Spiritual inquiry in Buddhism

·期刊原文
Spiritual inquiry in Buddhism

by Fenner, Peter
ReVision

Vol. 17 No. 2 Fall.1994

Pp,13-25

Copyright by ReVision

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Buddhism stands unique among the world's spiritual traditions for its rich
set of methods for integrating rigorous conceptual inquiry with the art of
meditation. In Buddhist meditation we find intriguing techniques such as
the Zen use of insight riddles (koan) and the sophisticated Middle Path
(Madhyamika) method of paradoxical deconstruction (prasanga-vicara). These
methods cut directly across the rift between intellectual activity and deep
contemplation by harnessing the tremendous power and momentum of thought to
effect an "inside job" in propelling consciousness to a direct, un-mediated
encounter with reality. Similarly, the time-honored and ancient Buddhist
tradition of mindfulness meditation (satipatthana) uses discrimination as a
resource to produce a simple, close, and uncluttered appreciation of our
immediate experience. Rather than fight against the dominating and
pervasive presence of thought, these traditions turn our need to interpret
and understand into a tool for penetrating spiritual inquiry. It would seem
that Buddhism has achieved a balance wherein thought is used to help
disclose rather than conceal the deepest spiritual truths.

Although this interpretation of Buddhist meditation might appear
comfort-ing to western "intellectual and scientific" Buddhists, there often
lurks a suspicion among "serious" meditators and practitioners that any
interpretation of the spiritual endeavor that values conceptual inquiry is
yet another manifestation of the dilution and degeneration of Buddhism (the
dharma). Thus, within spiritual traditions, we often see a divide between
the thinkers (the philosophers, scientists, translators, and academics) and
the practitioners (the meditators and yogis). Moreover, this divide is not
only a social phenomenon. At a more fundamental level, it discloses a
dilemma for all "thoughtful practitioners," that is, all practitioners who
still find themselves thinking. The dilemma revolves around the question of
the role and value of spiritual inquiry and understanding. To the extent
that we acknowledge that purposeful inquiry and interpretation can both
conceal and disclose the liberating reality (tattva) that we seek, we are
forever in a dilemma about whether our own spiritual actions are bringing
us closer to our goal or pushing us further away. Is our inquiry
progressive or regressive? How can we tell? Is it helpful or harmful to
search for, or invent, a means to distinguish helpful from harmful forms of
inquiry? We are not even sure whether asking this very question is helpful
or harmful. Is the time spent reading and engaging with this essay

merely an intellectual indulgence or is it spiritually valuable? Is what I
am doing right now central or tangential to my spiritual pursuits?

In order to engage with these questions, I will begin by contrasting two
seemingly contrary positions about the role of inquiry in the spiritual
endeavor within Buddhism. I call these positions the "orthodox" and
"unorthodox." The orthodox position is represented by the more mainstream
Buddhist traditions, in which the claim is made that spiritual inquiry can
help disclose the insight that frees us from ignorance and suffering.
Within these traditions, spiritual inquiry is viewed as a method or device
(upaya) for helping students see through the illusions of egoism and
self-centeredness. The unorthodox position can be found within a handful of
more esoteric Buddhist traditions, such as the Complete Seal (Mahamudra),
Complete Fulfillment (rDzogs chen) and early Chinese Zen, which teach that
all forms of spiritual inquiry are irrelevant, or even counterproductive,
in terms of achieving spiritual awakening. Some texts and spiritual masters
present the unorthodox perspective selectively, while others present it in
a quite uncompromising form.

These two sets of traditions, the orthodox, in which meditative
investigation is advocated and used, and the unorthodox, in which such
methods are repudiated. focus on the dilemma we are addressing in an acute
and pronounced way. The radical difference in these two positions opens up
the possibilities that spiritual inquiry is (1) helpful, (2) harmful, or
(3) irrelevant to spiritual understanding.[2]

While this essay will focus on the role of spiritual inquiry in Buddhism.
the predicament we are addressing is encountered by all spiritual
practitioners, because the question of whether "what one is doing" has
spiritual value or not is a concern for practitioners of any religious,
philosophical, or psychological system. Thus, though our discussion is of
Buddhism, the implications of our analysis can be applied to the methods
that occur in any religious or metaphysical tradition, such as prayer.
liturgy, textual study, and contemplation.

We will begin our own "inquiry" by briefly examining some of the important
and representative forms of spiritual inquiry in Buddhism. In particular.
we will look at mindfulness practice (sati-patthana and zazen), insight
riddles (koan), and paradoxical deconstruction (prasanga-vicara). In order
to provide the critique of spiritual inquiry we will mainly draw on the
Complete Fulfillment tradition (rDzogs chen), though we will also refer to
Zen, the Complete Seal (Mahamudra), and an unaligned Indian master. The
main material liar this critique will come from a text by a fourteenth
century Tibetan master, kLong chen pa. We will use extracts that present a
comprehensive critique of goal-oriented forms of Buddhism.

TYPES OF INQUIRY

Mindfulness Meditation

In early Buddhism, which is most accurately represented today by the
Theravada tradition, we find a very basic and accessible form of spiritual
inquiry called mindfulness meditation (satipatthana). This method is
popular in the West, where it is taught as "mindfulness" or "insight
meditation" by Western and Asian teachers such as Joseph Goldstein
(1983,1993), Jack Kornfield (1993), Ayya Khema (1987), and Thich Nhat Hanh
(1991, 1993). In this meditative practice, we learn to recognize and
observe the individual components that make up the full range of human
experience. The exercise is to attend to the different processes and
phenomena that occur in the here-and-now as we are sitting in meditative
posture or engaged in the various activities of our lives. This involves
systematically observing our experience to find out what is there. The
process of attending to our experience is assisted, in some interpretations
of mindfulness, by applying simple and generic labels to the phenomena we
observe. The intention is only to be aware of what is occurring in the
present moment; we are nol looking for an answer to a problem we might have
posed. Nor do we attend to our experience for the purpose of producing a
theory or explanation about why things behave in the ways that they do.

The Discourse on Mindfulness (Sati-patthana Sutta) taught by the Buddha
describes this science of systematic observation in great detail. It lays
out the processes and phenomena towards which the meditator directs his or
her attention. For example, with respect to one's body one may serially
attend to one's breathing and to the position of one's body--whether it is
upright, settled, or prostrate. Within these positions one observes whether
one is looking towards or away from something, whether one is moving or
stationary, bending, stretching, eating, drinking, chewing, savoring,
falling asleep, waking up. speaking, or remaining silent. With respect to
one's feelings, one identifies whether what one is feeling is pleasant,
painful, or neither and whether the feelings are of a worldly or spiritual
form. One also observes the arising and dissolution of these various
feelings. With respect to emotions and mental states, one recognizes the
presence or absence of different moods and emotions, such as desire, hate,
excitement, anger, worry, joy, love, agitation, torpor, and doubt. One also
observes the presence or absence of ignorance and whether one's mental
state is contracted or expanded, inferior or superior, concentrated or
unconcentrated, free or constrained. With respect to the different
dimensions (skandha) of our experience, one observes whether one is
attending to a physical form (rupa), a Feeling (vedana), a perception
(samjna), a drive or impulse (samskara), or consciousness itself (citta).
In the domain of spiritual experiences one observes the presence or absence
of mindfulness, inquiry, energy, joy, relaxation, concentration and
equanimity.[3]

The initial task in mindfulness meditation is to see things as they are in
order to filter out thoughts, feelings, attitudes, etc., that disturb the
emergence of peaceful awareness. As Ayya Khema (1987, 16) explains:

When thoughts arise, look at them, give them a name. Whether it is a
correct label or not doesn't matter. Any label during meditation means
the thought needs to be dropped. When you have learned to label in
meditation you will be able to label thought as wholesome, profitable,
skillful or otherwise in daily living also. When you know it's not
skillful or wholesome you can let it go.

