confused is that the instructions for meditation are in fact not the goal of meditation.  In other words, while we aim to maintain focus on the breath, the goal is really to learn about our minds.... With practice, we begin to realize that thoughts and emotions that naturally arise will also naturally pass away. We realize they don’t always need to be acted upon, and that they aren’t as “real” as they seem.

... Cognitive models are also beginning to be put forth about how meditation works psychologically, an important step for framing future research that will give us a clearer map of the mind. And moving beyond the psychological, researchers are seeking to clarify how cognitive and neural changes brought about through meditation can extend to our physical bodies...

... What science is proving time and again is that with intention and diligent practice, you can literally change your brain.

This understanding has been a revolution for neuroscientists and psychologists who thought for decades that the brain was fairly “fixed” after late adolescence....

 

Studies examining brain structure have found that meditation is associated with increased gray matter density, increased cortical thickness, and increased integrity of connections between brain regions important for cognitive control. Recent work shows that the more hours someone has meditated, the more cortical folding of the insula—an area important for autonomic, emotional, and cognitive integration. 

From: Meditation: Exercise for Your Mind

“If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.” —Amit Ray

From: Meditation Makes Us Act with Compassion

Meditation teaches us not to get hijacked by worry, or to try to impose tyrannical control over our thoughts and feelings.

A List of Vows Attributed to the Dalai Lama - spoken of by Pamela Ayo Yetunde

From: The Dalai Lama Global Vision Summit: The Power of CompassionPresented by Lion’s Roar and Tibet House USSession: Pamela Ayo Yetunde – Talk

"may I become at all times, both now and forever, a
protector for those without protection, a guide for those who have lost their
way, a ship for those with oceans to cross, a bridge for those with rivers to
cross, a sanctuary for those in danger, a lamp for those without light. A place of
refuge for those who lack shelter and a servant to all in need."

Again, this list of vows is attributed to the Dalai Lama. And so is this quote. If I
have any understanding of compassion and the practice of the bodhisattva
path, it is entirely on the basis of this text that I presented. The text he is
referring to is The Way of the Bodhisattva, by Shantdieva. And I'll return to this
text later.

So I hang the banner at the gateway to my dwelling as a commitment to
provide a hospitable and healing place where I live to whomever enters.

Science Water

 “The Only Way Cellular Life Could Leave the Ocean Was to Take the Ocean With It” — Rene Quinton

You Are Already Enlightened by Guo Gu

You Are Already Enlightened
BY GUO GU| JUNE 12, 2020
[Re-posted from Lion's Roar]

Guo Gu, a longtime student of the late Master Sheng Yen, presents an experiential look at the Chan practice of silent illumination.
Silent illumination is a Buddhist practice that can be traced back not only to Huineng (638–713), the sixth patriarch of Chan, and other Chinese masters but also to the early teachings of the Buddha. In the Chan tradition, silent illumination is referred to as mozhao, from the Chinese characters mo (silent) and zhao (illumination). It’s a term that was first used by a critic of the practice, Dahui Zonggao (1089–1163), an advocate of the method of “observing critical phrase” (huatou in Chinese; wato in Japanese). Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091–1157), the Chinese master most often associated with the practice of silent illumination, liked the term and adopted it.

In the West, silent illumination is usually presented through the lens of Soto Zen practice as shikantaza, a term coined by Dogen Zenji to describe the embodiment of awakening. However, shikantaza is not a distinct category of practice, and while it is a part of silent illumination, it cannot encompass it.

Silent illumination is the simultaneous practice of stillness and clarity, or quiescence and luminosity. It is similar to the practice of shamatha and vipashyana, as long as we don’t consider these sequential to each other, first practicing shamatha and then practicing vipashyana. In silence there is illumination; in stillness, clarity is ever present.

We Are Already Enlightened
The Chan tradition does not usually refer to steps or stages. Its central teaching is that we are intrinsically awake; our mind is originally without abiding, fixations, and vexations, and its nature is without divisions and stages. This is the basis of the Chan view of sudden enlightenment. If our mind’s nature were not already free, that would imply we could become enlightened only after we practiced, which is not so. If it’s possible to gain enlightenment, then it’s possible to lose it as well.

Consider a room, which is naturally spacious. However we organize the furniture in the room will not affect its intrinsic spaciousness. We can put up walls to divide the room, but they are temporary. And whether we leave the room clean or cluttered and messy, it won’t affect its natural spaciousness. Mind is also intrinsically spacious. Although we can get caught up in our desires and aversions, our true nature is not affected by those vexations. We are inherently free.

In the Chan tradition, therefore, practice is not about producing enlightenment. You might wonder, “Then what am I doing here, practic­ing?” Because practice does help clean up the “furniture” in the “room.” By not attaching to your thoughts, you remove the furniture, so to speak. And once your mind is clean, instead of fixating on the chairs, tables, and so on, you see its spaciousness. Then you can let the furniture be or rearrange it any way you want—not for yourself, but for the benefit of others in the room.

The Teachings of Master Sheng Yen
The ultimate way to practice silent illumina­tion is to sit without dependence on your eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind. You sit with­out abiding anywhere, fabricating anything, or falling into a stupor. You neither enter into meditative absorption nor give rise to scattered thoughts. In this very moment, mind just is— wakeful and still, clear and without delusion. However, for many practitioners, such a stan­dard can prove too high.

My teacher, Master Sheng Yen, first intro­duced this way of practicing silent illumination in the 1970s. His students liked the method very much, but no one was able to practice it—they just couldn’t get a handle on it, so the method fell into obscurity. In the early 1990s, through trial and error, Sheng Yen began to break down the practice into stages. He spent a decade teaching and exploring silent illumination with his stu­dents during seven- and ten-day intensive retreats in both the West and Taiwan. I translated many of Hongzhi’s teachings on silent illumination to accompany Sheng Yen’s commentaries, which are now published in several books. The latest and most representative of his teachings on silent illu­mination, The Method of No-Method: The Chan Practice of Silent Illumination, was published in 2008. Master Sheng Yen died soon afterward, in February 2009.

As Master Sheng Yen’s personal attendant monk, I was one of his first students to begin following his method of silent illumination as my main practice. He would often use me as a guinea pig: I would report to him whatever state or experience I was going through as I went deeper into the practice. I practiced silent illumination under his guidance for about sixteen years, until I began using the huatou or gong’an (koan in Japanese) method.

The stages of silent illumination as taught by Sheng Yen are not set in stone. They are a means to an end and signposts. It’s important to have a teacher to guide you, as each individual will have a different response to this method, grow­ing according to his or her own spiritual capacity and karmic disposition.

Three Stages of Silent Illumination
The practice of silent illumination taught by Master Sheng Yen can roughly be divided into three stages: concentrated mind, unified mind, and no-mind. Within each stage are infinite depths. You need not go through all the stages, nor are they necessarily sequential.

CONCENTRATED MIND
The first stage of practice is learning to sit in an uncontrived way, not trying to get this or get rid of that. You just sit with clarity and simplicity in the moment. In Chinese, this is called zhiguan dazuo, which means “just mind yourself sitting.”

To just sit is to be aware that you are sitting. When you’re sitting, can you feel the presence of your whole body—its posture, weight, and other sensations? “Just sitting” means, at the very least, you know clearly that the whole body is there. It doesn’t mean minding any particular part of your body—just your legs, arms, or pos­ture—or feeling every sensation of the body. The idea is to be aware of the general totality of your sitting experience. The body is sitting; you know this. This means your mind is sitting, too. So the body and mind are together as you’re sitting. If you don’t know you’re sitting, then you’re not following the method.

This method is subtle; it’s not like counting breaths from one to ten, which is very concrete. But that doesn’t mean there is nothing to do. There is definitely something to do: Sit!

When you mind your sit­ting, your body and mind are naturally together. You don’t watch the body or imagine it, as if you’re looking in from the outside, which is some kind of mental construct.
This method does not involve contemplating, observing thoughts, or continually scanning the body. Instead, it involves minding the act of sit­ting, staying with that reality from moment to moment to moment. When you mind your sit­ting, your body and mind are naturally together. You don’t watch the body or imagine it, as if you’re looking in from the outside, which is some kind of mental construct.

When you practice single-mindedly and intensely, with no gaps, for half an hour, your body might become drenched in sweat. But this traditional, tense way of practicing the method is not suitable for most present-day practitio­ners because so many are already stressed out in daily life. (Another limitation of the tense way is that it cannot be sustained for a long period of time, half an hour to an hour at most.) So it’s generally advisable to practice the method in a relaxed way, while continuing to be fully aware that you’re sitting.

Getting to know and learning to relax your body can free you from habitual tendencies and negative emotions. You may notice that when wandering thoughts arise, some parts of your body tense up. The same is true for deep-seated emotions, which are lodged in particular places of the body. Often, people live their lives in such a way that their bodies and minds are split; they do one thing with their bodies while their minds are elsewhere. Practicing this first stage helps body and mind be more unified.

