Last week, I introduced the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, which I described as being less like religious edicts and more like core, basic assumptions about the nature of human existence.
To recap:
Suffering is a feature of the human experience due to the impermanence of all existence and the tendency of our five bodily senses to clinging.
Suffering is caused by craving or attachment.
Suffering ceases when we're free from craving.
The Eightfold Noble Path is the way to cease suffering.
One of the major points I drew from the First and Second Noble Truths was that suffering, when understood through this lens, can be seen as a feature—and not a bug—of human existence. But it's important not to stop there. This is how Buddhism gets a bad rap for being nihilistic and depressing.
Suffering can be seen as a feature—and not a bug—of human existence, but it's important not to stop there. This is how Buddhism gets a bad rap for being nihilistic and depressing.
The Third and Fourth Noble Truths go on to say that, even though suffering is natural and, in many ways, inevitable, it is also escapable. The catch, of course, is that in order to free ourselves from suffering, we first have to suffer. It's only through suffering that we can know it well enough to transcend it.
That is the overall trajectory of the Four Noble Truths. First, they define suffering and where it comes from. Then, with that understanding established, they identify that it's possible to transcend suffering. And finally, they tell you the method by which to do so.
Psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Victor Frankl didn't use these exact words of “transcending suffering,” but he explored this same potential in humans to do more than just suffer, even under the most extreme conditions. In his seminal book, Man's Search for Meaning, he describes fellow prisoners at Auschwitz and other Nazi extermination camps who were able to maintain a sense of "inner liberty" despite their external circumstances. He even described them as deepening spiritually, and what's most remarkable is that he describes this deepening as not coming about in spite of but because of the cruelty and hardships they experienced.
"If there is a meaning in life at all," he writes, "then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete." He also quotes the Russian novelist Dostoyevski, who wrote of wanting to be "worthy" of his sufferings.
"If there is a meaning in life at all," psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Victor Frankl writes, "then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete."
In the past, I rarely encountered Buddhists who were as willing as Frankl to say that suffering has meaning. Perhaps that's why I now feel so at home at Chozen-ji, whose founder, Tanouye Tenshin Rotaishi, is said to have prescribed to his students that, if they hadn't experienced suffering, to go out and buy some!
Fully experiencing suffering—and turning our suffering into opportunities to study and understand it—makes it possible to interrupt the mechanism that takes clinging and elevates it to craving. That's the Third Noble Truth in a nutshell, which states that by freeing ourselves from craving, suffering also ceases. And then the Fourth Noble Truth identifies a method by which to end craving and suffering, the Noble Eightfold Path:
Right View
Right Intention
Right Speech
Right Conduct
Right Livelihood
Right Effort
Right Mindfulness
Right Samadhi, or meditative concentration
This kind of list—long, technical, and kind of conceptual—is a hallmark of Buddhism. It is particularly common in schools of Theravada Buddhism found in Southeast Asia. Zen, however—and in particular the Rinzai school of Zen in which I train—tends to focus more on what's essential, or the essence, of Buddhist teaching.
The Japanese Rinzai Zen philosopher D. T. Suzuki described the transit of Buddhism from India to Japan through the progressive evolution of a core principle. Originating in India, Buddhists endeavored to understand the nature of the individual mind, and through that, they come to understand a universal or transcendent Mind—a.k.a., the universe. He summed up its core principle as Mind Only.
When Buddhism was transmitted to China, it encountered Taoism, Confucianism, and a very literary intellectual tradition, and Suzuki describes this essential characteristic of Mind Only as sort of flipping into its opposite, No Mind. (Because religion addresses the Absolute and the Absolute is not dualistic, we often find this kind of paradox and contradiction in religion. So here, Mind Only is the same, in a way, as No Mind.)
And then, by the time Buddhism and in particular Zen took root in medieval Japan, people were asking what the practical manifestation or utilization of this No Mind was. What emerged was the Immovable Mind.
In the context of the Four Noble Truths, the Immovable Mind frees us from craving and suffering because it's a kind of consciousness that doesn't stop or get stuck on anything. Immovable doesn't mean immobile. In fact, what makes the Mind immovable is that it does not stop. Whatever is pleasant or unpleasant is experienced fully. Even clinging to what's pleasant is experienced fully. But, because the Immovable Mind continues to roll with all of the moment-to-moment changes that make up our existence (again, because everything is impermanent), the Mind doesn't stop long enough for craving to develop.
Because the Immovable Mind continues to roll with all of the moment-to-moment changes that make up our impermanent existence, the Mind doesn't stop long enough for craving to develop.
The seventeenth century Zen master, Hakuin, used the metaphor of a ball on a fast moving stream to illustrate this Immovable Mind. Rolling and turning whenever it encounters an obstacle, the ball never stops moving. In contrast, a branch or a piece of paper on that same stream gets stuck and is pummeled by rushing waters.
So, how does one develop this Immovable Mind? If you've been reading my newsletter, you know that my answer is always the same: training. Whether it's in a tradition that's more Mind Only, No Mind, Immovable Mind or, as we might say at Chozen-ji, Body Only, there are many ways to go deep so that the Four Noble Truths aren't just neat concepts but something to completely know and experience.
So, how does one develop this Immovable Mind? If you've been reading my newsletter, you know that my answer is always the same: training.
I hope that you've enjoyed this explanation of Buddhism's core principles, the Four Noble Truths. If you have, then please, bookmark this article to come back to later and go jump into some physical training. Ideally, this would include some vigorous, seated, eyes open meditation to start it off, but almost any sort of intense martial arts or exercise is also beneficial. After getting yourself into good physical/mental/spiritual condition to observe your own suffering, you’ll probably find additional, new aspects of the Four Noble Truths that ring true.
When we can really appreciate them, it’s possible to see that the Four Noble Truths are quite radical and total, and that they demand intense exploration—the kind that cannot be found in empty speculation, but only through deep spiritual training.
Great insights as always! I can’t wait for your book to be released.
Question: Is there discussion among Buddhists about non-attachment to historical forms of Buddhism? It always struck me as a paradox that some Buddhists (especially Buddhist converts from non-Buddhist backgrounds) often go overboard in adopting outward forms of historically rooted Buddhist traditions (sometimes I think coming very close to cultural appropriation). It always makes me chuckle a bit when some Buddhist converts introduce themselves with long exotic names, but later you find out their name is actually ‘Gary’ or something really ordinary like that. Lol. They seem to have a deep attachment to form.
How does one practice Buddhism without getting caught up in the “form” of the thing, especially in some branches of Buddhism like Japanese Zen which places a great emphasis on architecture, the arts, brushwork etc. that is very rooted in a very specific form/cultural milieu?
Thanks again for your wonderful insights and thoughtful reflections.
Always insightful reading!