The ultimate aim of mindfulness meditation is to bring us into contact with
the raw sensory information of our experience. When we get beneath the
interpretative filters with which we analyze and add complexity to our
experience, we discover that all compounded phenomena are impermanent,
signless, and self-less. This recognition does not come through looking for
these characteristics. They am not confirmed as the conclusion of an
empirical hypothesis. Rather, reality simply shows up as constantly
changing and without any abiding essence. As this practice matures the
meditator also realizes that there is no self within the aggregation of
components that constitute people and their experience. There is no stable
observer observing what is being observed. The very instant an observer is
identified, it takes on the characteristics of that which is being
observed. At some level there is a witnessing or registration of experience
but this registration dissolves into nothing as it is instantaneously
replaced by another gestalt of sense datum. There is no core entity linking
experience together as our experience. Our sense of personal continuity
breaks down into an experience of disparate mental constructs built on
notions of time, space, and experience. We discover that there is nothing
within the physical body, feelings, perceptions, drives, and mental events
that constitutes a person, self, or soul.

This realization, which comes as the result of this inquiry, progressively
frees the meditator from pain and suffering because there is no self to
suffer. Ultimately the meditator ceases to exist as an independent entity.
His or her conditioned experience (samsara) transforms into an experience
of unconditional freedom (nirvana) which transcends all notions of time,
space, and existence.

The tradition of mindfulness meditation is also central to Zen Buddhism. In
Soto Zen, the main practice is zazen, or sitting meditation. Traditionally,
Japanese Soto is considered to have been established by Dogen Kigen
(1200--1253) The practice he advocated is known as "only zazen (shikan
taza)." In his great work, the Shobogenzo, he claimed that "Zazen is the
Buddha-dhar-ma and the Buddha-dharma is zazen."[4] He describes zazen in
this way:

For sanzen [in this case, doing zazen as instructed by a master], a
quiet room is suitable. Eat and drink moderately. Cast aside all
involvement and cease all affairs. Do not think good or bad. Do not
administer pros or cons. Cease all movement the conscious mind, the
gauging of all thoughts and views. Have no designs on becoming a
Buddha Once you have adjusted your posture, take a deep breath, inhale
and exhale, rock your body right and left and settle into a steady,
immobile sitting position. Think of not thinking. How do you think of
not thinking? Without thinking. This is the essential art of zazen.
(Kasulis 1981, 70 71)

The main difference between Theravada mindfulness meditation patthana) and
simply sitting (zazen) is that less texture is laid over our experience in
the practice of simply sitting. Whereas in mindfulness practice we are
offered a set of predefined categories through which to observe our
experience, in simply sitting, the practice is to be aware of our thoughts,
feelings, and physical sensations as they naturally present themselves to
us. We do not even distinguish between our thoughts, feelings, etc., unless
this is what we are already doing. In simply sitting (Kasulis 1981, 71-77)
one enters a state "without thinking (hishiryo)." This is not a state of
not thinking, for this would exclude thoughts. Nor is it a state of
thinking, for this, would preclude no thought. So in simply sitting we
enter a space of disclosure that allows whatever is there--thoughts or no
thoughts--to be there, just as they are.

Insight Puzzles (Koans)

In the Rinzai (Chinese, Lin-chi) school of Zen (Miura and Sasaki 1965) the
practice of simply sitting is combined with the use of insight fiddles
called koans (Chinese, kung-an). The koan method of inquiry began in China
in the twelfth century with the Sung masters. It was systematized in Japan
in the thirteenth century.

The koan is a kind of puzzle or problem given to a student by a master. The
idea is that the koan brings to the surface a fundamental dilemma that lies
within the student's mind and that obscures spiritual awakening. The
student of Zen is invited to solve a puzzle that defies conceptual
resolution. Sometimes the koans are dialectical in structure. For example,
they might report a terse historical exchange (mondo) between a famous
master and a student. A well-known koan of this type comes from an exchange
between the ninth-century Chinese master Chao-chou (Japanese, Joahu) in
which a monk asked Master Chao-chou: "Has a dog Buddha-nature or not?
Chao-chou answered: "Mu!" In tinge this has developed into the koan, "Show
me mu!

Other koans are nonsensical claims or utterances that the student is
invited to resolve. Hui neng, the Sixth Patriarch of Zen, often set his
students to work on the koan, "What was your original aspect before your
mother and father were born?" Hakuin Zenji, a great reformer of Rinzai Zen,
used to ask his students: "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"
Alternatively, a master might deliver the koan to a student by holding up a
staff and saying: "This is not a staff. What is it?" koan inquiry, then, is
driven by the need to find an intelligible solution to a seemingly
conceptual problem.

By working through a series of koans the student progressively deconstructs
the cognitive structures in her or his psyche that give rise to personal
and spiritual conflicts. If this process is handled skillfully and
diligently, the student will have a nonconceptual insight experience
(satori or kensho) that is a taste of the full-blown experience of
illumination or enlightenment. This experience, which is undeniable and
revolutionary, then takes progressive hold in the life of the student as it
is assimilated and consolidated. The first experience of insight (satori)
was expected within two or three years of beginning koan practice. The full
integration of this experience could take another ten to fifteen years
(Miura and Sasaki 1965, 29).

One cannot underestimate the intensity of the process leading up to the
first experience of satori. D. T. Suzuki likens the process to being asked
by the Zen master to climb to the top of a hundred-foot pole and then
"execute a desperate leap utterly disregarding your existential safety"
(Suzuki 1970. 50). The leap, of course, is the transcendence of
egocentricity.

The initial objective of the koan is to propel the student into an
experience called the "great doubt (daigi)." The immense effort that the
student has expended in working on the koan comes back in her or his face
as the "great doubt block (daigidan)." Everything that the student believes
he or she has left behind suddenly appears directly in front as a massive
and immovable boulder blocking any further progress. It is as though the
student, in attempting to transcend his or her ego, has in fact been
consolidating his or her distinctiveness. The history of inquiring into the
koan has been appropriated by the ego as evidence of the student' s
commitment and spiritual worthiness to gain satori. Any attempt to move the
boulder only adds to its size and sets it more firmly in place.