When you are wakeful and clear in each moment and not caught up with wandering thoughts, they subside of their own accord. They subside because your discriminating mind, which is tied to self-grasping, lessens. Your discrimi­nating mind lessens because you’re aware of the totality of the body as you are sitting. Without wandering thoughts, you are not grasping at this and that, nor attracted to or repulsed by particu­lar sensations. The concentration developed in the first stage of silent illumination is not a one-pointed focus of mind but an open, natural, and clear presence. It is concentration accompanied by wisdom.

UNIFIED MIND
When your discriminating mind diminishes, your narrow sense of self diminishes as well. Your field of awareness—which is at first the totality of the body—naturally opens up to include the external environment. Inside and outside become one. In the beginning, you may still notice that a sound is coming from a certain direction or that your mind follows distinct events within the envi­ronment, such as someone moving. But as you continue, these distinctions fade. You are aware of events around you, but they do not leave traces. You no longer feel that the environment is out there and you are in here. The environ­ment poses no opposition or burden. It just is. If you are sitting, then the environment is you, sitting. If you have left your seat and are walk­ing about, then the environment is still you, in all of your actions. This experience, the second stage of silent illumination, is called the oneness of self and others.

Can you still hear sounds? Yes. Can you get up to have a drink of water or urinate? Of course. Is there mentation? Yes. You have thoughts as you need them to respond to the world, but they are not self-referential. Compassion naturally arises when it is needed; it has nothing to do with emotion. There is an intimacy with everything around you that is beyond words and descrip­tions. When you urinate, the body, urine, and toilet are not separate. Indeed, you all have a wonderful dialogue!

In this stage, you see clearly what needs to be done. You see how to respond, but without any reference point or opposition. If you hear a bird, you are a bird. When you interact with a person, your mind is not stirred. You see things as one; they are part of you, and you are part of them. It’s not that you think, “They are part of me and I’m really big! I include the whole world!” Nor is it that you dissolve into the external environ­ment, not knowing who you are anymore. It is just that the sense of self-reference is diminished and the burdens of normal vexations have tem­porarily vanished.

There are progressively deeper states of this second stage. When you enter a state in which the environment is you sitting, the environment may become infinite and boundless, bringing about a state of oneness with the universe. The whole world is your body sitting there. Time passes quickly and space is limitless. You are not caught up in the particulars of the environ­ment. There is just openness of mind, clarity, and a sense of the infinite. This is not yet the realiza­tion of no-self; it is the experience of great self.

At this point, three subtler experiences may occur, all related to the sense of great self. The first is infinite light. The light is you, and you experience a sense of oneness, infinity, and clarity.

The second experience is infinite sound. This is not the sound of cars, dogs, or something simi­lar. Nor is it like music or anything else you have ever heard. It is a primordial, elemental sound that is one with the experience of vastness. It is harmonious in all places, without reference or attribution.

The third experience is voidness. But this is not the emptiness of self-nature or of no-self that would constitute enlightenment. This is a spacious voidness in which there is nothing but the pure vastness of space. Although you do not experience a sense of self, a subtle form of self and object still exists.

These progressively deeper states are all related to samadhi states. When you emerge from them, you must try not to think about them anymore because they are quite alluring. Say to yourself, “This state is ordinary; it’s not it.” Otherwise, it will lead to another form of attachment.

You might be in the initial phase of the second stage of silent illumination for a few minutes or a few months. During this time, nothing obstructs you—when you are sitting, you feel the environ­ment is you, sitting; when you are walking about, you feel connected with the environment. In the later phase of the second stage, you may even think you are enlightened because the deeper levels of oneness are so profound. Practitioners sometimes think they have suddenly become smarter or understood all the scriptures.

All these states of clarity are wonderful; they give you a strong conviction in the usefulness of buddhadharma and the possibility of a state free from vexations. However, they still do not repre­sent the clarity of the third stage—the realization of silent illumination. Become attached to any of these states and you will be further from them. All of them must be let go.

NO-SELF, NO-MIND
The clarity of the second stage is like looking through a spotless window. You can see through it very well, almost as if the window were not there, but it is there. In the second stage, the self lies dormant but subtle self-grasping is present. In other words, seeing through a window, even a very clean one, is not the same as seeing through no window at all. Seeing through no window is one way of describing the state of enlighten­ment, which is the third stage. In utter clarity, the mind is unmoving. Why? Because there is no self-referential mind.

By practicing in this way, our life gradually becomes completely integrated with wisdom and compassion, and even traces of “enlighten­ment” vanish. We are able to offer ourselves to everyone, like a lighthouse, helping all those who come our way, responding to their needs with­out contrivance.
The third stage of silent illumination is the realization of quiescence and wakefulness, still­ness and awareness, samadhi and prajna, all of which are different ways to describe mind’s natural state. Experiencing it for the first time is like suddenly dropping a thousand pounds from your shoulders—the heavy burdens of self-attachment, vexations, and habitual tendencies. Prior to that, you may not know exactly what self-attachment or vexations are. But once you are free from them, you clearly recognize them.

Self-attachment, vexations, and habitual ten­dencies run deep. So practitioners must work hard to experience enlightenment again and again until they can simply rest in mind’s natural state. The key is to practice diligently but seek no results.

By practicing in this way, our life gradually becomes completely integrated with wisdom and compassion, and even traces of “enlighten­ment” vanish. We are able to offer ourselves to everyone, like a lighthouse, helping all those who come our way, responding to their needs with­out contrivance. This is the perfection of silent illumination.

You might ask, “I’ve been practicing for ten years now—exactly when is this going to hap­pen to me?” The difference between delusion and enlightenment is only a moment away. In an instant, you can be free from the constructs of your identity and see through the veil of your fabrications.

Remember that practice is much more than following a particular method or going through stages on a path. Practice is life and all of its “furniture.” Practice helps us see the room and not attach to the furniture. Enlightenment is not something special—it is the natural freedom of this moment, here and now, unstained by our fabrications.

From What are You? by Imelda Octavia Shankin

 What are you Spiritually?

....

"if you accept some metaphysical teachings, you will answer the questions by saying that you are divine perfection.  the statement requires amplification, for it is true only of the impersonal.  You must keep the terms accurate. The personal has not reached perfection. If it were perfect, there would be no need of your trying to improve it; no need for so much as the affirmation of perfection  Body, conduct, situation would conform to the absolute standard. "

Kuan Yin and Compassion

From Lion's Roar

She Who Hears the Cries of the World
BY CHRISTINA FELDMAN| MAY 12, 2020

"Chinese - Seated Guanyin (Kuan-yin) Bodhisattva - Walters 25256 (2)" - Walters Art Museum. Licensed under Public domain via Public domain.
In Buddhist iconography, compassion is embodied in the bodhisattva Kuan Yin, who is said to manifest wherever beings need help. Engendering such compassion is not only good for others, says Christina Feldman, it is also good for us. By putting others first, we loosen the bonds of our self-fixation, and in doing so, inch closer to our own liberation.

Compassion is no stranger to any of us: we know what it feels like to be deeply moved by the pain and suffering of others. All people receive their own measure of sorrow and struggle in this life. Bodies age, health becomes fragile, minds can be beset by confusion and obsession, hearts are  broken. We see many people asked to bear the unbearable—starvation, tragedy, and hardship beyond our imagining. Our loved ones experience illness, pain, and heartache, and we long to ease their burden.

The human story is a story of love, redemption, kindness, and generosity. It is also a story of violence, division, neglect, and cruelty. Faced with all of this, we can soften, reach out, and do all we can to ease suffering. Or we can choose to live with fear and denial—doing all we can to guard our hearts from being touched, afraid of drowning in this ocean of sorrow.

Again and again we are asked to learn one of life’s clearest lessons: that to run from suffering—to harden our hearts, to turn away from pain—is to deny life and to live in fear. So, as difficult as it is to open our hearts toward suffering, doing so is the most direct path to transformation and liberation.

To discover an awakened heart within ourselves, it is crucial not to idealize or romanticize compassion. Our compassion simply grows out of our willingness to meet pain rather than to flee from it.
Compassion and wisdom are at the heart of the path of the Buddha. In the early Buddhist stories we find young men and women asking the same questions we ask today: How can we respond to the suffering that is woven into the very fabric of life? How can we discover a heart that is truly liberated from fear, anger, and alienation? Is there a way to discover a depth of wisdom and compassion that can genuinely make a difference in this confused and destructive world?

