| | Been doing some reading, I highly recommend "The Paradox of Becoming" by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. In chapter two he discusses the analogy of "the field" in which the field is past and present kamma, i.e. the area in which consciousness (the seed) can be planted, and then fed by craving (the moisture.) In this part he explains the functioning of craving, sounded a whole lot like the attention wave. However, this process requires one further element for those seeds to grow: the moisture of craving, the third factor in the field analogy. At first glance, craving would not seem to merit a separate function within the field analogy, for it is a type of present kamma, and as such could be included as part of the field. However, in the Buddha’s definition of the craving that leads to renewed becoming, he states that one of the primary functions of craving is as a locator: choosing a location to relish, around which a state of becoming can form. “And this, monks, is the noble truth of the origination of stress: the craving that makes for renewed becoming—accompanied by passion & delight, relishing now here & now there ….” — SN 56:11 Thus the moisture of craving is a type of kamma that chooses which seeds, planted where in the field, will grow. Only the seeds moistened in this way will develop into states of becoming. In other words, the mental qualities of passion, delight, and craving select a particular spot in experience to focus on, and in so doing provide a place for becoming to be produced. This is why discourses such as Sn 5:2 and Thag 14:2 describe craving as a “seamstress”: It stitches the elements of becoming together, like a button on a piece of cloth, in a particular place. The story of flavor-earth illustrates this principle when it describes craving as “alighting” on the flavor-earth. We should keep in mind, though, that the notion of place here is not limited to a physical place. It can also denote a mental event, as when a feeling, perception, or act of consciousness becomes the nucleus around which a state of becoming can grow. As we have seen in the analysis of the field, this nucleus can be composed either of past or present kamma: either the raw materials provided by past kamma or the activity of present intentions shaping those materials into a desirable form. When the raw materials from the past are favorable, craving can focus on trying to extend them and squeeze as much pleasure out of them as possible. When they are unfavorable, it can focus on trying to destroy them or convert them into something better. In either case, craving requires a constant doing, in anticipation of the happiness to which the doing will lead. In using the word anticipation here, however, it is important to note that, with so much kamma focused on shaping the present, anticipation means not only a desire for the future but also a desire to mold a favorable present moment. This anticipation is often accompanied by delight—either in the prospect of maintaining a pleasant situation or changing an unfavorable one. And as the Buddha points out, this delight is equivalent to clinging. “There is the case where one enjoys, welcomes, & remains fastened. And what does one enjoy & welcome, to what does one remain fastened? One enjoys, welcomes, & remains fastened to form. As one enjoys, welcomes, & remains fastened to form, there arises delight. Any delight in form is clinging. [Similarly with feeling, perception, fabrications, and consciousness.]” — SN 22:5 (emphasis added) This means that the origination of stress, as defined above, is not craving alone; it is craving plus clinging. When these two qualities land on any of the aggregates, they produce clinging-aggregates, which form the essence of suffering and stress in the context of the four noble truths. And because craving and clinging are the proximate causes of becoming, every state of becoming is thus permeated—either subtly or blatantly—with stress. This stress is compounded by the fact that craving and clinging are so haphazard and erratic. As the standard definition of the origination of stress notes, they relish “now here, now there.” They can change their focus at any moment, abandoning the construction of one state of becoming to start work on a new one. In terms of the field analogy, the primary reason why craving and clinging focus on a particular spot in the field is to enjoy the potential happiness they anticipate that the spot has to offer. However, when the spot is fabricated, it is tied to other conditions—those on which it depends, and those that depend on it. Craving and clinging are thus tied to those other conditions as well, whether they are desirable or not. For example, a seed may be planted in a lovely spot, but if a drought, flood, or fire comes through the spot, the resulting plant could easily be killed. Even when craving and clinging try to avoid this drawback by moving their location from place to place—this is, in fact, their most common tactic for avoiding pain— the mind becomes exhausted from its inability to find genuine rest. Often, in rash desperation to escape an undesirable place, craving and clinging choose another place without careful consideration, landing in spots that quickly prove disastrous. And of course the mind is extremely fickle. Having decided that it likes a particular spot, it can immediately change its mind. This change can come so quickly that the Buddha—normally a master of the apt analogy—had to admit that he could not find an adequate analogy for it. “I don’t envision a single thing that is as quick to reverse itself as the mind—so much so that there is no satisfactory simile for how quick to reverse itself it is.” — AN 1:48 Thus the fluid changeability of the moisture of craving adds even more stress to the stress already inherent in the instability of the field and the seed. In this way the field analogy shows how elements that are stressful and conditioned—kamma, consciousness, and craving—combine to form states of becoming that are inherently stressful and conditioned as well. “Being” is not an absolute