Toward forcing the student into an experience of the "great doubt," koan
practice is combined with the practice of zazen, or strict meditation. This
combination produces a potent and highly charged environment in which the
chances of achieving breakthrough insight (satori) are greatly enhanced. On
top of the regular daily practice are frequent periods of still more
intensified koan work called sesshin. During these periods the student
meditates for up to eighteen hours a day and is required to have a formal
interview with the master a number of times each day offering a "solution"
to the koan. At times the intensity and seeming significance of these
"encounters" is such that the student has to be forcibly dragged into the
master's room by other students. As Richard De Martino (1970, 161) writes:

Under the stimulation of such a regimen with its taut and serious
atmosphere, the given koan may begin to take effect. The student,
prodded by the stick of the head monk when dozing comes upon him,
exertion wanes, or stiffness and tiredness set in, and spurred,
inspired, goaded or even driven by the master, finds himself to be
more and more caught by his koan. As his each response to it is
rejected, he becomes increasingly dislodged, shaken, and unsteady in
whatever assurance or complacency he originally had.

The koan takes on the dimensions of a life-and-death struggle for the ego.
"The koan thus comes to be . . . a living crisis, taking over as the
central and exclusive concern of . . . [the student's] entire being" (De
Martino 1970, 161).

In working with a koan, the Zen student attempts to keep his or her inquiry
active at all times. The student becomes totally obsessed by the koan.
Every attempt to solve the puzzle intellectually is rejected by the master.
But the search goes on unabated and with ever increasing intensity. The
bankruptcy of the mind to find a solution places the student under
tremendous pressure. The ego "holding onto this last remnant of itself . .
. feels that it can still, at least for the present, preserve itself,
albeit in an almost intolerable condition . . . . The ego, in an
existential quandary which it can neither compose, endure, abandon, or
escape, is unable to advance, unable to retreat, unable to stand fixed" (De
Martino 1970, 162-163). Yet, the master continues, unrelentingly, to demand
that the student resolve this insane predicament. The master demands that
the student fully experience and live the contradiction that being an ego
entails.

Finally, when the student is at the point of total and utter desperation,
the intellect can break open and allow the nature of the mind itself to
appear in a satori experience. This represents a cataclysmic breakdown of
the ego's defenses in which the student simultaneously dies and is reborn
as simply a focus of awareness. It is a "great awakening" in which the
student is irrevocably propelled into an infinitely more spacious and
unrestricted level of awareness. Mind gives way to no-mind, and from here
on the student allows the experience to permeate his or her entire being.

The Middle Path and Paradoxical Deconstruction

The most rigorous and exacting form of meditative inquiry within found in
the method of paradoxical deconstruction (prasanga-vicara) employed by
Middle Pathers (Madhyami-ka).[5] This method, which is also referred to as
"middle-path analysis," "consequential analysis," and "unfindability
analysis," was originally developed in India by the great second-century
philosopher Nagrjuna. With this method Nagarjuna brought contemplative
inquiry to a new level of rigor and precision. The form of spiritual
inquiry he developed was subsequently refined by Tibetan meditators into a
streamlined and powerful method that is central to their discernment
meditations syana) on openness (sunyata).[6]

"Paradoxical deconstruction" refers to a rigorous method of inquiry that is
designed to reverse the tendency of thought to automatically fragment and
perpetuate itself. This particular form of inquiry systematically
deconstructs our belief that all things, ourselves included, have a real or
intrinsic existence.[7] The great seventh-century Indian Middle Path
philosopher Candrakirti (MA: 6.116-117) writes:

When things [are conceived to intrinsically] exist, then conceptuality
(kalpana) is produced. But a thorough analysis shows how things are
not [intrinsically] existent. [When it is realized that] there are
[intrinsically] existent things, conceptualization does not occur,
just as for example, there is no fire without fuel.

Ordinary people are restricted by their conceptualizations, but
practitioners [by achieving a] non-conceptual [realization of the nature of
things (dharmata) become liberated. The learned have said that the result
of analysis (vicara) is the reversal of conceptualization.

Candrakirti's Commentary (MABh: 229-230) adds that the disappearance of
conceptuality comes as a direct result of analysis, and that such
dissipation of conceptuality is concomitant with the onset of the insight
into reality (tattva).[8]

This particular form of inquiry performs an "inside job" in which thought
is used to bring about its own destruction. The gradual breaking down of
ontologizing forms of conceptuality results in a progressive induction of
the insight into openness (sunyata). This insight exposes the open texture
of reality wherein nothing has a substantial, independent, or autonomous
existence (svabhava). It is an experience in which nothing exists in and of
itself. Everything is seen to be coexistent and interdependent with
everything else.

Paradoxical deconstruction involves the structural manipulation of thought
in conformity with certain formal patterns of reasoning while in a deep
meditative state. If these deconstructive meditations are performed
diligently and with sufficient precision and intentionality, they
thoroughly dissolve all conceptual fragmentation (prapanca), thereby
leaving the mind of the meditator clear and spacious (prabhasvara). This
form of inquiry is also called "unfindability analysis" because it
logically leads to the conclusion that what we thought had existed does not
in fact exist. If, for example, we were investigating the reality of our
personal identity (pudgala), the inquiry would experientally disclose our
nonself-existence (nairatmya-pudgala).

Deconstructive Meditation

When Middle Pathers meditate on openness, they first develop their
concentration so that they can focus their thoughts in a firm, precise, and
sustained way. As in many Buddhist traditions, they begin by developing
serenity (samatha) and mental integration (sa-madhi). These practices
stabilize their emotions (klesa) and bring a new level of coherence and
stability to previously fragmented and diffused thought processes.

In beginning the actual deconstructive meditation, Middle Pathers establish
the logical principles upon which their inquiry will be based.
Specifically, they commit themselves to basing their thinking on the
principles of identity, non-contradiction, and the excluded middle.[9] In
the traditional meditational manuals, this commitment is established in two
steps: (1) determining what is to be refuted, and (2) ascertaining the
pervasion. In the first step the meditator distinguishes an object to be
investigated and then determines that it is this object and not something
else that is to be analyzed. This involves making a firm commitment about
the defining characteristics (svalaksana) of the object in question and
deciding not to reconsider this definition during the investigation, nor to
query the identifying characteristics or introduce any ambiguity about what
it is that he or she is analyzing once a deconstructive meditation is
underway. Thus, if the meditator is examining him- or herself, he or she
will take a firm fix on what, for the purposes of any particular
meditation, will be regarded as the self. He or she may decide to focus on
a set of feelings, or memories, or ambitions, or physical appearance, or
all of these and any other aspects of what he or she considers him- or
herself to be.

In the second step, called ascertaining the pervasion, the Middle Pather
selects a logically contrasting relation within which to analyze the object
that is chosen in the first step. When ascertaining the pervasion, the
meditator commits her- or himself to the validity of the principle of the
excluded middle or what is alternatively called the principle of joint
exhaustion. This principle says that A and not A exhaust all the possible
ways in which something can exist. This principle is invoked in order to
ensure that no residue of intrinsic existence is left over at the
completion of a meditation.