We may be tempted to see compassion as a feeling, an emotional response we occasionally experience when we are touched by an encounter with acute pain. In these moments of openness, the layers of our defenses crumble; intuitively we feel an immediacy of response and we glimpse the power of nonseparation. Milarepa, a great Tibetan sage, expressed this when he said, “Just as I instinctively reach out to touch and heal a wound in my leg as part of my own body, so too I reach out to touch and heal the pain in another as part of this body.” Too often these moments of profound compassion fade, and once more we find ourselves protecting, defending, and distancing ourselves from pain. Yet they are powerful glimpses that encourage us to question whether compassion can be something more than an accident we stumble across.

No matter how hard we try, we can’t make ourselves feel compassionate. But we can incline our hearts toward compassion. In one of the stories in the early Buddhist literature, the ascetic Sumedha reflects on the vast inner journey required to discover unshakeable wisdom and compassion. He describes compassion as a tapestry woven of many threads: generosity, virtue, renunciation, wisdom, energy, patience, truthfulness, determination, loving-kindness, and equanimity. When we embody all of these in our lives, we develop the kind of compassion that has the power to heal suffering.

A few years ago, an elderly monk arrived in India after fleeing from prison in Tibet. Meeting with the Dalai Lama, he recounted the years he had been imprisoned, the hardship and beatings he had endured, the hunger and loneliness he had lived with, and the torture he had faced.

At one point the Dalai Lama asked him, “Was there ever a time you felt your life was truly in danger?”

The old monk answered, “In truth, the only time I truly felt at risk was when I felt in danger of losing compassion for my jailers.”

Hearing stories like this, we are often left feeling skeptical and bewildered. We may be tempted to idealize both those who are compassionate and the quality of compassion itself. We imagine these people as saints, possessed of powers inaccessible to us. Yet stories of great suffering are often stories of ordinary people who have found greatness of heart. To discover an awakened heart within ourselves, it is crucial not to idealize or romanticize compassion. Our compassion simply grows out of our willingness to meet pain rather than to flee from it.

We may never find ourselves in situations of such peril that our lives are endangered; yet anguish and pain are undeniable aspects of our lives. None of us can build walls around our hearts that are invulnerable to being breached by life. Facing the sorrow we meet in this life, we have a choice: Our hearts can close, our minds recoil, our bodies contract, and we can experience the heart that lives in a state of painful refusal. We can also dive deeply within ourselves to nurture the courage, balance, patience, and wisdom that enable us to care.

If we do so, we will find that compassion is not a state. It is a way of engaging with the fragile and unpredictable world. Its domain is not only the world of those you love and care for, but equally the world of those who threaten us, disturb us, and cause us harm. It is the world of the countless beings we never meet who are facing an unendurable life. The ultimate journey of a human being is to discover how much our hearts can encompass. Our capacity to cause suffering as well as to heal suffering live side by side within us. If we choose to develop the capacity to heal, which is the challenge of every human life, we will find our hearts can encompass a great deal, and we can learn to heal—rather than increase—the schisms that divide us from one another.

In the first century in northern India, probably in what is now part of Afghanistan, the Lotus Sutra was composed. One of the most powerful texts in the Buddhist tradition, it is a celebration of the liberated heart expressing itself in a powerful and boundless compassion, pervading all corners of the universe, relieving suffering wherever it finds it.

When the Lotus Sutra was translated into Chinese, Kuan Yin, the “one who hears the cries of the world,” emerged as an embodiment of compassion that has occupied a central place in Buddhist teaching and practice ever since. Over the centuries Kuan Yin has been portrayed in a variety of forms. At times she is depicted as a feminine presence, face serene, arms outstretched, and eyes open. At times she holds a willow branch, symbolizing her resilience—able to bend in the face of the most fierce storms without being broken. At other times she is portrayed with a thousand arms and hands, each with an open eye in its center, depicting her constant awareness of anguish and her all-embracing responsiveness. Sometimes she takes the form of a warrior armed with a multitude of weapons, embodying the fierce aspect of compassion committed to uprooting the causes of suffering. A protector and guardian, she is fully engaged with life.

True compassion is not forged at a distance from pain but in its fires.
To cultivate the willingness to listen deeply to sorrow wherever we meet it is to take the first step on the journey of compassion. Our capacity to listen follows on the heels of this willingness. We may make heroic efforts in our lives to shield ourselves from the anguish that can surround us and live within us, but in truth a life of avoidance and defense is one of anxiety and painful separation.

True compassion is not forged at a distance from pain but in its fires. We do not always have a solution for suffering. We cannot always fix pain. However, we can find the commitment to stay connected and to listen deeply. Compassion does not always demand heroic acts or great words. In the times of darkest distress, what is most deeply needed is the fearless presence of a person who can be wholeheartedly receptive.

It can seem to us that being aware and opening our hearts to sorrow makes us suffer more. It is true that awareness brings with it an increased sensitivity to our inner and outer worlds. Awareness opens our hearts and minds to a world of pain and distress that previously only glanced off the surface of consciousness, like a stone skipping across water. But awareness also teaches us to read between the lines and to see beneath the world of appearances. We begin to sense the loneliness, need, and fear in others that was previously invisible. Beneath words of anger, blame, and agitation we hear the fragility of another person’s heart. Awareness deepens because we hear more acutely the cries of the world. Each of those cries has written within it the plea to be received.

Awareness is born of intimacy. We can only fear and hate what we do not understand and what we perceive from a distance. We can only find compassion and freedom in intimacy. We can be afraid of intimacy with pain because we are afraid of helplessness; we fear that we don’t have the inner balance to embrace suffering without being overwhelmed. Yet each time we find the willingness to meet affliction, we discover we are not powerless. Awareness rescues us from helplessness, teaching us to be helpful through our kindness, patience, resilience, and courage. Awareness is the forerunner of understanding, and understanding is the prerequisite to bringing suffering to an end.

Shantideva, a deeply compassionate master who taught in India in the eighth century, said, “Whatever you are doing, be aware of the state of your mind. Accomplish good; this is the path of compassion.” How would our life be if we carried this commitment into all of our encounters? What if we asked ourselves what it is we are dedicated to when we meet a homeless person on the street, a child in tears, a person we have long struggled with, or someone who disappoints us? We cannot always change the heart or the life of another person, but we can always take care of the state of our own mind. Can we let go of our resistance, judgments, and fear? Can we listen wholeheartedly to understand another person’s world? Can we find the courage to remain present when we want to flee? Can we equally find the compassion to forgive our wish to disconnect? Compassion is a journey. Every step, every moment of cultivation, is a gesture of deep wisdom.

Living in Asia for several years, I encountered an endless stream of people begging in the streets. Faced with a forlorn, gaunt child I would find myself judging a society that couldn’t care for its deprived children. Sometimes I would feel irritated, perhaps dropping a few coins into the child’s hand while ensuring I kept my distance from him. I would debate with myself whether I was just perpetuating the culture of begging by responding to the child’s pleas. It took me a long time to understand that, as much as the coins may have been appreciated, they were secondary to the fact that I rarely connected to the child.

As the etymology of the word indicates, “compassion” is the ability to “feel with,” and that involves a leap of empathy and a willingness to go beyond the borders of our own experience and judgments. What would it mean to place myself in the heart of that begging child? What would it be like to never know if I will eat today, depending entirely on the handouts of strangers? Journeying beyond our familiar borders, our hearts can tremble; then, we have the possibility of accomplishing good.

Milarepa once said, “Long accustomed to contemplating compassion, I have forgotten all difference between self and other.” Genuine compassion is without boundaries or hierarchies. The smallest sorrow is as worthy of compassion as the greatest anguish. The heartache we experience in the face of betrayal asks as much for compassion as a person caught in the midst of tragedy. Those we love and those we disdain ask for compassion; those who are blameless and those who cause suffering are all enfolded in the tapestry of compassion. An old Zen monk once proclaimed, “O, that my monk’s robes were wide enough to gather up all of the suffering in this floating world.” Compassion is the liberated heart’s response to pain wherever it is met.

When we see those we love in pain, our compassion is instinctive. Our heart can be broken. It can also be broken open. We are most sorely tested when we are faced with a loved one’s pain that we cannot fix. We reach out to shield those we love from harm, but life continues to teach us that our power has limits. Wisdom tells us that to insist that impermanence and frailty should not touch those we love is to fall into the near enemy of compassion, which is attachment to result and the insistence that life must be other than it actually is.

Compassion means offering a refuge to those who have no refuge. The refuge is born of our willingness to bear what at times feels unbearable—to see a loved one suffer. The letting go of our insistence that those we love should not suffer is not a relinquishment of love but a release of illusion—the illusion that love can protect anyone from life’s natural rhythms. In the face of a loved one’s pain, we are asked to understand what it means to be steadfast and patient in the midst of our own fear. In our most intimate relationships, love and fear grow simultaneously. A compassionate heart knows this to be true and does not demand that fear disappear. It knows that only in the midst of fear can we begin to discover the fearlessness of compassion.

