The Buddhist concepts of no-self and emptiness are central to Buddhist philosophy and are closely related. Both challenge the way we ordinarily perceive the self and the world, leading to a profound understanding that underlies much of Buddhist practice and wisdom.
1. The Concept of No-Self
No-Self is the doctrine that there is no permanent, unchanging self or soul in living beings. This concept is a direct challenge to the idea of an eternal, independent self or “I” that persists unchanged through time. At the time of the Buddha, the prevalent idea in Brahminism and Hinduism was that there was a permanent entity inhabiting our bodies–a soul–that acted as a time traveler going from life to life and carrying with it a record (called our karma) of our deeds—“good” deeds meant a better rebirth, “bad” deeds would result in a punitive next life.
Key Points of Anatta:
Impermanence (Anicca): All phenomena, including what we consider the “self,” are impermanent and subject to change. The body ages, thoughts and emotions arise and pass away, and even our sense of identity shifts over time.
Dependent Origination (Pratītyasamutpāda): The self is not an independent entity but a product of a series of interconnected causes and conditions. What we perceive as “self” is actually a collection of five aggregates (skandhas) — form, sensation, perception, mental formations, and consciousness — which come together temporarily.
Non-Self Nature: Because the self is merely a label for this collection of aggregates, there is no single, enduring entity that can be identified as “I” or “me.” This understanding helps to break down the attachment to the ego, leading to liberation from suffering (dukkha).
Practical Implications:
Realizing anatta leads to a decrease in selfish desires and attachments, as there is no permanent “self” to cling to or protect. This understanding helps reduce suffering and promotes compassion for others.
Anatta encourages mindfulness and a deeper understanding of the transient nature of experiences, reducing the grip of negative emotions like anger, fear, and greed.
2. The Concept of Emptiness (Śūnyatā)
Śūnyatā is often translated as “emptiness,” (also as voidness, suchness, vacuity, nothingness, et al) but it can be misleading if understood as a nihilistic concept. Instead, emptiness in Buddhism refers to the absence of inherent, independent existence in all phenomena. It is “Lacking permanence.”
Key Points of Śūnyatā:
Emptiness of Inherent Existence: All things, including the self, do not exist independently but are empty of a separate, permanent essence. Everything is interconnected and interdependent, arising through a clustering in perception.
Madhyamaka Philosophy: Nagarjuna, an important Buddhist philosopher, emphasized that emptiness is not nothingness but rather the middle way between existence and non-existence. He argued that all phenomena are “empty” of inherent nature, which allows them to exist in a dependent, relational way.
Emptiness as Liberation: Understanding emptiness helps in seeing the true nature of reality, which is not bound by fixed identities or rigid concepts. This insight frees one from attachment and aversion, leading to the cessation of suffering.
Practical Implications:
– Emptiness helps practitioners develop a more fluid, flexible approach to life, letting go of rigid views and the attachment to fixed concepts of self and others.
– It promotes wisdom (prajñā) by encouraging a deeper investigation into the nature of reality, revealing the interconnectedness of all things.
– Emptiness supports compassion (karuṇā) by recognizing that since all beings are empty of independent existence, their suffering is also interconnected, motivating us to alleviate it.
Relationship Between No-Self and Emptiness
The concepts of no-self and emptiness are intimately connected:
No-Self as Emptiness of Self: The idea of anatta can be seen as the application of emptiness to the concept of self. Just as all phenomena are empty of inherent existence, the self is empty of any fixed, unchanging essence.
Emptiness Beyond the Self: While anatta specifically addresses the nature of self, śūnyatā extends this emptiness to all phenomena, including objects, concepts, and even the teachings themselves. Everything is seen as empty of inherent existence.
Conclusion
Both no-self and emptiness are central to Buddhist thought and practice, offering a transformative perspective on the nature of reality. By understanding and internalizing these concepts, practitioners can move beyond delusions of a permanent self and the fixed nature of the world, leading to greater patience, compassion, wisdom, and a lessening of suffering.
WHAT IS EMPTINESS?
Emptiness is the way things really are, in an absolute sense. It is the way things exist as opposed to the conventional way they appear. We naturally believe that the things we see around us, such as tables, chairs and houses are truly existent, because we believe that they exist in exactly the way that they appear.
However, the way things appear to our senses is deceptive and completely contradictory to the way in which they ultimately exist. Things appear to exist from their own side, without depending upon our mind. This computer, for example, seems to have its own independent, objective existence. It seems to be ‘outside’ whereas our mind seems to be ‘inside’. We feel that the computer can exist without our mind; we do not feel that our mind is in any way involved in bringing the book into existence.
Although things appear directly to our senses to be truly, or inherently, existent, in reality all phenomena lack, or are empty of, true existence. This computer, our body, our friends, we ourself, and the entire universe are in reality just appearances to mind, like things seen in a dream.
If we dream of an elephant, the elephant appears vividly in all its detail – we can see it, hear it, smell it and touch it – but when we wake up we realize that it was just an appearance to mind. We do not wonder ‘Where is the elephant now?’, because we understand that it was simply a projection of our mind and had no existence outside our mind. When the dream awareness that apprehended the elephant ceased, the elephant did not go anywhere – it simply disappeared, for it was just an appearance to the mind and did not exist separately from the mind.