Having established these two steps the meditator then chooses a contrasting
relation through which to investigate the object selected in the first
step. If the analyst is seeking to develop insight into the open nature of
his or her own person then he or she will usually look at the experience of
selfhood in relationship to his or her psychophysical organism--what we
will call the "body-mind". The two contrasting relations with which to
structure the analysis will be: (1) that one is one's body-mind, and (2)
that one is not one's body-mind. A logical paradox is then generated for
both of these alternatives. The conclusion that we are not our body-mind is
logically derived from the position that we are our body-mind and the
conclusion that we are our body-mind is logically derived from the belief
that we are not our body-mind. Paradoxical analysis thus decontructs two
mutually excluding and jointly exhaustive positions leaving the meditator
in a radically transformed state of consciousness wherein one is neither
the same as nor different from the body-mind.[10]

This analysis is based on a template called "identity or difference." A
template is an abstracted analytical framework that is superimposed on a
"live" philosophical issue. The live issue is then reformulated around the
template for the purposes of producing logical contradictions. The identity
or difference template is the standard one for analyzing personal identity.
The Tibetan Middle Path meditators have in fact developed a range of
templates based, for example, on how something is produced, whether it
exists as a unit or as a composite of parts, or whether its existence
precedes, is concomitant with, or postdates its identification. With a rich
armory of templates, meditators are able to gradually interrupt the flow of
proliferating conceptuality by exposing self-contradictions within the
thought process. This is a refined process that calls for both robust and
refined analyses, with different templates being used to arrest conceptual
flows that are based on personal identity, conditioned phenomena, and
unconditioned things such as space and freedom.[11]

The Destructuring of Conceptuality

The process of paradoxical deconstruction, where a position and its
opposite mutually entail each other, can be thought of figuratively as a
series of steps that logically induce contradictory beliefs to coalesce at
a common spatial and temporal location. As Shohei Ichimura (1981, 92)
writes: "The predicament created by this dialectic is due to the unexpected
contradiction which our convention implies, and this feature is suddenly
disclosed by the particular context in which two contrary entities are
juxtaposed over the same sphere and moment of illumination." Deconstructive
meditation forces two contradicting beliefs to be held in consciousness at
the same time. However, because the beliefs mutually exclude each other,
each belief deconstructs or dissolves the other (Fenner 1994b; Fenner and
Fenner 1994).

Thus, two opposing beliefs that had previously achieved an artificial
autonomy of existence collapse into and destroy each other. In this way
deconstructive meditation experientially demonstrates that the intrinsic
identity and seemingly independent existence of ourselves and other things
is imposed on reality (tattva) because of the tendency of thought to
bifurcate. The meditator directly sees that reality is boxed in and cut up
purely as a function of conceptual designation (prajnaptisat). In the
absence of conceptual splitting (vikalpa), independently existing things
return to a ground of being that cannot be said to be dual or nondual.

Though effort and application is required on the part of Middle Path
meditators to counteract the energy and momentum of conceptual splitting,
such splitting is viewed as an artificial condition that is maintained only
through the constant investment of effort. At root it is propelled by the
need to secure our own solid and independent existence. When that effort is
relaxed conceptuality tends to naturally fold in on itself and dissipate.
According to Middle Pathers, openness (sanyata) is a natural, effortless,
and primordial condition of existence whereas conceptual proliferation is
characterized by the continual expenditure of effort and struggle (duhkha).
Thus, for Middle Pathers, conceptual bifurcation is the source of our
suffering in the whirlpool of cyclic existence (samsara).

In their meditations Middle Pathers plumb the deepest and most entrenched
(sahaja) forms of conceptuality--modes that can only be penetrated through
long and quiet meditation. By deconstructing the very foundations of their
worldview, they gain experiences that are deeper and more lasting than the
mere manipulation of conscious thought. Tibetan meditators often quote a
line from Santideva's Introduction to the Evolved Lifestyle (BCA: 9.140a)
in this regard that says, "Without contacting the thing that is imagined
there is no ascertainment of its non-[intrinsic] existence." The import of
this line is that one must get to the very center, or solid core, of one's
beliefs if one is to liberate them through deconstructive meditations.
Thus, when meditators work on realizing the open and insubstantial nature
(nihsvabhava) of themselves they progressively connect with all aspects and
dimensions of their personality structures. They begin by connecting with
the more superficial or surface (parikalpita) aspects of who they are, such
as the beliefs they have acquired in their formal education and upbringing.
As these are deconstructed they move to more basic beliefs and emotions,
such as the very need for survival. By locating and dismantling the deepest
and most foundational flows of conceptuality they gain existentially
far-reaching results from their deconstructive meditations.

Through practice, Middle Pathers hone and refine their meditations so that
their conceptual trajectories, as specified by the analytical procedures,
are controlled, penetrating, and focused, thereby producing a predictable
and consistent reversal of conceptual fragmentation. Through repeated
meditations over many thousands of hours, they progressively and thoroughly
eliminate all traces of the belief that they are unique and self-existent.
Insight necessarily follows from rigorous analysis.

The Complete Fulfillment and the Negative Value of Inquiry

Up to this point we have outlined a number of different types of inquiry
used within Buddhism to facilitate the development of spiritual insight. In
the following sections, we will study the claim, developed in a number of
different Buddhist traditions, that spiritual inquiry of the type we have
just been considering is a counterproductive influence for the emergence of
real spiritual understanding. The traditions within which one can find this
critique of spiritual investigation include Zen, the Complete Seal
(Mahamudra), and the Complete Fulfillment (rDzogs chen). Our own
investigation will focus on the Complete Fulfillment tradition, though we
will also draw on the observations of Zen and Complete Seal masters.[12] We
will also draw on the comments of a contemporary nonaligned spiritual
teacher whose roots are in the Hindu tradition.

We will base this section on a particularly forthright text written by
fourteenth-century Tibetan master kLong chen pa. The sections are extracted
from a text titled The Natural Freedom of Being in the Complete Fulfillment
Tradition (rDzogs pa chen po chos nyid rang grol), which in turn is the
second book of a series titled Trilogy on Natural Freedom (Rang grol skor
gsum).[13] We will begin by looking at the claims made by these unorthodox
schools and then move on to explain why spiritual inquiry of the type
exemplified in mindfulness practice, insight riddles (koan), and
deconstructive meditation are viewed as a hindrance to the emergence of
spiritual understanding.[14]

kLong chen pa begins:

Even though one may take sides and give allegiance to a philosophical
system, or even [Cultivate] the innumerable types of philosophical
viewpoints, meditational methods or [traditions of] action, still it
is difficult to see the authentic meaning of the essential
mind-in-itself (snying po'i sems nyid). Through their different
analyses of selflessness of persons and things, the disciples [of the
fully evolved teachers], those who have evolved by themselves, the
Phenomenalists and the constructive Middle Pathers [lose sight of] the
real practice of view, meditation and action, and get sidetracked in
the four [types of diversions], such as getting spaced out. By [going
astray in this way] innumerable creatures seem to [prolong their]
existence.

According to kLong chen pa it is impossible to understand the
mind-in-itself by relying on any of the philosophical systems (siddhanta)
or meditative methods that have been developed in Buddhism. By the
mind-in-itself, kLong chen pa means the mind as distinct from mental
activities such as thinking and perceiving. Mind-as-such is unconditioned
and unstained by thought activity. It is likened to a mirror that reflects
the world just-as-it-is without preferring any percept over any other one.
The mind-in-itself is the Zen no-mind. From the large range of Buddhist
philosophical systems, kLong chen pa specifically targets the
Phenomenalists (Cittamatra or Yogacara), who held the view that all
phenomena are mental, and the Middle Pathers (Madhyamika). According to
kLong chen pa, the very deconstructive meditations that Middle Pathers
claim reverse conceptuality in fact divert meditators from gaining any
authentic spiritual insight.