Some people, carrying long histories of a lack of self-worth or denial, find it most difficult to extend compassion toward themselves. Aware of the vastness of suffering in the world, they may feel it is self-indulgent to care for their aching body, their broken heart, or their confused mind. Yet this too is suffering, and genuine compassion makes no distinction between self and other. If we do not know how to embrace our own frailties and imperfections, how do we imagine we could find room in our heart for anyone else?

The Buddha once said that you could search the whole world and not find anyone more deserving of your love and compassion than yourself. Instead, too many people find themselves directing levels of harshness, demand, and judgment inward that they would never dream of directing toward another person, knowing the harm that would be incurred. They are willing to do to themselves what they would not do to others.

Anger can be the beginning of abandonment or the beginning of commitment to helping others.
In the pursuit of an idealized compassion, many people can neglect themselves. Compassion “listens to the cries of the world,” and we are part of that world. The path of compassion does not ask us to abandon ourselves on the altar of an idealized state of perfection. A path of healing makes no distinctions: within the sorrow of our own frustrations, disappointments, fears, and bitterness, we learn the lessons of patience, acceptance, generosity, and ultimately, compassion.

The deepest compassion is nurtured in the midst of the deepest suffering. Faced with the struggle of those we love or those who are blameless in this world, compassion arises instinctively. Faced with people who inflict pain upon others, we must dive deep within ourselves to find the steadfastness and understanding that enables us to remain open. Connecting with those who perpetrate harm is hard practice, yet compassion is somewhat shallow if it turns away those who—lost in ignorance, rage, and fear—harm others. The mountain of suffering in the world can never be lessened by adding yet more bitterness, resentment, rage, and blame to it.

Thich Nhat Hanh, the beloved Vietnamese teacher, said, “Anger and hatred are the materials from which hell is made.” It is not that the compassionate heart will never feel anger. Faced with the terrible injustice, oppression, and violence in our world, our hearts tremble not only with compassion but also with anger. A person without anger may be a person who has not been deeply touched by harmful acts that scar the lives of too many people. Anger can be the beginning of abandonment or the beginning of commitment to helping others.

We can be startled into wakefulness by exposure to suffering, and this wakefulness can become part of the fabric of our own rage, or part of the fabric of wise and compassionate action. If we align ourselves with hatred, we equally align ourselves with the perpetrators of harm. We can also align ourselves with a commitment to bringing to an end the causes of suffering. It is easy to forget the portrayal of Kuan Yin as an armed warrior, profoundly dedicated to protecting all beings, fearless and resolved to bring suffering to an end.

Rarely are words and acts of healing and reconciliation born of an agitated heart. One of the great arts in the cultivation of compassion is to ask if we can embrace anger without blame. Blame agitates our hearts, keeps them contracted, and ultimately leads to despair. To surrender blame is to maintain the discriminating wisdom that knows clearly what suffering is and what causes it. To surrender blame is to surrender the separation that makes compassion impossible.

Compassion is not a magical device that can instantly dispel all suffering. The path of compassion is altruistic but not idealistic. Walking this path we are not asked to lay down our life, find a solution for all of the struggles in this world, or immediately rescue all beings. We are asked to explore how we may transform our own hearts and minds in the moment. Can we understand the transparency of division and separation? Can we liberate our hearts from ill will, fear, and cruelty? Can we find the steadfastness, patience, generosity, and commitment not to abandon anyone or anything in this world? Can we learn how to listen deeply and discover the heart that trembles in the face of suffering?

The path of compassion is cultivated one step and one moment at a time. Each of those steps lessens the mountain of sorrow in the world.

Ultimate and Parts

 

 

An Elephant is an Elephant

 

Tree, Rope, Wall, Fan, Spear, Snake.... Sensory Experience.

What of Heart, bone, muscle, then consciousness, what of all the cells, those of the elephant and all else within, atoms, electrons, space, then magnetism, and so much else... and things we may know nothing of?

So the Ultimate reason for our existence.

Many ponder this, and some give answers.  

These answers, might they be correct for their time and place and experience in the moments of their grokking the ultimate?

It seem possible. It is also seems possible that the ultimate perceived only a second away in time could have the exact opposite, or any infinite variation, and also be correct.

Buddhist Concepts

 

“Develop a mind that is vast like space, where experiences both pleasant and unpleasant can appear and disappear without conflict, struggle or harm. Rest in a mind like vast sky.”

Buddha

To Serve

For some reason, my mind jumped to the thought of man possibly becoming obsolete...

To Serve...what function does many have upon the earth?
for Brevity, there are people such as Sitchen who point to "gods" from other worlds coming to earth and creating humanity.

The biblical traditions all have us serving "God"

Man has been creating tools, machines and computers to serve him for millennia.

And then I think of AI - people creating machines that they literally are making in humanity's image, along with all of the human qualities including emotion and the ideas of right and wrong...

This is far to in depth of a subject to explore here...

What are the major reasons for our existence, the existence of any being?

If we are here to serve, and there are better ways to serve whatever it is that holds this reality that humanity exists in, with humanity failing to do this.. 

Might humanity be repurposed, or might humanity become extinct?

What Life is "Supposed to Be"

This question probably has as many answers as there are consciousnesses in existence.  Life for any one consciousness is different than for any other.

Even two atoms of air occupy different spaces, or as waves have variously differing vibrations and spaces in which they are operating.

And yet, atoms come together as molecules, and though these slight differences persist, there are also similarities in function.

moving up to humanity...we are inundated with so much information guiding our consciousness as to what life is "supposed to be"....

And yet, the reality of our private lives rarely matches this supposedly idealistic goal. Nor do even our desires.  

We are inundated with so much information...is there even enough time in a day to manifest the world programs that seems to be fighting for and enlisting as many as possible to produce the goals of these vast social agendas masquerading as personal ideals?

Philosophy - The Diamond Approach - Individuality as Memories

Memories Compose the Sense of Oneself as a Separate Individual
The sense of oneself as a separate individual, which as we have seen depends upon the development of a cohesive self-image, can be seen as composed of memories and, in fact, cannot exist without its connection to memories, to personal history. But the memory of a person is not the same as a person. The memory is of something that supposedly existed at some point in the past.

Pearl Beyond Price, pg. 27 - The Diamond Approach

Philosophy - Neville Goddard

In the very end, you are going to find Who-You-Are; and when you find Him, you are the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Lord Jesus Christ is the Lord God Jehovah. And then will come that inevitable moment when that end is reached that you take off the garment, and you are one with Eternity; and all those who preceded you are not greater than you because they have preceded you. No, -- you are all the same, -- the Brotherhood. And that one brotherhood forms the one God and Father of all.  

...

So don’t condone anyone. Leave them alone. When they are suffering, let your heart go out to them and express mercy, for you’ve gone through it. Or else, you will go through it, for not one will come out until he is perfect, as his Father is perfect. And the Father had to go through every experience of man to be perfect. And you are going to go through, or you have gone through -- I dare say you have gone through; that’s why you are here -- all the experiences of humanity. And in the end, you are God the Father

-Neville Goddard - Consigned to Disobedience, April 23, 1971

If I  told you at this very moment that you  are not altogether sitting in the place where you seem to be before my eyes, --- you are an infinite being, -- but how to describe it? How to tell you that at this very moment, while you seem to be all put together and collected in a thought and listening to me, that you are not all here?  It doesn't make sense. Yet I tell you that your are not.  You are an Infinite Being.

-Neville Goddard 

 

In the very end, you are going to find Who-You-Are;... And then will come that inevitable moment when that end is reached that you take off the garment, and you are one with Eternity; and all those who preceded you are not greater than you because they have preceded you. No, -- you are all the same...

-Neville Goddard - Consigned to Disobedience

 

Philosophy - Hume

from: David Hume -The School of Life Articles | Formerly The Book of Life

Hume’s philosophy is built around a single powerful observation: that the key thing we need to get right in life is feeling rather than rationality. It sounds like an odd conclusion. Normally we assume that what we need to do is train our minds to be as rational as possible: to be devoted to evidence and logical reasoning and committed to preventing our feelings from getting in the way. 

But Hume insisted that, whatever we may aim for, ‘reason is the slave of passion.’ We are more motivated by our feelings than by any of the comparatively feeble results of analysis and logic.

...for Hume, a human is just another kind of animal.

We find an idea nice or threatening and on that basis alone declare it true or false. Reason only comes in later to support the original attitude.  

...he firmly believed in the education of the passions. People have to learn to be more benevolent, more patient, more at ease with themselves and less afraid of others. But to be taught these things, they need an education system that addresses feelings rather than reason.