state; it fluctuates as becoming, which in turn is based on unstable ground and given life by fleeting acts of consciousness and fickle acts of craving and clinging. ... the following is an interesting bit about unskillful equanimity Thus the inherent stress of becoming lies not only in the instability of the factors on which it depends, but also on the stress and pain involved in those factors—pain felt not only by the person creating those states of becoming, but also by any beings who provide nourishment for that person’s physical existence. Viewed in this way, the two field analogies show why becoming offers no lasting happiness, and why that happiness is rarely blameless. This means that becoming, when looked at objectively, is not a desirable process in which to be engaged. Because these analogies also suggest why renewed becoming is potentially an infinitely renewable process, they show why anyone looking for true happiness would want to search for a way to bring becoming to an end. At the same time, the field analogies indicate why there would be a paradox inherent in the desire to put an end to becoming: The desire to deprive the seed of moisture would function as a form of moisture as well. The Buddha expresses this point in his full description of the origination of stress: “And this, monks, is the noble truth of the origination of stress: the craving that makes for renewed becoming—accompanied by passion & delight, relishing now here & now there—i.e., craving for sensuality, craving for becoming, craving for non-becoming.” — SN 56:11 Like bhava, “non-becoming”—vibhava—is a term that the Buddha does not define. It is related to the verb vibhavati, which means to stop becoming, to stop being, to go out of existence. Iti 49 gives an example of how delight in nonbecoming would be expressed: “When this self, at the break-up of the body, after death, perishes & is destroyed, and does not exist after death, that is peaceful, that is exquisite, that is sufficiency!” Thus craving for non-becoming would mean a desire for something already existing to perish or be destroyed. In terms of the field analogies, this craving could focus on the destruction of the ground or the nutriment in the seed. Now, the desire to interact kammically with these factors in any way is the moisture that nurtures the seed of kammically active consciousness, thus causing renewed becoming to grow. When the desire aims at destroying a particular spot in the field, all the elements for producing becoming are nevertheless in place: the ground of past and present kamma, the kammically active seed, and the moisture of clinging and craving. In this case, the clinging and craving are focused in anticipation on present kamma—as the desire to do whatever is necessary to bring about the destruction of the field—and thus these factors function as moisture nevertheless. MN 106 shows that another form of craving for non-becoming would be the desire to maintain equanimity in the face of a particular spot in the field, in anticipation of the peace to be experienced in merely letting it pass. This, too, contains all the elements needed to produce becoming: The act of trying to maintain equanimity is present kamma; and the delight in the equanimity itself, or in anticipation of a higher peace it will lead to, the moisture. The result, while peaceful, is still a state of becoming. Because becoming inherently involves suffering, these facts present a strategic challenge to anyone who wants to bring suffering to an end: how to put an end to renewed becoming without falling into the trap of craving for subtle becoming or craving for non-becoming. However, in addition to pointing to this strategic challenge, the field analogies also point to a possible solution to that challenge. The ground provided by past kamma in no way determines that the plants of becoming will have to grow, or that suffering will have to continue without end. It only opens the possibility that these events can happen. If, however, present kamma in the form of the moisture is withheld or allowed to run dry, the potentials offered by the field and seed will not have to be actualized. For this approach to work, though, there must be a particular type of becoming that can supply the mind with an appropriate identity in a particular location where it can develop dispassion for all types of kamma, clinging, and craving. Once that dispassion has allowed all other locations of moisture to run dry, it can then turn to allow the moisture providing its own location to run dry as well. In other words—and this is the practical corollary to the paradox of becoming—there must be a state of becoming that can act as a preliminary stage of the path that leads ultimately to the end of all becoming. The Buddha’s main strategic discovery was to find that such a state of becoming actually exists, and that—with proper discernment—it can actually be used to bring suffering to an end. The rest of the book seems to expand on this last bit, still reading. Interesting, 3 alternatives The first of the three alternatives listed in the prose part of this passage— adhering to becoming—is nothing more than the continued desire to engage in the process of becoming, unwilling to heed the Buddha’s warnings of its drawbacks. The second alternative, delighting in non-becoming, is here given its clearest definition in the discourses. It consists of delight in the idea that what is currently becoming will pass away. The third alternative—seeing things as they have come to be—is best understood by reviewing the approach the mind takes in giving rise to becoming. Delight in becoming focuses on the ground and nutriment for becoming in anticipation of converting them into a sense of self and the world. Delight in non-becoming focuses on the ground and nutriment in anticipation of their passing. In both cases, the mind inhabits a location in the focal point of delight. To see things as they have come to be, however, means looking at them without the interference of delight of any sort, simply to watch them as, having arisen, they pass away. |