Equality is Reality
Imperfection is a Product of The Mind
The highest view of Buddhism takes courage to accept
When people think of religion, they often assume that religious people believe in a god and act according to that god’s law.
They assume that in doing so, practitioners believe they can be born in some lovely place called heaven — a place that looks like the Hard Rock Cafe but it’s set outdoors on a giant lawn — a place where virgins continuously top up your Tom Collins and massage your perineum while feeding you the stinkiest cheese and finest quince paste.
That all sounds very nice, and according to Buddhism, places like that exist.
Perhaps not precisely like that. But still, places of extreme material happiness are known as god realms.
But the gods in this context are seen as material beings and these realms are not considered an end product but as another relative opportunity to create the causes of suffering (Samsara).
It’s very simplistic to think that heaven and hell can’t exist.
Basic logic tells us that if our world exists, anything can exist, including the most extreme of realities.
But following any comparative religion can you lead you on a wild goose chase where the goal is a more prosperous worldly existence.
And when people first learn about Buddhism, they can find its introductory talk about annihilation and non-existence quite off-putting. In the traditional texts, there is a lot of talk of getting off the wheel of suffering and escaping the pain of existence.
That can lead people to think that the goal of Buddhism is oblivion.
And then, perhaps you read my article about how the first teaching of the Buddha is that happiness is not possible, and you thought, well, that’s fucking depressing.
Thinking the first noble truth is depressing comes from thinking the pursuit of happiness is the framework within which life takes place. It’s not surprising that we think happiness is the meaning of life because our whole system on earth is built around that premise.
But rather than seeking out material happiness for the individual, Buddhism seeks to highlight the nature of things — the truth.
And that illumination, according to the masters, brings about vipassana or insight — an understanding of the two truths — relative and absolute. Or, to put it another way,
Things appear, but they don’t exist.
Millions of people loved watching the Starks get slaughtered at the Red Wedding in Game of Thrones (Sorry to bring that up and condolences Kristen Stark).
But look at what the viewers enjoyed — extreme violence, grief, betrayal. These are all objects that we greatly fear in our own lives, so why do we appreciate their dramatisation?
The one fundamental difference is that Game of Thrones is not real.
We know that they are all actors pretending to suffer.
We know there is a director, and they sit and drink coffee between scenes and at the end, they all go home to their families or lonely apartments.
Still, when the scene is happening, we allow ourselves to be engrossed by it. We allow ourselves to feel the emotions and the pain, but it doesn’t flatten us because we know it’s non-existence and we can escape to that at any time by switching it off.
It appears, but it doesn’t exist.
Yet, in our very own lives, we are convinced that there is something real about what is happening to us. There is no escape. And, if anyone mentions that nothing exists, we default to the terrifying thought of oblivion, which causes us stress so we hang on tighter to the concept of reality.
But these ideas of meditation-induced oblivion are nothing but poppycock
Our understanding is incorrect.
According to Buddhism, the highest truth is that existence and non-existence are inseparable. They are the same. And yes, it’s paradoxical. But, paradox is a human word. We are taught to believe that there is something wrong with paradoxes. There isn’t.
Some things are just beyond the limits of human language and logic.
And by the way, why does everything have to have a fucking explanation?
Try describing chocolate to someone who has never tasted it. Our language is very limited.
Form is emptiness. Emptiness is form.
In other words, form is a play of emptiness, and emptiness is the basis of our own minds.
Quince paste is luminous mind. Stinking cat shit is luminous mind.
At the relative level, they are different. At the absolute level, they are identical.
Everything is identical.
That cult leader who feeds poison to their followers is an awakened Buddha.
That tramp pissing themselves on the street is an awakened Buddha.
That’s why it’s hard to accept. That’s why we need to practice the methods. Because taking yourself there intellectually can make you act like a mad person in society’s eyes.
But realising it truly, your understanding remains a secret, and you keep enjoying acting like the genuinely mad people of society.
It’s like wearing Calvin Klein underwear under your K-Mart trackie pants. It’s your dirty little, blissful, wonderful secret.
Still, it’s hard to get yer head around, and it’s questionable whether you should try because intellectual understanding can only take you so far.
You can understand intellectually that
- You are already in heaven
- You have always been in heaven
- You always will be in heaven
- There is no alternative to heaven
But it is not going to get you very far unless you have the methods to help you actualise that truth for yourself.
Those methods are what is known as Buddhism.
When you remove the central character — that hair’s breadth of misunderstanding we call ego, you might find that nothing has changed whatsoever, yet everything has changed.
You are no longer living in the nightmare of existence
You are living in your luminous playground of love.
The only thing that has changed is that your perception has been washed like a fucking filthy windscreen by one of those crackhead window washers at the intersection.
And now you can see properly.
Adults are so serious.
But children and Awakened beings play the game.
The game of impurity.
The game of suffering.
The game of existence.
The endless dream of a perfectly pure Buddha.
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