“When I enter most intimately into what I call myself,” he famously explained, “I always stumble on some particular perception or other... I never can catch myself at any time without a perception, and never can observe anything but the perception.” Hume concluded that we aren’t really the neat definable people reason tells us that we are and that we seem to be when we look at ourselves in the mirror or casually use the grand misleading word I, we are “nothing but a bundle or collection of different perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and movement.”

The test of a belief isn’t its provable truth, but its utility.

He argued that morality isn’t about having moral ideas, it’s about having been trained, from an early age, in the art of decency through the emotions. Being good means getting into good habits of feeling.

Philoshopy - Sarte

from: Jean-Paul Sartre -The School of Life Articles | Formerly The Book of Life

 Sartre is acutely attentive to moments when the world reveals itself as far stranger and more uncanny than we normally admit; moments when the logic we ascribe to it day-to-day becomes unavailable, showing things to be highly contingent and even absurd and frightening.

To be Sartrean is to be aware of existence as it is when it has been stripped of any of the prejudices and stabilising assumptions lent to us by our day-to-day routines. 

Everything is (terrifyingly) possible because nothing has any pre-ordained, God-given sense or purpose. Humans are just making it up as they go along, and are free to cast aside the shackles at any moment. 

...we are fully alive and properly aware of reality, with its freedom, its possibilities and its weighty choices.

Science Tesla

 

Forget about Perfection - Article about Enlightened Action and Acceptance, Where We Find Ourselves.

You’re Ready Enough
by Pema Khandro Rinpoche| April 30, 2021

Wherever you find yourself, says Pema Khandro, that’s the starting point of the bodhisattva path—all you need to do is take that first step.

Once upon a time, many aeons before he took birth as a prince, Shakyamuni was an ordinary being born into a hot hell realm, where he was forced to pull a chariot through the fires. Distressed over the struggles of his feeble companion, great compassion welled up in the future Buddha’s heart. This, it is said, was the first time bodhichitta dawned in his mind, and it marked the beginning of his lives-long journey toward ultimate awakening—the compassion that arose while he was in hell.

This rather astonishing story exemplifies when and how we must generate motivation for the benefit of others. We’re more familiar with the Buddha’s later life story: he was handsome, intelligent, wealthy, privileged, skilled in sports, and highly educated. Of course, such an ideal person, a buddha, should and could help others. But the Jataka tales of the Buddha’s past lives inform us that such an ideal life was not where he began. Indeed, it is always the case that our highest aspirations must be launched from right in the midst of our afflictions, wherever we happen to find ourselves in this life stream—even if it is in hell.

What gives a hell being the right to help others? Every Tibetan Buddhist practice includes the bodhisattva vow to work for the benefit of others. However, the tradition is also full of assertions that we cannot benefit others unless we are wise and enlightened, lest our good intentions be misguided. So when, exactly, are we wise enough to help others? We all want to be better versions of ourselves, but when are we “better enough” to step up and act on a bodhisattva’s heroic intent?

The mind-set of samsara is that we can only be happy if we are someone other than our present self. Someday, somewhere, somehow—different. Oh, the things we would do if we were smarter, richer, thinner, if we had more knowledge or better opportunities. This is the clinging to a self that generates dukkha, or pervasive unsatisfactoriness. Dukkha often manifests in negative self-images and accompanying fantasies of a better me. Buddhism, by offering an alternate focal point, can shift our primary focus from this futile pursuit of our ideal selves. Instead of trying to be perfect, we focus on purifying our underlying motivations so that we can wake up, show up, and act with enlightened intention—right here, right now, just as we are.
Every great Buddhist practitioner ever, in the history of Buddhism, knew their limitations and acted for the benefit of beings anyway.

Being mesmerized by limited self-concepts presents the biggest obstacle to altruistic action. Every great Buddhist practitioner ever, in the history of Buddhism, knew their limitations and acted for the benefit of beings anyway. It’s because of their lack of hesitation that we can receive the dharma today. Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche gives voice to this in his autobiography, Brilliant Moon:

Hands of wisdom and love that rescue me from the precipice of samsara and nirvana;
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Lord of the hundred families, outstanding among the buddhas;

Precious master, glorious chief of the sea of refuges;

I shall constantly serve you within the ocean of my zeal…

He follows this with sober, even severe, reflections on his limitations:

In my case, the dung heap of my defects makes Mount Meru look small, and even though I was able to grow a tiny sprout of the appearance of holy qualities, it could not survive but has withered into a yellowish green and is now on the verge of drying up…while polluting the winds with the stench of my karma and emotions, aware of my flaws without hiding them from myself….

If the great master Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche felt he had a “dung heap” of defects, what does this say about ordinary people like you and me? And how could someone who felt so awed have spent his entire life helping others, serving buddhadharma, and so beautifully reflecting our highest potential?

Here we see one of the marks of a good Buddhist practitioner: aware of our limitations, we are not paralyzed by honest self-reflection. Driven by motivations stronger than any limited self-concept, we are able to transcend our perceived limitations in order to act for the greater good. Easier said than done—after all, the voices demanding perfection are not just inside our heads. They are everywhere in our culture today. They come from outside and inside.

I, too, have fallen prey to such internal dialogues—good teacher/bad teacher, good Buddhist/bad Buddhist. In this suffocating atmosphere of habitual self-grasping, a battle between our good and bad self-images wages on endlessly, draining whatever vital energy, whatever rlungta, might otherwise infuse us with the experience of being fully alive.
"Connect" by Antony Gromley, 1998. Carbon and casein on paper. 30 X 23 cm.

“Connect” by Antony Gormley, 1998.
Carbon and casein on paper. 30 X 23 cm.

Underlying this inner critic, behind the veil of rampant insecurity, we find self-absorption. If we aim to ground our lives in a concrete sense of “self,” before long we find ourselves drowning in a whirlpool of dualistic concepts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard successful, prominent people tell me that they live in fear that others will find out who they “really” are. And students, after gaining some kind of worldly success, will tell me that they’re suffering from the feeling of not deserving it, fearing that they will lose what they’ve worked so hard to gain.

In the West, we tend to dismiss this as an issue of self-worth, low self-esteem, or, more recently, “impostor syndrome”—but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The real problem is believing in the existence of a worthy or unworthy self in the first place. Worthy/unworthy or perfect/imperfect are equally false narratives. From the Buddhist point of view, there is no worthy or unworthy self. Instead, something else is taking place—the pervasive presence of bodhichitta as our intrinsic goodness, our natural propensity for compassionate action.

At first, Buddhist teachings on no-self sound destabilizing. How can we develop confidence without building up a strong ego? Actually, the nonself principle skillfully disarms all our self- concepts, turning us away from the actual source of our suffering. This doesn’t have to lead to nihilism, but it could, hence Dzogchen’s emphasis on positive frameworks such as identifying with our buddhanature or resting into presence of awareness. We are directed instead to a deeper force within us that is more trustworthy and more powerful than mere concepts of self.
Imbued with presence, we can show up and help our world.

To reliably locate that deeper force, we must deliberately cultivate bodhichitta: an enlightened mind-set, the wish to realize awakening in order to be of greatest benefit to all beings. In Tibetan it is called chang chub sem, the mind of enlightenment held by an “awakened mind warrior.” This powerful idea annihilates the dualism between being and doing. Being and doing can be united. When we act from the depths of being, the actions themselves arise organically from our ultimate nature. Imbued with presence, we can show up and help our world.

The life story of Yeshe Tsogyal, the female buddha of Tibet, offers an extraordinary example of this process. Her progress toward the highest realization is described in terms of her blossoming capacity to help others; when she transcends anger, she gains the capacity to work for others “in seven universes of the ten directions.” This capacity expands even further when she transcends grasping and eliminates the habitual tendencies of her mind stream. In the same way, each time we transcend a mind poison, we become available for a greater purpose.

We tend to think that there is a large divide between the great Buddhist masters and our own minds. But throughout Yeshe Tsogyal’s life story, even her identity continually alternates between a highly realized buddha and an ordinary being experiencing the problems of the world. In one scene, she proclaims herself Vajradhara personified, the primordial Buddha. And yet at that same stage in her development, she also says that she is a timid woman with scant ability and serious doubts that she has what it takes to accomplish the path.

The Dzogchen teachings Yeshe Tsogyal mastered reveal that each of us possesses this same beginningless buddhanature. It is hidden from us by the mind-set that clings so tightly to self-concepts. How this plays out may be hard to predict. What does it mean to be a buddha and confused in one and the same body?

What we see in the female buddha’s life story is that the path to buddhahood is not a perfect linear progression from a totally ignorant, karma-covered being to a fully awakened buddha. One’s identity oscillates along the way. What does not oscillate in Yeshe Tsogyal’s story, what remains constant throughout her training, maturity, and fully blossomed buddhahood, is that at all times she acts unwaveringly with the motivation to benefit others. This clarifies any questions about how an ordinary being can navigate the ambiguity of wisdom and confusion that characterizes our mental states. Our center of gravity and our guiding light is bodhichitta, our own altruistic motivation and enlightened intent.

