Showing posts with label aimlessness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aimlessness. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 15, 2025

Who Is the Boss?

 

https://plumvillage.org/articles/blog/monastic/who-is-the-boss


Excerpt:

Aimlessness, Busi-less-ness
Aimlessness doesn’t mean we are just roaming or floating about like a boat on the ocean without a rudder, being thrown hither and thither. No, we bring our mind home to our body, we are fully present with what we are doing, for the sheer joy of doing it. When we are fully present while doing something, it is joyful, it is nourishing. We are our most beautiful self. We’ll have a result. We may even say, “I want to go in this direction.” But while we are doing it, we are not lost in “I want to get there, I want to get there, I want to get there.” With that kind of state of mind, we are not truly in the present moment; we are trying to be in the future, which is not possible. The only moment we can be in is the present moment.  To be present, to practice aimlessness, is being our most beautiful self.

Wednesday, January 8, 2025

Just do your best, don’t expect anything in return! (Jan 09, 1997) – Thich Nhat Hanh's Talks

Just do your best, don’t expect anything in return! (Jan 09, 1997) – Thich Nhat Hanh's Talks

Transcript

The three doors of liberation are the three doors that lead to freedom, to leisureliness. Over here, “freedom” is termed “leisureliness”. Leisureliness means not being bound up with anything — be it afflictions or work to do. Even work for the sangha. The three doors of leisureliness are Emptiness, Signlessness, and Aimlessness. Today we’ll cover the basics of Aimlessness.

Aimlessness — in Sanskrit, “apranihita,” means we don’t put an object in front of us in order to run after that object. It’s called “aimlessness.” In our daily life, we usually put a wish, or a desire, in front of us to be an object. And we run after that object of desire. That’s going against the spirit of aimlessness. Aimlessness means we see that all the conditions for happiness, all that we wish for, are already here, in the present moment. And for that reason, we can really stop, we stop running after, or pursuing, an object — that’s aimlessness.

Aimlessness, or wishlessness. They mean the same. The person who aims for nothing, the person who realizes aimlessness, the person who realizes wishlessness, is someone who starts having happiness. But if they haven’t realized aimlessness, haven’t realized wishlessness, they’re still pursuing, they’re still running after objects of craving and desire, thinking “if I can’t have that object, that condition, I can never be truly happy.”

Let each of us look deeply to see if we’re pursuing anything. Are we able to dwell peacefully in the leisureliness of aimlessness? Or are we thinking, “As long as I’m not finished building this temple, I can never feel happy“? Or, “As long as I haven’t got that degree, I can never feel happy“? Or, “As long as I haven’t got these conditions, or those conditions, happiness will never be possible“?

Let us look at ourselves again to see if we’ve really stopped. It means, to see if we have the peace and leisureliness of aimlessness yet? Are we someone who’s already stopped? Or are we someone who’s still running after something? If we’re still running after something, it means there’s not peace and leisureliness of aimlessness yet.

Each and every one of us must contemplate this. Today, we’ll spend twenty-four hours contemplating if we’re someone who’s still running after an object, or someone who’s already stopped. A person who’s just been ordained as a novice can also have as much happiness as their elder Dharma siblings. Don’t think that only when we’re fully-ordained as a bhikkhu, can we be happy. A person who’s just ordained as a bhikkhu, meanwhile, should think, being ordained as a bhikkhu is already a great happiness. They don’t need to move up to a Dharma teacher position to be happy.

In the social ladder, people never feel fulfilled or satisfied with what they’re having. And they’re always looking toward and running after the next thing. So the running and competing never end. And because of that, people never have happiness. So, if you aspire to follow the Buddha and practice his teachings, receiving the Five Mindfulness Trainings proves to be more than enough to make you happy. Or receiving the Ten Mindfulness Trainings also proves to be more than enough to make you happy.

Don’t wait to be happy. Waiting. Searching. Pursuing. These actions demonstrate that we haven’t attained the third kind of leisureliness of the three doors of liberation, which is the leisureliness of aimlessness. The term that Thay have found, the new term that Thay have just found to translate the word “aimlessness” more precisely is “non-expectation.” Because before that, we translated the Vietnamese term for this, “vô tác,” as aimlessness. Which means, “no need for an aim,” “no need for an object to run after.” Or “wishlessness” — with “wish” meaning longing, or yearning. Wishlessness.

But after Thay found the term “no expectation,” we see that the term “vô tác” has a… It encompasses a very big object of meditation. “No expectation” means don’t wait for anything. Let’s say, we love someone. We do everything we can for them… Whatever they need us to do, we’ll do. But we’ll do it in the spirit of “vô tác,” not expecting anything. Zero expectation.

Whether that person is grateful to us, or not grateful to us, we don’t need that. Whether that person is nice to us or not nice to us, that’s not important. What’s more important is whether we’re nice to that person, whether we do whatever we can for that person. When we’re done, that’s it. Don’t expect anything in return. It’s called, “no expectation.” Which is “not expecting anything in return,” “not anticipating a result.”