Buddha said that the same ultimate bodhicitta is true for all phenomena; they are mere appearances to mind, totally dependent upon the minds that perceive them. The world we experience when we are awake and the world we experience when we are dreaming are both mere appearances to mind that arise from our mistaken conceptions. If we want to say that the dream world is false, we also have to say that the waking world is false; and if we want to say that the waking world is true, we also have to say that the dream world is true. The only difference between them is that the dream world is an appearance to our subtle dreaming mind whereas the waking world is an appearance to our gross waking mind. The dream world exists only for as long as the dream awareness to which it appears exists, and the waking world exists only for as long as the waking awareness to which it appears exists.
Buddha said: “You should know that all phenomena are like dreams.” When we die, our gross waking minds dissolve into our very subtle mind and the world we experienced when we were alive simply disappears. The world as others perceive it will continue, but our personal world will disappear as completely and irrevocably as the world of last night’s dream.
Buddha also said that all phenomena are like illusions. There are many different types of illusion, such as mirages, rainbows or drug-induced hallucinations. In ancient times, there used to be magicians who would cast a spell over their audience, causing them to see objects, such as a piece of wood, as something else, such as a tiger. Those deceived by the spell would see what appeared to be a real tiger and develop fear, but those who arrived after the spell had been cast would simply see a piece of wood.
What all illusions have in common is that the way they appear does not coincide with the way they exist. Buddha likened all phenomena to illusions because, through the force of the imprints of self-grasping ignorance accumulated since beginningless time, whatever appears to our mind naturally appears to be truly existent and we instinctively assent to this appearance, but in reality everything is totally empty of true existence.
Like a mirage that appears to be water but is not in fact water, things appear in a deceptive way. Not understanding their real nature we are fooled by appearances, and grasp at books and tables, bodies and worlds as truly existent. The result of grasping at phenomena in this way is that we develop self-cherishing, attachment, anger, jealousy and other delusions, our mind becomes agitated and unbalanced, and our peace of mind is destroyed. We are like travelers in a desert who exhaust themselves running after mirages, or like someone walking down a road at night mistaking the trees and shadows for criminals and wild animals waiting to attack.
Practicing with Emptiness
Once we pass the point of being novices in our practice, we see that emptiness is at the core of the dharma. For many students, the word itself is problematic. It is only later in their practice that they realize the reason they struggle with the word is that it too is empty. For now, let’s not make the word an obstacle to understanding this critically important Mahayana teaching.
Let’s start by looking at what emptiness means. Emptiness means that the things around us (animal, vegetable and mineral; people, places and events; thoughts, ideas and concepts) don’t have any set definition or value, don’t have any inherent meaning in and off themselves. Whatever meaning they do have is because we have assigned it to them.
We know this, at least on the most basic level, because we know that we can change the meaning of something: sometimes it is good to sleep in late, other times not (sleeping is empty); sometimes I think I look great, other times not (my appearance is empty). In fact, because things are empty we can change the story, the description we have of that thing. Empty means anyone can assign whatever definition or meaning or value they want to what’s happening. And that means we can learn to rewrite our stories in ways that reduce and end our pain and suffering.
What about stories that everyone agrees on, aren’t they true? In the 6th century BC the Greeks determined that the world was round and measured the circumference of the earth pretty accurately, yet Europeans as a whole continued to believe that the world was flat until the 17th century. The Alexandrians had measured the circumference of the earth with remarkable accuracy in the 1st century BC, yet with the burning the great library and the beginning of the Christian era, the world became flat, flat, flat, again. Even if everyone seems to agree on a single story, that doesn’t make it true or permanent; it is still empty. It is still just a story. However, “accurate” understandings of the everyday world from stories are important and useful, as we’ll see.
Emptiness is empty of story, empty of inherent and always-the-same meaning and value. It does not suggest that the object doesn’t exist. My car isn’t a good car or a bad car, it just depends on how I view it. When it is running well, it’s a good car; when it breaks down, it’s a bad car. The knowledge that on an ultimate, empty level, it’s not even “a car” until I call it that, doesn’t mean, however, that it doesn’t exist. Of course it exists. “Car,” though is just a label, a story.
So being “empty” isn’t a denial that things exist. Rather it is an understanding that we superimpose upon ourselves–and on things around us–a false existence, a self-existence or essential reality that actually does not exist at all–a story about who we are and about the definitions, meaning of values of the things around us.
What is emptiness? Emptiness is the way things really are, in an absolute sense. It is the way things exist as opposed to the conventional way they appear. We naturally believe that the things we see around us, such as tables, chairs and houses are truly existent, because we believe that they exist in exactly the way that they appear.
However, the way things appear to our senses is deceptive and completely contradictory to the way in which they ultimately exist. Things appear to exist from their own side, without depending upon our mind. This computer, for example, seems to have its own independent, objective existence. It seems to be “outside” whereas our mind seems to be “inside.” We feel that the computer can exist without our mind; we do not feel that our mind is in any way involved in bringing the book into existence.
