This vile body

“What is there to see in this vile body? He who sees Dhamma … sees me…” (Samyutta Nikaya, 22.87).

There seems to be is an inherent contradiction between Buddhist monks’/nuns’ needing a body in order to meditate enough to become enlightened but not wanting to be (re)born, have sex or children, have possessions, kill for food, fight in the military, etc. They need to be here (because humans have sufficient intellectual complexity to understand their existential predicament and how to fix it), but they don’t want to be here. They have to use humanity, in other words, to serve their purpose, but they don’t actually like/want human life very much.

Would science corrupt nirvana?

Most science and technology do not contain any inherent ethics or morality. It is up to people to behave ethically or morally with scientific knowledge and technologies, and history contains many examples of people using science or technology unethically or immorally (e.g., using nuclear bombs and chemical weapons, using the Internet to facilitate human trafficking and child porn, dumping large quantities of plastic into the oceans or burning plastic even though the smoke is obviously toxic, etc.)

This is different than Buddhism, where only people who are very pure of heart/mind are usually mentally capable of attaining nirvana/nibbana. The universe seems to have a kind of natural safeguard around nirvana/nibbana, in other words. Sometimes I wonder (obviously, since I haven’t attained enlightenment) if monks/nuns who have advanced meditation abilities should be hesitant to help scientists understand or measure nirvana/nibbana, citta, karma/kamma, gandhabbas, etc., because if a machine can measure or affect these things, then anyone might be able to attain them, exploit them, destroy them, etc. Nirvana might be safer as long as it remains shrouded in religious mystery.

Why choose a conqueror’s religion?

Especially as societies become more free/liberal and people have more of a choice, I find it curious that so many people around the world still choose to embrace the religions of conquerors. Christians and Muslims in particular have colonized, conquered, enslaved, and/or forcibly or coercively converted large parts of the Earth and many indigenous peoples over the last few thousand years. But still today Africans, Central and South Americans, South Asians, and Southeast Asians (and their descendents and diasporas around the world) in particular frequently convert to, and/or seem very passionate about, those religions. And as far as I can tell, they’re not always just paying lipservice to those religions (e.g., superficially following those religions in order to get some benefit or reward from the conquerors). So why do those people reject their native religions, or why don’t they follow more peaceful world religions?

To my clear, my complaint is about certain religions, not about God(s). A person can interact with God(s) either in a spiritual way without traditions or from within the conceptual frameworks of many large, old religions; it doesn’t have to happen within the framework of Christianity or Islam. Themes of violence, conquest, domination, superiority, etc. run deep/old especially in Christian and Islamic cultures. I think people should be wary and skeptical of those kinds of themes, and I want to point out that there are other major world traditions (e.g., Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Bahai, Sikhism, Taoism, etc.) as well as local/indigenous traditions that either lack those themes or have them to a much lesser extent.

Two competing views of Buddhist nirvana

As I understand, here are the Mahayana and Theravada conceptions of nirvana/nibbana:


As do several later schools of Hinduism, notably Advaita Vedanta, with which Mahayana/Madhyamika philosophy may have merged to some degree over the millenia, Mahayana thinks that the relativistic, dualistic (self vs. other) reality in which we live is not real. Though both Mahayana and Theravada would probably agree that our current reality is empty of a permanent/stable essence, because everything in this world somehow depends on something else (e.g., consciousness depends on the body, the body depends on molecules and atoms, etc.), Mahayana claims that our current reality is not only impermanent/unstable but is totally unreal — a collective delusion or illusion, resulting from us having forgotten that we are all already enlightened and are actually one big, unified/monistic, real Mind (variously called absolute reality, Buddha-nature, Tathagata-garbha, etc.). As such, it was/is possible for the many past Buddhas and Bodhisattvas to come and go between nirvana and samsara, and to create and destroy dualistic worlds (such as Pure Lands, where it is supposedly as easy as possible to attain nirvana), as they please. Attaining nirvana makes one like a God in this world.