“May all beings everywhere be free from suffering”—this is not just a pie-in-the-sky wish that this will happen eventually. It is an explicit assumption of universal responsibility, a declaration that we ourselves will actively help make such benefits possible—beginning with taking responsibility for our own spiritual awakening. But who among us feels worthy of helping other beings right now? Of course Buddha could help people—he was enlightened. Of course Yeshe Tsogyal can help infinite beings—she’s gone beyond anger and grasping. But what about us? At what point in our development does the bodhisattva mandate kick in?

It’s easy to think that the bodhisattva vow is a practice for people more highly realized than ourselves. It may even seem that Buddhism has a mixed message on this point: on one hand, we’re told in no uncertain terms that we absolutely must become enlightened if we’re to have the discriminating wisdom that allows us to effectively help others; on the other hand, we must act now. We’ve been born into a world that is in dire need of our help.

The fact is, we’re taking some form of action all the time. Since we can’t avoid action, since we’re committed to right action, and since even our thoughts have consequences, we’re compelled to consider the benefits—or detriments—to others from all our actions and omissions. This basic ethic underpins all Buddhist engagement with the world.

It is tempting, in considering the bodhisattva vow, to envision a time when we will enjoy better circumstances in our lives, when the vow will be easier to fulfill. But the extreme examples in Buddhism gently remind us to bring altruistic intent to whatever circumstance befalls us. Yeshe Tsogyal was kidnapped, beaten, mugged, molested, demonized, poisoned by a rival, exiled twice, and even raped. It is hard to imagine more difficult circumstances for practicing the dharma.
When enlightened intent is relentless and unwavering, that is when the profound basis of the mind reveals itself to us in all its radiant glory.

What qualifies Yeshe Tsogyal to act is not her circumstances but rather her allegiance to pure motivations. Through all her travails, she never stops working for the benefit of beings—including her tormentors. Paradoxically, intense hardship is transformed into an accelerant on the path of awakening. The message of her extreme circumstances is this: when enlightened intent is relentless and unwavering, that is when the profound basis of the mind reveals itself to us in all its radiant glory.
"Untitled" by Antony Gromely, 1983. Black pigment, linseed oil and charcoal on paper. 64.3cm x 90.2cm

“Untitled” by Antony Gormley, 1983.
Black pigment, linseed oil and charcoal on paper. 64.3cm x 90.2cm

So what are we sleeping buddhas to do? Act with enlightened intent. Check our motives. Always act from bodhichitta. Keep the bodhisattva vow close to our heart—at all times, and in all situations. Then we can have some confidence, some peace of mind, in everything we do. The day-to-day discipline and commitment to practice for every one of us, lamas and beginners alike, is to do our best to help others. We enlist our lives in the service of relieving suffering and bringing awakening into our world—even though we are sometimes good self, sometimes bad self, sometimes in the lucid reality of no-self, and at still other times confused and suffering with our own problems.

What does not waiver is our guiding principle: enlightened intent. Acting on enlightened intent is a revelatory practice because it tunes us into what we really are. To abide in the heart of reality is to recognize that we are emptiness, we are lucid presence, and we are great compassion. In that heart is our essence, which is not other than Buddha nor different from Yeshe Tsogyal’s heart essence. We are that presence, emptiness, and compassion.

In this moment, in this circumstance, which choice will strengthen your bodhichitta? Which choice will express your heartfelt wish for the benefit of yourself and all others? Which choice will advance the joy of beings and their relief from suffering? Maybe right now it sounds a bit grandiose for us to work for the benefit of all beings. But if we aim as high as our sights allow, then the aspiration itself will be fulfilling. We will find contentment in the clarity and energy of our enlightened intention itself.
When we act on bodhichitta, we connect with our true nature—and with all of nature as well.

If we idealize buddhahood as some idealized notion of self that is forever beyond our grasp, then what exactly are we advancing toward in this life? What is there in our present situation that we can rely upon with confidence? In Dzogchen, we learn that our true nature is bodhichitta. When we act on bodhichitta, we connect with our true nature—and with all of nature as well. We touch the earth, ego recedes, boundaries dissolve, and buddhanature manifests through our activities. no more dukkha. This is mahasukkha, the great sweetness of life.

If we become even partially aware of our buddhanature, if we are convinced that buddha mind permeates our very being, then we no longer enjoy the luxury of waiting for our perfect self to arrive before helping others. We must be willing to do our best just as we are, wherever we find ourselves on this path of awakening. Our world needs us now. Other beings need our best efforts. The purpose of our life is to wake up, show up, and heed the call.

Can you hear it?

The Original Teachings of the Buddha and What do We Have Now?

This post is only an exploration. It came after I did a retreat with one of the main Insight Meditation centers in the US.  There were a few things said by the teachers that made me realize 1. that they did not even follow the first 5 vows 2. That other organizations were changing the vows in a way that completely distorted the original vows into something else and 3. That at least one of the teachers had an attitude of powerlessness for many things that they were not, in fact powerlessness against. 

The teachings were still very powerful, but when these changes are added into the original teachings, it seems possible to me that they water down the original teachings, or worse yet, add new concepts like helplessness into their students lives. Furthermore, if the students go on to share their experience, or especially teach, they further spread the misinformation and practices. They may as well make changes, eventually leading to a philosophy much changed from the original.

This post below is from the Vipassana Research Institute
This group is definitely different from the one I mention above.
Though I have done the Vipassana Research Institute's introductory 10 day retreat which was meditation for at least 5 hours a day, in sits of one hour each, I had not continued with these practices. And interestingly, once one has gone to other practices, they do not allow a return to their retreats. So I know very little about this particular group and their teachings.  I am grateful for the internet for the information available! The meditation retreat was quite simple in what was taught, purely observation, vipassana. It was quite powerful!

Chaṭṭha Saṅgāyana
The Six Dhamma Councils

The authentic teachings of Gotama the Buddha have been preserved and handed down to us and are to be found in the Tipiṭaka. The Pāli word, Tipiṭaka', literally means `the three baskets' (ti=three + piṭaka=collections of scriptures). All of the Buddha's teachings were divided into three parts.

1.The first part is known as the Vinaya Piṭaka and it contains all the rules which Buddha laid down for monks and nuns.
2.The second part is called the Suttaṅta Piṭaka and it contains the Discourses.
3.The third part is known as the Abhidhamma Piṭaka and comprises the psycho-ethical teachings of the Buddha.

It is known, that whenever the Buddha gave a discourse to his ordained disciples or lay-followers or prescribed a monastic rule in the course of his forty-five year ministry, those of his devoted and learned monks, then present would immediately commit his teachings word for word to memory. Thus the Buddha's words were preserved accurately and were in due course passed down orally from teacher to pupil. Some of the monks who had heard the Buddha preach in person were Arahants, and so by definition, `pure ones' free from passion, ill-will and delusion and therefore, was without doubt capable of retaining, perfectly the Buddha's words. Thus they ensured that the Buddha's teachings would be preserved faithfully for posterity.

Even those devoted monks who had not yet attained Arahantahood but had reached the first three stages of sainthood and had powerful, retentive memories could also call to mind word for word what the Buddha had preached and so could be worthy custodians of the Buddha's teachings. One such monk was Ānanda, the chosen attendant and constant companion of the Buddha during the last twenty-five years of the his life. Ānanda was highly intelligent and gifted with the ability to remember whatever he had heard. Indeed, it was his express wish that the Buddha always relate all of his discourses to him and although he was not yet an Arahanta he deliberately committed to memory word for word all the Buddha's sermons with which he exhorted monks, nuns and his lay followers. The combined efforts of these gifted and devoted monks made it possible for the Dhamma and Vinaya, as taught by the Buddha to be preserved in its original state.

The Pāli Tipiṭaka and its allied literature exists as a result of the Buddha's discovery of the noble and liberating path of the pure Dhamma. This path enables all those who follow it to lead a peaceful and happy life. Indeed, in this day and age we are fortunate to have the authentic teachings of the Buddha preserved for future generations through the conscientious and concerted efforts of his ordained disciples down through the ages. The Buddha had said to his disciples that when he was no longer amongst them, that it was essential that the Saṅgha should come together for the purpose of collectively reciting the Dhamma, precisely as he had taught it. In compliance with this instruction the first Elders duly called a council and systematically ordered all the Buddha's discourses and monastic rules and then faithfully recited them word for word in concert.