We usually hear people say that Bodhisattvas are those who only focus on sowing wholesome seeds, or causes. On the other hand, living beings don’t focus on sowing wholesome seeds but on the fruiting, the consequences. What does “focusing on sowing wholesome seeds and causes” mean? It means, we know that there are things we can do right away, today. If we do what needs to be done today, if we do all that we can today, tomorrow, blossoms and fruits will come and serve us well.

For that reason, whatever we can do today, we’ll do. We just do our best. And we don’t expect anything. Tomorrow, blossoms and fruits may come. But they may also have yet to come. Or they may never come at all. Why is it so? Because the seeds that we have sown may not be enough. Probably it also needs other seeds that are completely out of our reach. It also needs other conditions that are completely beyond our reach. So, if it hasn’t come to fruition yet, don’t be sad. Don’t suffer.

On the contrary, we should be content because whatever we can do on our part, we’ve already done to the best of our ability. We should only regret or blame ourselves when we haven’t done our best. But if we’ve already done all we can, we can now rest assured. And if that blossom and fruit hasn’t come along yet, it’s because it lacks one, two, or three conditions that are utterly beyond our reach. That’s all.

Let’s say, we start a sangha. We do our best, putting our heart into building a sangha, making sure the sangha is happy. Meanwhile, that sangha is showing signs of lacking happiness. We demand that this person be like this, that person be like that. If they aren’t as we expect them to be, we’ll suffer. For that reason, we know that as long as there’s still anticipation, as long as there’s still expectation, there’ll be suffering. For that reason, “non-expectation” or “no expectation,” meaning “not anticipating,” surely is the true spirit of aimlessness, the third kind of leisureliness.

[Touching the bell once]

[Bell]

When we bring up a child, as a parent bringing up a son or a daughter, we expect them to grow up to be a good person. We do everything we can to make sure that child grow up to be a good person. Well, of course, we do expect them to be like this, or like that. And because we have expectation, we get disappointed, or we suffer.

But if as a parent we’re well aware of what our children need most, and we’ve already done everything we can for them, if it happens that they aren’t up to our expectations, it’s because it lacks some other conditions, some causes, that are beyond our reach.

If we do our best to find out what the other conditions are in order to provide for them, it’s fine. But if we find that, there’s literally nothing else we can do for them, we have to be patient and wait. Because time, space, and the final conditions that can bring about the expected fruition are not sufficient — they’re simply not sufficiently gathered. With that in mind, we don’t suffer.

When we have disciples who are practicing and living the teachings in happiness, the happiness of those disciples nourishes us. It brings more happiness into our life. But sometimes, there are some disciples whom we’ve invested a lot into, whom we’ve cared for, whom we’ve looked after, whom we’ve loved, and whom we’ve mentored to the best of our ability. However, those disciples still haven’t reached certain level in the practice, still haven’t had happiness. But we hold a lot of expectations for them. That’s what makes us suffer.

For what reason do we suffer? Because we still have expectations. Because we still demand that they be different, because we still expect. If we think, “I do that, I’ve done this, this, and this. And I have the right to see that, that, and that results,” when those expected results haven’t come yet, we suffer. That’s because we haven’t fully realized the third kind of leisureliness, called “leisureliness of aimlessness.”

[Inaudible sound]

What’s that?

[Inaudible sound]

Hmm.

Can you be able to hear us from over there, dear Venerable Nun?

Hmm.

As long as you can still hear us, Thay will keep going, dear Venerable Nun. Probably among the ninety one disciples of yours, there must be some whose practices aren’t up to your expectations, right? So if that doesn’t make you happy, please don’t be sad. That is called, Aimlessness. Non-expectation. And that happiness, that kind of leisureliness, will help those disciples in turn.

On the contrary, if we ask them to be like this, or to be like that; impose this condition, or lay down that condition; use this measure of punishment, or impose that measure of punishment; then chances are the desired results will take longer to come. Or they will never come.

For that reason, the third door of liberation which is aimlessness, or non-expectation, is a practice we should do on a daily basis. Let’s say, Elder Brother Nguyện Hải has to perform an abbot’s duties in the Upper Hamlet.

Of course, he would expect his younger Dharma siblings, like The Eldest, Meditation Hall team, Transportation and Vehicle Maintenance team, and Guest team, to do this, or to do that. If they were not up to his expectations, he would feel a bit sad in the morning, a bit sad in the afternoon, and a bit sad in the evening. And with that, he would last only a couple of years till he can’t get up. [audience laughing]

That’s why if we want to be an abbot for long, we have to practice what we call Aimlessness, or Non-expectation. With that, we’ll have light-heartedness, we’ll be at ease. And we’ll be able to help others in turn. But if we have an idea, “This person has to be like this, and that person has to be like that,” doing an abbot’s duties that way won’t last you for long. Perhaps Elder Sister Trung Chính in the New Hamlet should do the same. Only with the practice of non-expectation can you last for long.