An identical assessment about the negative value of spiritual inquiry was
voiced earlier by powerful exponents (mahasiddha) of the Complete Seal
(Mahamudra) such as Saraha, who boldly proclaimed that: "Mantras and
tantras, meditation and concentration are all a cause of self-deception. Do
not defile in contemplation thought that is pure in its own nature, but
abide in the bliss of yourself and cease these torments" (Conze 1954, 227).

In Zen too, we can find similar declarations. The eighth-century Chinese
master Mazu, for example, wrote, "To grasp the good and reject the bad, to
contemplate emptiness and enter concentration, is all in the province of
contrivance--and if you go on seeking externals, you get further and
further estranged" (Cleary 1989, 1). Similarly, Yuanwu, a Chinese master
from the East Mountain School of Zen, wrote, "To study Zen conceptually is
like drilling in ice for fire, like digging a hole to look for the sky. It
just increases mental fatigue. To study Zen by training is adding mud to
dirt, scattering sand in the eyes, impeding you more and more" (Cleary
1989, 37).

Continuing his critique, kLong chen pa writes:

Some say that the purification (sangs) of the mind is the goal of
view, meditation and action. Some suppress their drives and feelings.
Some say that cutting their connection with the three times is the
unimpeded state of immediate awareness. Others note the arisings and
cessation [of whatever appears in their awareness]. They say these are
the real aim [of practice, but here there are only] turbulent waves of
proliferating conceptualization (rtog pa).

In this paragraph kLong chen pa isolates more meditational methods. is Here
he mentions the tantric methods of purification, the monastic method in
which one suppresses emotions such as desire and anger, the trance-like
meditations in which one is completely disconnected from the temporal
world, and even the time-honored method of mindfulness meditation. All of
these, he claims, precipitate rather than attenuate conceptual activity.

After critiquing the methods of Buddhist tantra on the grounds that they
stimulate desire, kLong chen pa continues:

Alas! Because these people do not know how to recognize the precious
jewel they appear to be searching for junk jewelry, having discarded
the wish-fulfilling gem. Having rejected what is supreme, the
veritable nature of the mind itself, [and instead] conditioning
themselves with fabricated techniques [based on] hope and fear (re
dogs) they are trapped in a nest of snakes. One can never become free
with an obsessive mind. The defect Lies in the seeker who seeks for
the meaning of that which is sought after.

After emphasizing how seriously misguided the aforementioned practices are,
kLong chen pa comes to the heart of the problem. The assumption in all the
above methods of spiritual practice and inquiry is that our present
condition is inadequate or impoverished and that it should not be this way.
They are all predicated on the belief that "something is missing." For
example, in Theravada we lack the experience of egolessness. In Zen we lack
the breakthrough illumination of satori. In the Middle Path we lack the
insight (prajna) that corrects our fundamental ignorance. The methods of
these traditions are all designed to bring forth whatever is thought to be
missing. Because the assumption that something is missing is so pervasive
and constant, kLong chen pa refers to it as the "obsessed mind." This
problem is inherent in the identity of the seeker because the seeker is
driven by the belief that there is something of value to find. Yet for as
long as the practitioner is a seeker, she or he is doomed to be
dissatisfied because she or he has not reached the goal that is sought.
Hence kLong chen pa writes that "the defect lies in the seeker who seeks
for the meaning of that which is sought after."

Centuries earlier Saraha made the same point--that reality is present and
available yet elusive if deliberately sought--when he stated, "The nature
of the sky is originally clear but by gazing and gazing the sight becomes
obscured. Then when the sky appears deformed in this way, the fool does not
know that this is the fault of his own mind" (Conze 1954, 229). The
ninth-century Chinese Zen master Linji made the same observation, claiming
that "when you look for it [enlightenment] you become further from it, when
you seek it you turn from it all the more" (Cleary 1989, 6).

kLong chen pa's text continues:

Hey! If one wants to apprehend the meaning of the nature of the mind
itself what is the use of many investigations and analyses? Whatever
appears is fight there without the grasping of the appearance. When
one has no fixations and doesn't adopt a position one does not need to
accept or reject (blang dot) [anything at all]. Because everything is
beyond mental orientation, don't meddle or spoil it!

The claim by Middle Pathers that they can reconstruct conceptuality and
bring about a cessation (nirodha) through analysis is a myth according to
kLong chen pa. The Middle Pather using deconstructive techniques and the
Zen practitioner who is working with a koan are just living in hope if they
believe that these methods can precipitate a nonconceptual experience of
reality.

Thus, while mainstream Rinzai Zen practitioners rely on koans to achieve
satori, some Zen masters criticized their use. Seventeenth-century Japanese
master Bankei rejected both sitting meditation (zazen) and koan practice,
calling them "tool Zen." He is quoted (Waddell 1973, 147) as saying:

Zen masters of today generally use "old tools" when they deal with
pupils, apparently thinking they cannot raise the barriers [to
enlightenment] without them. They do not teach by thrusting themselves
directly forward and confronting their students without their tools.
These men who teach with tools and cannot do without them are the
blind men of Zen.

The contemporary nonaligned teacher U. G. Krishnamurti is an outspoken
critic of all forms of spiritual and religious inquiry. According to
Krishnamurti (1982, 62):

If you practice any system of mind control, automatically the "you" is
there, and through this it is continuing . . . Nor can you practice
mindfulness, trying to be aware every moment of your life. You cannot
be aware; you and awareness cannot co-exist. If you could be in a
state of awareness for one second by the clock, once in your life, the
continuity would be snapped, the illusion of the experiencing
structure, the "you," would collapse, and everything would fall into
the natural rhythm. In this state you do not know what you are looking
at--that is awareness.

The reason why we cannot reverse the thinking process is that thought only
moves in the direction of producing more thought. Hence, according to
Krishnamurti, if a reversal of the thinking process is ever to occur, it
must be acausal because every attempt to cause it to invert only guarantees
its continuation. It is impossible to willingly stop thinking because every
effort to do this only adds momentum to conceptual activity. In other
words, we cannot think our way to the end of thought.

Under this interpretation, and contrary to the stated aim, every spiritual
theory and method is in fact designed to perpetuate the practitioner's
independence and individuality. It does not matter whether we are
controlling our thoughts or letting them be, intensifying our emotions or
releasing them, because the experiences that arise are all appropriated by
the ego. The ego designs progressively more sophisticated methods for
disguising its commitment to self-maintenance. The most sophisticated
methods are found in the domain of spirituality where the name of the game
is to "transcend the self." Thus, within the domain of spirituality we find
a number of inventions that are designed to disguise our finite and
ego-based existence. We have notions such as "timelessness,"
"non-conceptuality," and "non-self," which all act to maintain the status
quo.

For example, the continuation of time is guaranteed by inventing the
concept of a "timeless dimension" and then pursuing an experience of "the
timeless." In similar fashion, thought cremes the possibility of a state of
"no-thought" and then ensures its own maintenance for as long as no-thought
is sought. One of the most sophisticated ways of perpetuating the ego is
found in the Buddhist theory of egolessness. Within this theory the ego
denies its own existence, thereby creating the ideal and goal of realizing
egolessness as a way of sealing the on-going existence of the ego. The game
plan of the ego goes undetected in this theory because the ego is merely an
illusion.