The teachings contained in the Tipiṭaka are also known as the Doctrine of the Elders [Theravāda]. These discourses number several hundred and have always been recited word for word ever since the First Council was convened. Subsequently, more Councils have been called for a number of reasons but at every one of them the entire body of the Buddha's teaching has always been recited by the Saṅgha participants, in concert and word for word. The first council took place three months after the Buddha's attainment of Mahāparinibbāṇa and was followed by five more, two of which were convened in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. These collective recitations which were performed by the monks at all these Dhamma Councils are known as the `Dhamma Saṅgītis', the Dhamma Recitations. They are so designated because of the precedent set at the First Dhamma Council, when all the Teachings were recited first by an Elder of the Saṅgha and then chanted once again in chorus by all of the monks attending the assembly. The recitation was judged to have been authentic, when and only when, it had been approved unanimously by the members of the Council. What follows is a brief history of the Six Councils.

The First Council

King Ajātasattu sponsored the First Council. It was convened in 544 B.C. in the Sattapaāāī Cave situated outside Rājagaha three months after the Buddha had passed away. A detailed account of this historic meeting can be found in the Cūllavagga of the Vinaya Piṭaka. According to this record the incident which prompted the Elder Mahākassapa to call this meeting was his hearing a disparaging remark about the strict rule of life for monks. This is what happened. The monk Subhadda, a former barber, who had ordained late in life, upon hearing that the Buddha had expired, voiced his resentment at having to abide by all the rules for monks laid down by the Buddha. Many monks lamented the passing of the Buddha and were deeply grieved. However, the Elder Mahākassapa heard Subhadda say: ``Enough your Reverences, do not grieve, do not lament. We are well rid of this great recluse (the Buddha). We were tormented when he said, `this is allowable to you, this is not allowable to you' but now we will be able to do as we like and we will not have to do what we do not like''. Mahākassapa was alarmed by his remark and feared that the Dhamma and the Vinaya might be corrupted and not survive intact if other monks were to behave like Subhadda and interpret the Dhamma and the Vinaya rules as they pleased. To avoid this he decided that the Dhamma must be preserved and protected. To this end after gaining the Saṅgha's approval he called to council five hundred Arahants. Ānanda was to be included in this provided he attained Arahanthood by the time the council convened. With the Elder Mahākassapa presiding, the five-hundred Arahant monks met in council during the rainy season. The first thing Mahākassapa did was to question the foremost expert on the Vinaya of the day, Venerable Upāli on particulars of the monastic rule. This monk was well qualified for the task as the Buddha had taught him the whole of the Vinaya himself. First of all the Elder Mahākassapa asked him specifically about the ruling on the first offense [pārājika], with regard to the subject, the occasion, the individual introduced, the proclamation, the repetition of the proclamation, the offense and the case of non-offense. Upāli gave knowledgeable and adequate answers and his remarks met with the unanimous approval of the presiding Saṅgha. Thus the Vinaya was formally approved.

The Elder Mahākassapa then turned his attention to Ānanda in virtue of his reputable expertise in all matters connected with the Dhamma. Happily, the night before the Council was to meet, Ānanda had attained Arahantship and joined the Council. The Elder Mahākassapa, therefore, was able to question him at length with complete confidence about the Dhamma with specific reference to the Buddha's sermons. This interrogation on the Dhamma sought to verify the place where all the discourses were first preached and the person to whom they had been addressed. Ānanda, aided by his word-perfect memory was able to answer accurately and so the Discourses met with the unanimous approval of the Saṅgha. The First Council also gave its official seal of approval for the closure of the chapter on the minor and lesser rules, and approval for their observance. It took the monks seven months to recite the whole of the Vinaya and the Dhamma and those monks sufficiently endowed with good memories retained all that had been recited. This historic first council came to be known as the Paācasatika because five-hundred fully enlightened Arahants had taken part in it.

The Second Council

The Second Council was called one hundred years after the Buddha's Parinibbāṇa in order to settle a serious dispute over the `ten points'. This is a reference to some monks breaking of ten minor rules. they were given to:

    1. Storing salt in a horn.
    2. Eating after midday.
    3. Eating once and then going again to a village for alms.
    4. Holding the Uposatha Ceremony with monks dwelling in the same locality.
    5. Carrying out official acts when the assembly was incomplete.
    6. Following a certain practice because it was done by one's tutor or teacher.
    7. Eating sour milk after one had his midday meal.
    8. Consuming strong drink before it had been fermented.
    9. Using a rug which was not the proper size.
    10. Using gold and silver.

Their misdeeds became an issue and caused a major controversy as breaking these rules was thought to contradict the Buddha's original teachings. King Kāḷāsoka was the Second Council's patron and the meeting took place at Vesāli due to the following circumstances. One day, whilst visiting the Mahāvana Grove at Veāsli, the Elder Yasa came to know that a large group of monks known as the Vajjians were infringing the rule which prohibited monk's accepting gold and silver by openly asking for it from their lay devotees. He immediately criticized their behavior and their response was to offer him a share of their illegal gains in the hope that he would be won over. The Elder Yasa, however declined and scorned their behavior. The monks immediately sued him with a formal action of reconciliation, accusing him of having blamed their lay devotees. The Elder Yasa accordingly reconciled himself with the lay devotees, but at the same time, convinced them that the Vijjian monks had done wrong by quoting the Buddha's pronouncement on the prohibition against accepting or soliciting for gold and silver. The laymen immediately expressed their support for the Elder Yasa and declared the Vajjian monks to the wrong-doers and heretics, saying ``the Elder Yasa alone is the real monk and Sākyan son. All the others are not monks, not Sākyan sons''.

The Stubborn and unrepentant Vajjian monks then moved to suspend the Venerable Yasa Thera without the approval of the rest of the Saṅgha when they came to know of the outcome of his meeting with their lay devotees. The Elder Yasa, however escaped their censure and went in search of support from monks elsewhere, who upheld his orthodox views on the Vinaya. Sixty forest dwelling monks from Pāvā and eighty monks from the southern regions of Avanti who were of the same view, offered to help him to check the corruption of the Vinaya. Together they decided to go to Soreyya to consult the Venerable Revata as he was a highly revered monk and an expert in the Dhamma and the Vinaya. As soon as the Vajjian monks came to know this they also sought the Venerable Revata's support by offering him the four requisites which he promptly refused. These monks then sought to use the same means to win over the Venerable Revata's attendant, the Venerable Uttara. At first he too, rightly declined their offer but they craftily persuaded him to accept their offer, saying that when the requisites meant for the Buddha were not accepted by him, Ānanda would be asked to accept them and would often agree to do so. Uttara changed his mind and accepted the requisites. Urged on by them he then agreed to go and persuade the Venerable Revata to declare that the Vajjian monks were indeed speakers of the Truth and upholders of the Dhamma. The Venerable Revata saw through their ruse and refused to support them. He then dismissed Uttara. In order to settle the matter once and for all, the Venerable Revata advised that a council should be called at Vāḷikārāma with himself asking questions on the ten offenses of the most senior of the Elders of the day, the Thera Sabbjakāmi. Once his opinion was given it was to be heard by a committee of eight monks, and its validity decided by their vote. The eight monks called to judge the matter were the Venerables Sabbakāmi, saḷha, Khujjasobhita and Vāsabhagāmika, from the East and four monks from the West, the Venerables Revata, Sambhuta-Sāṇavāsī, Yasa and Sumana. They thoroughly debated the matter with Revata as the questioner and sabbakāmī answering his questions. After the debate was heard the eight monks decided against the Vajjian monks and their verdict was announced to the assembly. Afterwards seven-hundred monks recited the Dhamma and Vinaya and this recital came to be known as the Sattasatī because seven-hundred monks had taken part in it. This historic council is also called, the Yasatthera Sangīti because of the major role the Elder Yasa played in it and his zeal for safeguarding the Vinaya. The Vajjian monks categorically refused to accept the Council's decision and in defiance called a council of there own which was called the Mahāsaṅgiti.

The Third Council

The Third Council was held primarily to rid the Saṅgha of corruption and bogus monks who held heretical views. The Council was convened in 326 B.C. At Asokārāma in Paṭaliputta under the patronage of Emperor Asoka. It was presided over by the Elder Moggaliputta Tissa and one thousand monks participated in this Council. Tradition has it that Asoka had won his throne through shedding the blood of all his father's son's save his own brother, Tissa Kumāra who eventually got ordained and achieved Arahantship.