There are two states of matter/energy existing right next to each other, which rarely interact (similar to dark matter vs. regular matter): one is more permanent and stable (nibbana), one is more impermanent and unstable (our reality, called samsara). Both samsara and nibbana are real, though living beings may misperceive or misunderstand them, and both have their pros and cons. The cons of living in samsara are things like old age, sickness, death, loss, pain, fear, vulnerability, etc., but the pros are that it can be fun, exciting, pleasurable, etc. Nibbana is basically the opposite of samsara: no old age, sickness, death, etc., but it is also very still and lacking pleasure or pain. In that they are quite different states of matter/energy, a person cannot easily come and go between them. The samsaric body must die before an enlightened mind (having extinguished kamma/karma and totally let go of this world) can transfer into a nibbanic state (called parinibbana), and nibbanic beings apparently cannot or do not transfer back into samsara. When the Buddha became enlightened, his mind could only see nibbana from this world, like looking across a river at the other shore. His samsaric body had to die for his mind to somehow join with or become nibbanic matter/energy. The Buddha was just a man who discovered something great (i.e., a way for the mind to apparently live forever without suffering). He was/is not some kind of God — when Theravada Buddhists “worship” the Buddha, they are typically trying to gain karmic merit for themselves by doing something good or noble, not trying to interact with the Buddha (because nibbanic beings do not interact with samsaric beings; they just set an example for samsaric beings to emulate) — and nibbana is not an absolute essence for samsara.

The feelings of different religions’ temples

In my experience, different religions’ temples have different feelings, partly due to architectural designs and partly due to something spiritual/ineffable. Abrahamic churches, mosques, and synagogues usually give me a feeling of the enormity and maybe heavenliness, but not so much the presence, of God. Hindu devalayas/kovils/etc. give me a more localized feeling of some kind of presence or energy/power of a certain divine being. Buddhist viharas, especially bodhi trees, give me a feeling of choiceful peacefulness and radiant energy, like there is a powerful mind which is choosing to set a peaceful example for everyone.

Fortress mind

“Luminous, O monks, is the mind. And it is defiled by incoming defilements” (Pabhassara Sutta, AN 1.49-52).

“By effort and heedfulness, discipline and self-mastery, let the wise one make for himself an island which no flood can overwhelm” (Dhammapada 25).

One particularly useful type of meditation is visualizing a castle wall around the mind, or that the mind is on a high mountain (perhaps an inactive volcano) on a deserted island, or something similar. Outside the wall is the din of the dualistic world: sounds, sights, thoughts and feelings that have arisen automatically/karmically, etc. bombard the mind’s peacefulness. Inside the wall is completely silent and still, as close to a nirvanic state as possible. Especially in noisy, stressful environments, this meditation can be very soothing.

Eliminating personal pronouns

One problem a Buddhist often encounters in daily life is that, though Buddhist meditations and philosophies quickly lead to the conclusion that the self is an illusion or delusion, most non-Buddhists assume that, and speak as if, the self is real [enough]. Perhaps the main way in which one encounters this is by the use of personal pronouns (I, me, my, you, we, he, she, they, etc.). Therefore, here are several examples of how one can avoid personal pronouns, in order to make one’s speech more Buddhist:

  • Use the passive: I prefer this one. -> This one is preferable.
  • Use participles: I went to the store, and the shelves were empty. -> Having gone to the store, the shelves were empty.
  • Replace the pronoun with an impersonal one: My head hurts. -> This head hurts. (admittedly awkward)
  • Remove the pronoun: I have a headache. -> [point to the head, maybe make a pained look, and say:] Headache.

A Buddhist critique of God’s/Gods’ eternity

The following is a Buddhist critique of the common theistic idea that God(s) is/are eternal. Eternity means constancy — that something always remains the same. For example, if something eternal is speaking, then it must always have spoken and must always continue to speak, forever. If something spoke eternally, it would also not be able to make more than one sound forever. Although the Abrahamic “I am that I am (or that I will be)” suggests constancy, were an eternal being actually to speak, it would not be able to say more than one sound/word (e.g., “I”), and it would always have been speaking that sound/word and would still be speaking that word today, tomorrow, etc. It could not stop and start speaking, such as to pronounce multiple or even polysyllabic words, because then it would have changed from a time/state when it was not speaking to a time/state when it was speaking and vice versa.

Therefore, as I understand, from a Buddhist perspective, claims that God(s) spoke at great length (e.g., giving entire holy books and many commandments), or that God(s) did some temporary corporeal action (e.g., bringing plagues or floods, destroying cities, writing on stone tablets, etc.) are highly suspect. If they truly are descriptive of a real being — though that being could be immensely big, powerful, old, etc. — that being cannot be eternal, because, by doing those things, it changed.

Living a more refined life

Buddhist meditation techniques usually seem to me to be a way of experiencing life in a more refined, subtle way. One usually moves from counting or naming things, to noting things in silence, to softening and quietening one’s mind more and more. There is a movement from more crass, loud, agitated, etc. experiences to more subtle, refined, quiet, still, etc. experiences.