The Dilemma

The dilemma we are confronted with is now apparent. On the one hand we have
the orthodox traditions of Buddhism that teach meditation and other forms
of spiritual inquiry and provide the circumstances for such practices
through the creation of monasteries, temples, and lay organizations. On the
other hand we have highly accomplished sages from well-respected Buddhist
traditions declaring that orthodox methods for spiritual advancement are
useless.

At a philosophical level the contrast is between those who in one way or
another say that spiritual inquiry can causally produce a nonconceptual
awareness and those claiming that spiritual inquiry can never be an agent
for the emergence of spiritual insight. For example, Middle Pathers writing
in the philosophical tenets (siddhanta) literature state that insight
arises in dependence on deconstructive analysis. They thereby reject that
insight occurs adventitiously or through no cause at all. Advocates of the
Complete Fulfillment claim that spiritual methods perpetuate
conceptualization and do not give rise to spiritual insight.

Spiritual seekers relate to these philosophical positions personally as
conflicting beliefs and attitudes that accompany the spiritual endeavor.
They are experienced as pairs of polarized feelings and orientations that
can change from year to year and day to day, such as the following pairs:

There is something to do/There is nothing to do

This isn't it/This is it

There is something to get/There isn't anything to get

There is something I need to know/There is nothing I need to know

I need to think about this more/Thinking won't help me

In general terms the first orientation in each polarity relates to orthodox
traditions. The second orientation in each polarity is closer to the
perspective of the unorthodox traditions.[16]

There are two ways that we can become resolved about the issue. One
possibility is to take a position in favor of the orthodox or unorthodox
interpretation. The position that we adopt might be consistent with how we
have thought about this question in the past or it could represent a change
in our thinking. We might also achieve a point of resolution by settling
into the position that there is no right interpretation, or that it is
impossible to decide which approach is correct. We are certain that the
problem is unsolvable as a simple decision in favor of one or other
interpretation.

If we are unable to come down unequivocally on either side, or are
uncomfortable with declaring that the dilemma simply cannot be resolved, we
are in a state of irresolution. In other words, we do not know where we
are--we have lost our beatings and cannot respond decisively to the
question of where we are situated vis-a-vis the correctness or adequacy of
the orthodox versus unorthodox interpretations of the spiritual endeavor.

With respect to the state of resolution we should note that in validating
one interpretation and invalidating the other we have settled into a
philosophical position. By agreeing with either the orthodox or unorthodox
interpretation, we adopt a viewpoint and thereby also forsake the claim by
Zen, the Middle Path, and the unorthodox schools that they are
positionless. Strictly, there is nothing that they would defend as
representing their own philosophy or refute as a misrepresentation. By
preferring the orthodox or unorthodox interpretation we ignore a common
guiding vision that is to be free of any viewpoint. Acceptance and
rejection represent an intellectual resolution of problems, and the Middle
Path, Zen, and Complete Fulfillment all close off such a conceptual
resolution on the grounds that it has no spiritual value.

Retracing Our Steps

It is also instructive to see why you are persevering with this essay and
the dilemma it is exposing, for it tells us something about how we live the
spiritual life.

We began this essay with the suggestion that the practice of Buddhism and
of spiritual inquiry in general can be problematic, and herein lies the
first clue to what has transpired. The claim that the spiritual life is
problematic has a particularly seductive pull to it. We are ready consumers
of the story that spiritual practice is demanding and difficult. We also
subscribe to the belief that the dynamics of spiritual evolution can be
subtle and mysterious. Consequently, in many of the traditions we have
mentioned it is necessary to commit oneself to a rigorous discipline and
consult a teacher if one is to successfully negotiate the spiritual path.

Further, the fact that this discussion appears in this publication adds to
the problematic nature of spirituality because serious papers typically
tackle "real" problems and work toward furthering our understanding of the
issues if not to resolving them. As readers of this article in this context
we are already poised to accept the suggestion that there are conflicting
approaches to living the spiritual life. We are spring-loaded, ready to
bite into any "deep issue" surrounding our spiritual activities.

In other words, our discussion has thus far been structured as "a problem"
for which we are seeking "a solution." In doing this we have done what we
always do. This is how we live our lives. We have created a problem--be it
conceptual, personal, or spiritual--and then set about trying to find a
solution for it. The earnestness and sincerity with which we read our
spiritual source books or even this essay belies the fact that the problem
this essay has constructed is our problem. Whether you have agreed or
disagreed with how we have set up the problem or with the specific
positions within our framework of discussion makes no difference, since it
all points to the fact that we are searching for understanding and some
degree of certainty.

So how did we construct this problem? First, we simply declared that the
role and function of spiritual inquiry is problematic and often ambiguous.
We then pointed to a divide between scholars and practitioners that most
people would recognize and acknowledge. We also personalized the problem by
suggesting that an earnest spiritual seeker quite legitimately and
appropriately finds her- or himself wondering from time to time whether the
best or most profitable spiritual activity is to do their sadhana--their
insight meditation, zazen, koan practice, etc.--or transform their regular
activities into a spiritual activity by adding the "right" type of attitude
or motivation, or just do what they are doing without any concern at all
that it is or is not a "spiritual" activity.

We then went on to suggest that two important sets of traditions--the
orthodox and unorthodox--have something of interest and value to say about
the role of spiritual inquiry. The high regard with which the
representative traditions are held helped to trigger the assessment that we
are dealing with a real and important issue, even though this flies in the
face of the fact that they say they have nothing to defend.

Having distinguished the orthodox and unorthodox approaches to spirituality
we then suggested that their positions were different. In fact we said that
they contradicted each other. Having juxtaposed these conflicting positions
we then invited you, the reader, into our dilemma. And as any clear thinker
knows, a dilemma is constricting and binding. A dilemma paralyses one. If
we are stuck inside a dilemma we cannot move easily and naturally! It is
uncomfortable to say the least! Having set the stage, we invited you into
the "important" task of seeking a solution to a real problem. This need, I
suggest, has provided the motivation for persevering with this essay up to
now.

Given that you have decided to continue, we now need to discover some means
of working toward increased clarity and resolution. Let us consider two
kinds of resolutions.

The Orthodox Resolution

Under the orthodox interpretation of Buddhism, the radical differences
between the orthodox and unorthodox versions of spirituality present us
with a problem that can be appreciated and resolved through recourse to the
distinction between insight (prajna) and method (upaya). Under this device
the different philosophies and systems of practice can be reconciled or
harmonized by the notion that different spiritual perspectives are needed
to penetrate the ultimate spiritual reality of egolesness (nairatmya) or
suchness (dharmata).

According to this theory, there is no right interpretation. Every
interpretation has a purpose and is validated through fulfilling that
purpose. Each interpretation is like a different story, the aim of which is
to awaken different listeners to the fact of who they are--their pains,
accomplishments, and possibilities.

In fact, we need look no further than kLong chen pa if we wish to
substantiate and validate this kind of orthodox resolution. In the very
same text that we have quoted at length where he is highly critical of the
value of spiritual methods, he describes and recommends a wide range of
meditative methods drawn from the Tibetan Expansive Career (Mahayana) and
Dynamic Transformation (tantra) tradition (Fenner 1994a).