Although things that appear directly to our senses to be truly existent, in reality all phenomena lack, or are empty of, true existence. This computer, our body, our friends, and the entire universe are in reality just appearances to mind, like things seen in a dream.
On another level, though, we know that things are empty because we know that everything is impermanent, and being impermanent, everything is therefore interconnected. [How we know this will be the topic of a future blog.]
So why do we care? For two crucial reasons: Until we understand that there are two truths, a conventional truth, which is our understanding of things from our everyday perspective, our story-telling, and that there is also an ultimate truth, that things really don’t exist on their own as we seem to perceive them, that things really aren’t separate and solid as our senses imply, that in fact everything is ultimately interrelated and interconnected, we cannot (1) develop a moral code that allows us to distinguish between right and wrong, and (2) we cannot meaningfully learn to reduce and finally end our suffering. [Look for a further explanation of this in a future blog.]
Before explaining a simple way to practice with emptiness to reduce our suffering, even when we are experiencing “big dukkha,” even with events as intense as the death of a child or a terminal cancer diagnosis, I would like to offer Guy Newland’s analogy from Introduction to Emptiness. If this blog has at all wetted your appetite for more about emptiness, go to Newland’s book. He writes:
I concocted for my students the analogy of two radio stations. Channel A is “all things considered radio.” This is our regular, conventional channel, and on it we get all kinds of information about the diversity and complexity of the world. Perhaps today they are airing a fierce debate: the proponents of red cars are angry, in a raging controversy with the proponents of blue cars. Normally we listen only to this station, so we take it all at face value and without deeper scrutiny. We are unaware that there is or could be any other channel. But in fact there is a second station, broadcast on channel B, the ultimate perspective. Channel B’s programming is “all emptiness, all the time radio.” Every phenomenon is presented only from the point of view of its ultimate nature. But when we tune into this channel, all of the detailed information from the other channel is unavailable. From the perspective of ultimate reality, red cars and blue cars are equally and exclusively empty [they are not even “cars.”].
Channel B, emptiness radio, adds new information and a deeper perspective on what is being discussed on the conventional channel. It shows that the things discussed on channel A definitely do not exist in the way that they are ordinarily presented [as solid, separate, and having an essential nature].
When we come back to channel A after tuning in to B, we now understand just how it is that channel A is merely conventional; it is not the only or final perspective. But this new information does not, of course, prove that red cars are in all ways identical to blue cars. [Nor does channel B tell us of the nonexistence of an essentially existent car, that there are no cars]. We still have to make distinctions and make choices about what, if anything, to drive. Channel B alone does not allow us to make practical distinctions, so we still need the information from channel A.
Each gives correct information about its domain.
Conventional realities are not wiped out by…emptiness. The problem of knowing which car to drive is the general problem of how to choose between possible courses of action. It is the question of how empty persons can make distinctions between right and wrong. [The great 14th century Tibetan lama] Tsong-kha-pa shows that answering this question requires distinguishing between two types of knowledge about persons, as well as cars and other things.
Most of us live rather exclusively listening to channel A. We see the world as seemingly permanent and separate. When my eyes make contact with the plant in my office, I say to myself, “I see the plant.” Pure channel A–me here, plant there, separate and each solid and existent on its own. When I don’t get what I want, when things don’t go my way, I get mad. Again, pure channel A.
This leads us to unending and unendable dukkha, to problems with everything. As Newland points out, when we listen to channel A we become unaware of channel B. To move significantly along the path toward peacefulness, we must develop an awareness of channel B running in the background, behind the information from channel A that we need to live everyday lives, make distinctions (we need to be able to distinguish between a son and a husband, for example), and we need these distinctions to be of value and benefit to our families, friends, communities, and so on.
And therein lies the practice. Instead of locking into and listening exclusively to channel A, which even when “accurate” is black-and-white, rigid and problematic, say to yourself–whenever you notice there is dukkha, whenever you notice that you are getting upset or angry: “Where is channel B here?”
Whether it is big dukkha: the death of a child or parent, a terminal illness, the loss of a job or house, or little dukkha, noticing a ding on the car door, the moment your body sends you a signal that dukkha is arising (and it is often easier to notice it in the body than the mind), just ask yourself, “Where’s Channel B here?” and you regain your footing on the Middle Path and the dukkha dissolves.
In these examples, the wisdom of emptiness on channel B lets us see beyond our sense of loss to a greater understanding that aging and death are part of every process. This lessons our attachment to “my” loss and allows for grieving rather than self-indulgence. With a terminal illness, channel B redirects our attention from wanting things to be otherwise to being present and doing what is most beneficial, allowing us to see clearly and feel peaceful as we pick wellness strategies. Similarly, a ding, channel B tells us, is simply a chip in the paint on a piece of plastic–I can get it fixed, or not, as is appropriate, without making it personal, without attaching and suffering.
“Where’s channel B here?” That’s the practice. Having the wisdom to keep an awareness of channel B while going about our lives in a channel A world.