Asoka was crowned in the two hundred and eighteenth year after the Buddha's Mahaparinibbāna. At first he paid only token homage to the Dhamma and the Saṅgha and also supported members of other religious sects as his father had done before him. However, all this changed when he met the pious novice-monk Nigrodha who preached him the Appamāda-vagga. Thereafter he ceased supporting other religious groups and his interest in and devotion to the Dhamma deepened. He used his enormous wealth to build, it is said, eighty-four thousand pagodas and vihāras and to lavishly support the Bhikkhus with the four requisites. His son Mahinda and his daughter Saṅghamittā were ordained and admitted to the Saṅgha. Eventually, his generosity was to cause serious problems within the Saṅgha. In time the order was infiltrated by many unworthy men, holding heretical views and who were attracted to the order because of the Emperor's generous support and costly offerings of food, clothing, shelter and medicine. Large numbers of faithless, greedy men espousing wrong views tried to join the order but were deemed unfit for ordination. Despite this they seized the chance to exploit the Emperor's generosity for their own ends and donned robes and joined the order without having been ordained properly. Consequently, respect for the Saṅgha diminished. When this came to light some of the genuine monks refused to hold the prescribed purification or Uposatha ceremony in the company of the corrupt, heretical monks.

When the Emperor heard about this he sought to rectify the situation and dispatched one of his ministers to the monks with the command that they perform the ceremony. However, the Emperor had given the minister no specific orders as to what means were to be used to carry out his command. The monks refused to obey and hold the ceremony in the company of their false and `thieving' companions [theyyasinivāsaka]. In desperation the angry minister advanced down the line of seated monks and drawing his sword, beheaded all of them one after the other until he came to the King's brother, Tissa who had been ordained. The horrified minister stopped the slaughter and fled the hall and reported back to the Emperor Asoka was deeply grieved and upset by what had happened and blamed himself for the killings. He sought Thera Moggaliputta Tissa's counsel. He proposed that the heretical monks be expelled from the order and a third Council be convened immediately. So it was that in the seventeenth year of the Emperor's reign the Third Council was called. Thera Moggaliputta Tissa headed the proceedings and chose one thousand monks from the sixty thousand participants for the traditional recitation of the Dhamma and the Vinaya, which went on for nine months. The Emperor, himself questioned monks from a number of monasteries about the teachings of the Buddha. Those who held wrong views were exposed and expelled from the Saṅgha immediately. In this way the Bhikkhu Saṅgha was purged of heretics and bogus bhikkhus.

This council achieved a number of other important things as well. The Elder Moggaliputta Tissa, in order to refute a number of heresies and ensure the Dhamma was kept pure, complied a book during the council called the Kathāvatthu. This book consists of twenty-three chapters, and is a collection of discussion (kathā) and refutations of the heretical views held by various sects on matters philosophical. It is the fifth of the seven books of the Abhidhamma Piṭaka. The members of the Council also gave a royal seal of approval to the doctrine of the Buddha, naming it the Vibhajjavāda, the Doctrine of Analysis. It is identical with the approved Theravāda doctrine. One of the most significant achievements of this Dhamma assembly and one which was to bear fruit for centuries to come, was the Emperor's sending forth of monks, well versed in the Buddha's Dhamma and Vinaya who could recite all of it by heart, to teach it in nine different countries. These Dhammadūta monks included the Venerable Majjhantika Thera who went to Kashmir and Gandhāra. He was asked to preach the Dhamma and establish an order of monks there. The Venerable Mahādeva was sent to Mahinsakamaṇḍaḷa (modern Mysore) and the Venerable Rakkhita Thera was dispatched to Vanavāsī (northern Kanara in the south of India.) The Venerable Yonaka Dhammarakkhita Thera was sent to Upper Aparantaka (northern Gujarat, Kathiawar, Kutch and Sindh].

The Venerable Mahārakkhita Thera went to Yonaka-loka (the land of the lonians, Bactrians and the Greeks.) The Venerable Majjhima Thera went to Himavanta (the place adjoining the Himalayas.) The Venerable Soṇa and the Venerable Uttara were sent to Suvaṇṇabhūmi [now Myanmar]. The Venerable Mahinda Thera, The Venerable Ittiya Thera, the Venerable Uttiya Thera, the Venerable Sambala Thera and the Venerable Bhaddasāla Thera were sent to Tambapaṇṇi (now Sri Lanka). The Dhamma missions of these monks succeeded and bore great fruits in the course of time and went a long way in ennobling the peoples of these lands with the gift of the Dhamma and influencing their civilizations and cultures.

With the spread of Dhamma through the words of the Buddha, in due course India came to be known as Visvaguru, the teacher of the world.

The Fourth Council

The Fourth Council was held in Tambapaṇṇi [Sri Lanka] in 29 B.C. under the patronage of King Vaṭṭagāmaṇi. The main reason for its convening was the realization that is was now not possible for the majority of monks to retain the entire Tipiṭaka in their memories as had been the case formerly for the Venerable Mahinda and those who followed him soon after. Therefore, as the art of writing had, by this time developed substantially, it was thought expedient and necessary to have the entire body of the Buddha's teaching written down. King Vaṭṭagāmaṇi supported the monk's idea and a council was held specifically to reduce the Tipiṭaka in its entirety to writing. Therefore, so that the genuine Dhamma might be lastingly preserved, the Venerable Mahārakhita and five hundred monks recited the words of the Buddha and then wrote them down on palm leaves. This remarkable project took place in a cave called, the Āloka lena, situated in the cleft of an ancient landslip near what is now Matale. Thus the aim of the Council was achieved and the preservation in writing of the authentic Dhamma was ensured. Later, in the Eighteenth Century, King Vijayarājasīha had images of the Buddha created in this cave.

The Fifth Council

The Fifth Council took place in Māndalay, Burma now known as Myanmar in 1871 A.D. in the reign of King Mindon. The chief objective of this meeting was to recite all the teachings of the Buddha and examine them in minute detail to see if any of them had been altered, distorted or dropped. It was presided over by three Elders, the Venerable Mahāthera Jāgarābhivaṃsa, the Venerable Narindābhidhaja, and the Venerable Mahāthera Sumaṅgalasāmi in the company of some two thousand four hundred monks (2,400). Their joint Dhamma recitation lasted for five months. It was also the work of this council to cause the entire Tipiṭaka to be inscribed for posterity on seven hundred and twenty-nine marble slabs in the Myanmar script after its recitation had been completed and unanimously approved. This monumental task was done by some two thousand four hundred erudite monks and many skilled craftsmen who upon completion of each slab had them housed in beautiful miniature `piṭaka' pagodas on a special site in the grounds of King Mindon's Kuthodaw Pagoda at the foot of Māndalay Hill where this so called `largest book in the world', stands to this day.

The Sixth Council

The Sixth Council was called at Kaba Aye in Yangon, formerly Rangoon in 1954, eighty-three years after the fifth one was held in Mandalay. It was sponsored by the Burmese Government led by the Prime Minister, the Honorable U Nu. He authorized the construction of the Mahā Pāsāna Gūhā, the great cave that was built from the ground up, to serve as the gathering place much like India's Sattapānni Cave--the site of the first Dhamma Council. Upon its completion, the Council met on the 17th of May, 1954. As in the case of the preceding councils, its first objective was to affirm and preserve the genuine Dhamma and Vinaya. However it was unique in so far as the monks who took part in it came from eight countries. These two thousand five hundred learned Theravāda monks came from Myanmar, Cambodia, India, Laos, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Thailand and Vietnam. The late Venerable Mahāsi Sayadaw was appointed the noble task of asking the required questions about the Dhamma of the Venerable Bhadanta Vicittasārābhivaṃsa Tipiṭakadhara Dhammabhaṇḍāgārika who answered all of them learnedly and satisfactorily. By the time this council met, all the participating countries had the Pāli Tipiṭaka rendered into their native scripts, with the exception of India.

The traditional recitation of the Dhamma Scriptures took two years during which the Tipiṭaka and its allied literature in all the scripts were painstakingly examined. Any differences found were noted down, the necessary corrections were made and all the versions were then collated. Happily, it was found that there was not much difference in the content of any of the texts. Finally, after the Council had officially approved them, all the volumes of the Tipiṭaka and their Commentaries were prepared for printing on modern presses and published in the Myanmar (Burmese) script. This notable achievement was made possible through the dedicated efforts of the two thousand five hundred monks and numerous lay people. Their work came to an end in May, 1956, two and a half millennia after the Lord attained Parinibbāna. This council's work was the unique achievement of representatives from the entire Buddhist world. The version of the Tipiṭaka which it undertook to produce has been recognized as being true to the pristine teachings of Gotama the Buddha and the most authoritative rendering of them to date.

The volumes printed after the Sixth Saṅgāyana were printed in Myanmar script. In order to make the volumes to the people of India, Vipassana Research Institute started the project to print the Tipiṭaka with its Aṭṭhakathās and ṭikas in Devanagari in the year 1990.

This Chaṭṭha Saṅgāyana CD-ROM which is a reproduction of the text authenticated in the Sixth Saṅgāyana is now being presented to the world so that the words of the Buddha are easily made available to the devotees and the scholars. The Chaṭṭha Saṅgāyana CD-ROM can presently be viewed in the following scripts Devanagari, Myanmar and Roman.,  Sri Lankan, Thai and Mongol scripts.

May All beings be happy