If we consider the text as a unit we would conclude that he rejects that
meditative tools have any ultimate value while validating their capacity to
produce a whole range of experiences that support and facilitate realizing
the nature of reality itself (dharmata). An ultimately false connection is
drawn between these methods and spiritual awakening in order to introduce
students to a level of awakening that completely transcends the need for
further practice or strategic intervention.

A less-gratuitous explanation is that the methods are merely devices
(upaya) that give temporary satisfaction to the illusion that there is a
path, a goal, and something to do. As the fourteenth-century Chinese Zen
master Yuansou said, the expedient means "are all simply means of stopping
children from whining" (Cleary 1989, 77).

A related way to resolve the dilemma is to invoke the theory of two levels
of reality (satyadvaya). Under this interpretation, the orthodox methods
are valid but only at the relative level of truth (samvrti-satya). At this
level we are invited to believe that mindfulness practice, koans, and
paradoxical deconstruction are valid and effective within the fictitious
world that we create as a product of our interpretations. These ultimately
unnecessary practices allow us to break through the illusions of our
interpretations and directly experience the ultimate reality. In contrast,
the unorthodox traditions present the ultimate viewpoint (paramartha-satya)
in which there is no path, goal, or spiritual practice.

An extension of the above explanation that accounts for contradictory
philosophical frameworks is that such frameworks arise as corrections to
each other. For example, when our spiritual life is shaped by the belief
that there is something to do, this is viewed as a limit, and to balance
this belief we need to let things be as they are. Conversely, if we believe
that there is nothing to do at all, this is suitably balanced by a system
of praxis suggesting specific things to think or do. In this
interpretation, the orthodox and unorthodox emerge in contrast to each
other, as corrections to two extreme points of view. While these frameworks
do not present themselves in this way, it can be argued that they are
created as practitioners swing away from upholding one or another position
to the primary question of whether there is something specific they should
be doing. The reasons behind such a movement are usually the presence of
moods such as boredom, frustration, or some other form of dissatisfaction.

This might sound useful, and this or any other explanation could no doubt
be developed in an interesting way, but the real point here is that we are
just constructing another "orthodox" interpretation of the spiritual
endeavor in which methods of spiritual inquiry have a valued place.

Once we begin the standard talk about these positions being heuristic
devices (upaya) that provide the appropriate adjustment for people at
different points in their spiritual growth, we fall into the orthodox
extreme. In other words, if we say that the orthodox and unorthodox are
complementary approaches to the ultimate viewpoint that adheres to neither
one nor the other, we fall to the extreme of believing that we are located
on a path and heading for a goal. Similarly, if we invoke the theory of two
levels of reality, this signals that we have acceded to the orthodox
extreme, since it presupposes that there is something to attain, that is,
the ultimate viewpoint. In each of these orthodox interpretations, we are
seeking a resolution to the dilemma by trying to "explain" our way out of
it.

The important point to appreciate is that the need for these explanations
and the explanations themselves only arise within an orthodox orientation
to spirituality.

The Unorthodox Resolution

However plausible and satisfying these orthodox interpretations may be,
they do not resolve the problem we have constructed because such
interpretations are roundly rejected by the unorthodox systems and by those
sections of Complete Fulfillment, Complete Seal, and Zen texts where this
position is presented. According to the unorthodox interpretation there is
no problem to be resolved either in the spiritual life or in this article,
and hence a distinction between insight and methods is unnecessary and
irrelevant.

Whereas in orthodox systems the methods (upaya) give rise to insight
(prajna) or wisdom, in the unorthodox systems there is no difference
between wisdom and method.

As Manjusdmitra (1987, 61) says, "The state of pure and total presence of
the Joyful One does not exist, it is a magical apparition of that [state]
that appears to those who are deluded." If sublime or ecstatic experiences
occur, they occur simply because they occur. They have no significance.
They aren't indicative either of enlightenment or progress, since there is
nowhere to progress to. Experiences are experienced as what they are, as
lasting for as long as they last, and as changing into whatever follows
them. They occur without any theological and mystical fabrication.

If this perspective sounds attractive, it signals that we are sliding into
the unorthodox extreme in which there is nothing to do and nothing to get.

In summary, while we are now beginning to recognize how and when we fall
into either an orthodox or unorthodox extreme, we still do not know how to
resolve the fundamental dilemma of two contradicting interpretations of the
role and value of spiritual inquiry. Of course, whether or not we take this
seriously depends in turn on whether our perceptions at this point are
conditioned through orthodox or unorthodox eyes.

If we are still intent on persevering with this problem then we are located
within an orthodox framework. Alternatively we might be inclined at this
point to give up and declare that this game is absurd. Perhaps we recognize
that, yes, we have been caught in a structure of seeking a solution to a
fabricated problem but that now we can step outside this and see it for
what it is. However, in making this move we simply slide into an unorthodox
orientation.

Falling to the Extremes

If we are still in this and have not given up (i.e., become unorthodox),
then the problem that presents itself is to be in a way that does not fall
into either the orthodox or unorthodox extreme. However, immediately upon
trying to do this we fall into the orthodox extreme of "trying" to do or
not do something. On the other hand, if we just let things be as they are,
without any concern for observing how we might fall into these extremes, we
have fallen into the extreme of "letting go."

Perhaps our mistake is taking this notion of "falling to an extreme" too
seriously. Perhaps there is no such thing as an extreme at all. We might
declare that we are simply thinking what we are thinking when we think we
are falling to an extreme. In other words, thinking that we are falling to
an extreme is not "falling to an extreme," it is just thinking that we are
falling to an extreme. However this is a position that stands in contrast
to believing that we can fall to an extreme, and as a position it falls to
the unorthodox extreme of nonreferentiality and meaninglessness.

So, like it or not, it seems that we are left with the notion of falling to
an extreme. In fact, at this point it seems that all we can ever do is fall
to an extreme. If we want to forge ahead we fall to the orthodox extreme.
If we decide to give up, we fall to the unorthodox extreme.

Furthermore, as soon as we distinguish a middle ground from the extremes
this becomes a new extreme in the sense that the options are that we are
either in the middle or on the edge. We are either balanced or unbalanced,
appropriate or inappropriate. So to the extent that the middle ground is
the place where we should be, it becomes a pole in another dualistic
structure.

At this point we might be inclined to boldly declare that ultimately "there
is nothing to do or not to do," or that we are "neither orthodox or
unorthodox." However, if we do this in a mood of insight and understanding
we fall to the extreme of overvaluing what we are saying. We believe that
the binegation really says something and that we know what this is. If, on
the other hand we find that we are thrown into silence, or mouth a
binegation "knowing" that it really does not say anything, we fall to the
unorthodox extreme of meaninglessness and nonreferentiality.

I am going to close this essay now with two observations. The first is that
the question of when, how, and what would constitute finishing this article
only arises when one is positioned within an orthodox interpretation of the
role of spiritual inquiry. The second thing to say is that if one is
positioned within an unorthodox framework then the question of "finishing"
this article is totally irrelevant and nonsensical since there is nothing
for it to show, resolve, or demonstrate.

