“Mind precedes all mental states. Mind is their chief; they are all mind-wrought” (Dhammapada 1, Acharya Buddharakkhita translation).
“Phenomena are preceded by the heart, ruled by the heart, made of the heart” (Dhammapada 1, Thanissaro Bhikkhu translation).
Here are three different ways of interpreting that famous first line of the Dhammapada:
- (A possibly animist or creationist interpretation:) There apparently exists an outside world independent of my mind, and the arrangements or configurations of most/all things in that world apparently result from the activities of human and non-human minds. For example, my house exists because many people in the past have thought that humans should live in houses for various reasons (protection from weather, animals, thieves, etc.); thought of ways to construct and sell a house in the climate, society, etc. where I live; and then constructed it. How far out/back you want to abstract this idea to nature or the universe is up to you. The Buddha didn’t offer a view about the origins of the universe.
- (A constructivist/phenomenological interpretation popular among Western Theravadists today:) Though there probably exists an outside world independent of our minds, no one can see it directly; we can each see only our own mind. Everything we see is a mind-state, a construction of our body-mind complex – mental output based on sensory input. When you think you’re seeing yourself or a world out there, all you’re really seeing are poorly measured, heavily subjectively biased mental constructs/fabrications of how the self or world might be. The only way to maybe see absolute reality is to remove one’s subjective biases through meditation and simple/ethical living, going deeper and deeper into the mind, until one can see reality clearly.
- (A later-Buddhism, possibly Vedanta-influenced interpretation:) The external world is literally made of/by mind, and has no existence except to the degree that our minds create it. In reality, there is only a single, monistic, cosmic Mind (e.g., Buddha-nature), which manifests itself as this dualistic world because it has somehow forgotten its true nature and/or developed dualistic cravings. When people realize/remember that true nature, they can wake up from this delusional dream we’re all living in.
Why don’t more people use religious canonical or liturgical languages in everyday speech (e.g., Hebrew, Greek, or Aramaic for Christians; Pali or Sanskrit for Buddhists; etc.), so that they can think in the same terms as the founder(s) of their religion and unite with like-minded people around the world? Besides the tendency for modern societies to be secular, I suspect it is because many people and governments value their nation, ethnic group, or local culture more than their philosophy or religion. Modern languages often have some historical basis in a canonical or liturgical language, but they usually have evolved in the context of a specific nation or group, and have not been synchronized with other local languages.
It seems to me that all of the theories/conceptions I have heard or read about nibbana/nirvana boil down to this question: is it something or nothing?
That is, if one attains the meditative state of Nirodha-Samapatti, and their body dies while their mind is in that state, does that mind survive in some form, or does it nihilistically end in such a way that it is not reborn?
The two elder, learned Theravada bhikkhus to whom I have posed this question, one Sinhalese and one Thai, have both told me that nirvana is something, that there is some kind of eternal, unchanging, motionless consciousness in that state, which they said is better than the constant struggle of this world.
What do you think?
Experiences of thoughts, feelings, and actions, even when pleasurable, usually require some energy, involve some stress, and arise in response to stressful situations: talking or playing music to fill socially awkward silences or to avoid unpleasant feelings; eating, sleeping, etc. to satiate biological needs or seek pleasure; working to make a living, pay for education, buy entertainments, etc.; feeling anxiety from social or natural pressures; feeling depression from hopelessness or weariness; and so on.
Though one can try to avoid or minimize stressful situations, one can also minimize stress by refusing to create more thoughts, feelings, or actions than necessary. For example, if one must, one can speak only softly and in an emotionally monotone way, drive or walk as slowly and calmly as possible, eat simple foods without seasoning, do other biological things in a routine way as little as necessary to stay healthy, and minimize expenses so that you can minimize how much you have to work. If one embraces them, peace and quiet can be perhaps the purest forms of happiness.