ABBREVIATIONS

BCA = Santideva, Introduction to the Evolved Lifestyle
(Bodhicaryavatara)

MA = Candrakirti, Introduction to the Middle Path
(Madhyamakavatara)

MABh = Candrakirti, Commentary on the Introduction to the Middle
Path (Madhyarnakavatara-bhasya)

MK = Nigarjuna, Principal Stanzas on the Middle Path
(Mulamadhya-makakarika)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank Ven. Traleg Rinpoche and David Templeman for
assistance in translating sections of kLong chen pa's Chos nyid rang grol,
which appear in the article. This article has also benefitted through the
presentation of sections at a "Festival of Tibet" sponsored by Buddhist
Studies at Columbia University and Tibet House in New York, the IXth World
Sanskrit Conference in Melbourne, Australia, and a graduate seminar at the
Saybrook Institute. I am also grateful to Professor Donald Rothberg for
detailed feedback and suggestions that have stimulated my own thinking and
improved this essay.

NOTES

1. I have thought about using different terms for these two broad
traditions, such as constructive--deconstructive, causal--acausal,
linear-nonlinear, and progressive-nonprogressive, but all of these suffer
in that there are always specific schools or traditions that are exceptions
to the usual meaning of these terms. For example, the Middle Path
(Madhyamika) is deconstructive, yet with respect to the distinction we are
creating, it is orthodox. For this reason, I have stuck with the terms
orthodox and unorthodox. However, in using these terms, we need to remember
that I am expanding the common usage of orthodox to include Buddhist
traditions that are normally thought of as radical and unorthodox, such as
Madhyamika, Tantra, and some approaches to Zen. Under our definition, these
traditions are orthodox because they presume that some activities are more
useful than others in supporting or causing spiritual insight.

2. To add room texture to these possibilities we may also wish to consider
whether spiritual inquiry is (1) always helpful (or harmful); (2) never
helpful (or harmful); or (3) helpful (or harmful) at some times and not at
others.

3. These are outlined in the Satipatthana-sutta, which is sutta number 10
in the Majjihima Nikaya. See Walpola Sri Rahula, (1974, 19-19), for an
abridged translation.

4. Ibid. p. 29.

5. Middle Pathers are traditionally divided into two types: Middle Pathers
who use paradoxes (Prasangika Madhyamika) and Middle Pathers who use their
own independent arguments (Svatantrika Madhyamika). Throughout this study
we use Middle Path and Middle Pathers in a generic sense.

6. This term often translates as emptiness. However, it does not signify
the absence of phenomena. Rather, it points to the phenomena as open and
lacking any substratum or core.

7. According to Middle Pathers, a state of liberation (moksa) or
unconditional freedom (nirvana) can only be gained through the skillful and
diligent use of paradoxical analysis (prasanga-vicara). Later Tibetan
philosophers and especially those of the dGe lugs pa school incorporate
this claim as a central tenet in their philosophical system. The founder of
the dGe lugs pa school, rJe Tsong ka pa, writes, for example, that
"analytical meditation is necessary, since without practicing analytical
meditation which cultivates the discriminating wisdom analysis of the
import of selflessness, meditative realization will not emerge. . . . One
seeks the understanding of selflessness repeatedly analyzing its meaning."
(Thurman 1982, 114). It should be pointed out that the picture here is
complicated by the fact that the dGe lugs pa's distinguish between a
conceptual and a nonconceptual insight into egolessness. This distinction,
though, is used in a confusing way. It is the conceptual insight that is
produced through logical analysis. This leaves us, however, with the
problem of how the conceptual insight is converted into a nonconceptual
insight. In response to this, Tsong ka pa seems to say that "inference is
necessarily conceptual, but can with repeated meditational familiarization
be brought to a level of nonconceptual experience," as quoted in Elizabeth
Napper (1989, 136). If analysis (equals inference) is a necessary factor in
bringing the conceptual insight to the level of a nonconceptual insight,
then the distinction in no way provides a solution for the problem we are
addressing. If, on the other hand, analysis is immaterial to the
conversion, we are squarely back with our original problem. Is the
conversion causal or acausal?

A number of western scholars of the Middle Way agree with the assessment
that analysis produces insight. Frederick Streng, (1967, 156), has written
that "dialectical activity is reality-being-realized." Robert A. F. Thurman
(1984, 126), says, for example, that "enlightenment as wisdom is perfected
as the culmination of the most refined rational inquiry, not at the cost of
reason."

8. Santideva, in his Introduction to the Evolved Lifestyle (BCA), similarly
claims that Middle Path analysis leads to liberation. In reply to a concern
that analysis could get bogged down in an infinite regress with no natural
conclusion, he writes (9.111), "Once an object of investigation has been
investigated, there is no basis for investigation. Since there is no basis
[further analysis] does not arise, and that is called unconditional freedom
(nirvana)."

9. These are the same as Aristotle's "laws of thought."

10. See MK 10.14 and 22.1 and MA 6.121-165. For a detailed reconstruction
of this analysis, see Peter Fenner (1991, 54-73). A contemporary
interpretation of Middle Path analysis appears in Peter Fennet, 1994b.

11. See Peter Fenner (1991, 122-127).

12. Candrakirti also says (MABh: 100.12) that "there isn't an existence
separate from the two (gnyis ka clang bral ba yod pa , . . ma yin) [of
existence and nonexistence]

13. The first book of kLong chen pa's Trilogy, titled Sems nyid rang grol,
has been translated twice, by Herbert V. Guenther (1975), and also by Tulku
Thondup Rinpoche as "Naturally Liberated Mind" (1989, 316-54).

14. The lives of the masters from the Complete Seal and Complete
Fulfillment traditions make very interesting reading. They provide another
window on the unorthodox expressions of Buddhist enlightenment, Sample
literature includes David Templeman, trans. (1983; 1989; 1992, 309-13);
Keith Dowman (1985; 1988).

15. In earlier sections, he also refutes the methods of Buddhist tantra.

16. There is no point in trying to track these back to the Middle Path or
Complete Fulfillment, because both traditions have advocated most of these
attitudes at one time or another.

REFERENCES

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-----. 1991. Madhyamakavatara. English translation in Peter Fenner, The
Ontology of the Middle Way. Dordrecht, Holland: Kluwer.

Cleary, Thomas, trans. 1989. Zen essence: The science of freedom. Boston:
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Conze, Edward, ed. 1954. Buddhist texts through the ages. New York: Harper
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-----. 1988. Masters of enchantment--The lives and legends of the
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Fenner, Peter. 1991. The ontology of the Middle Way. Dordrecht, Holland:
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-----. 1994a. "Existential psychology and the Complete Fulfillment (rDzogs
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-----. 1994b. Reasoning into reality--A systems-cybernetics and therapeutic
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Fenner, Peter, and Penny Fennet. 1994. Intrinsic freedom The art of stress
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-----. 1993. Insight meditation--The practice of freedom. Boston:
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~~~~~~~~

By PETER FENNER

Peter Fenner, Ph.D., is a senior lecturer in philosophy and religious
studies at Deakin University in Australia. He has lectured in Buddhism and
East-West psychology at universities in Australia and the United States.
His books include The Ontology of the Middle Way (Dordrecht, Holland:
Kluwer, 1990), Reasoning into Reality (Boston: Wisdom, 1994), and, with
Penny Fenner, Intrinsic Freedom (Australia: Millenium Press, 1994). He was
a Buddhist monk in the Tibetan tradition for nine years and is presently
teaching innovative courses based on the perspective of the Middle Path
(Madhyamika) and Complete Fulfillment (rDzogs chen).
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