Well, right now, Thay’s practicing the same. And of course, Thay suggest that his disciples practice the same, too. Don’t ask for things to be different. Don’t set out any condition. Just do the best you can whatever you can do today. And don’t expect anything in return. As a matter of course, we won’t suffer. We will be flower-fresh.

🌷

Opinion | Chris Hayes: I Want Your Attention. I Need Your Attention. Here Is How I Mastered My Own. - The New York Times




Opinion | Chris Hayes: I Want Your Attention. I Need Your Attention. Here Is How I Mastered My Own. - The New York Times

Tuesday, January 7, 2025

What is sitting meditation for? ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

https://tnhtalks.org/2022/04/06/what-is-sitting-meditation-for/

Original Vietnamese title: “Ngồi Thiền Để Làm Gì? [Thực Tập Căn Bản Làng Mai] TS Nhất Hạnh”

Originally posted byLàng Mai (Plum Village Vietnamese YouTube channel) https://youtu.be/OdQ-RNNK2XE

This is part of the Dharma talk given on January 23, 1997 in New Hamlet, Plum Village France.


Transcript

What is sitting in meditation for? Why do we have to sit in meditation? How come does a monk have to sit in meditation many times a day? What’s the point of sitting as still as a statue like that?

Let’s say if someone… If a young person comes here and asks novice nuns and monks, “Why do you have to sit so many times a day? What’s the point of sitting?“, how can we answer that question appropriately? What’s the purpose of seated meditation?

Of course, we’ll need to look deeply into the heart of the questioner in order to find the right answer. It’s not that we use our own understanding to give the answer. Look deeply into the heart of the questioner.

In the old days, there was a monk who sat in meditation all day, all night. As soon as he found himself at a loose end or having nothing to do, he would sit in meditation. So one day there’s another monk asking, “What are you sitting in meditation for?

This monk said, “I sit in meditation to become a buddha.” So the answer for this question is “Sitting in meditation is to become a buddha.

The other monk, upon hearing that, he bent forward and picked up a shard of broken roof tile. Then he sat down and started filing the broken shard.

Curious, this monk asked, “What are you filing that shard for?

The other monk said, “I’m filing the broken shard to make a mirror to look into.” “I’m filing this broken shard to make a mirror, so I can look into it.”

This monk thought, “That’s ridiculous. How on Earth can you make a broken shard into… a mirror?

Then the other monk looked up with a grin on his face, “Then, how on Earth can sitting meditation make you a buddha?

That’s a Zen story that everybody knows.

So sitting in meditation and expecting to become a buddha is like filing a broken shard and hoping it will become a mirror to look into. We should understand. We should understand that picking up a broken shard to file it is the answer of the other monk.


Sitting in meditation with the intention to become something is not the official way to do it. Because sitting in this way, there’s searching and expecting for something. We still have this searching and longing for something. And as long as there’s searching and longing, there’s going against one of the three doors of liberation, which is aimlessness.


I sit in meditation. I don’t wish, or search, for anything. Even that’s to become a buddha.” That’s the spirit of aimlessness.

It’s because of this reason, in Tào Động school, or Soto Zen, there’s a term, which is ‘Shikantaza’. It’s a Japanese word. ‘Shikantaza’ is the Japanese word. And in Sino-Vietnamese, it’s “chỉ quản đả tọa“.


Tọa” means “to sit”. “Chỉ quản đả tọa“ means “to only sit.” Only sit and expect nothing. This is the principle of Soto Zen. While sitting, just sit. Don’t search or expect for anything. Don’t hope to become anything. That’s “chỉ quản đả tọa”.

Can we do this?

If we sit just to sit, then what’s the point of sitting at all? Among us, there must’ve been some people who have already tasted the Dharma happiness of sitting in meditation. Sitting without longing or wishing for anything, without any purpose. Because “sitting” means “taking refuge in peace” and “being seated in peace“.


Taking refuge in peace” means staying there in imperturbable tranquility and solidity. It means sitting still. Just sit still. And sitting still is a great art. In the Upper Hamlet, we have the “Sitting Still Hut”.


Sitting still” is the English phrase translated from the Vietnamese word “an tọa”. You just sit still. And you sit like that with no purpose whatsoever. Even the purpose of becoming a buddha. Or the purpose of reaching enlightenment. This purpose, or that purpose. Because if we sit with a purpose, it means we’re still running. Not sitting. We’re running, and searching and longing for something.


But what is “searching and longing“? Searching and longing for something is what we’ve been doing in millions of our past lives. We’ve always been running. Running to search for something. Throughout countless lives, we’ve been hurrying, going up and coming down, rushing and searching for something.

And now, we visit a practice center, we receive from our teacher the practice called “chỉ quản đả tọa”. “Sit still, my child. Don’t search for anything anymore. Stop all that you’re doing. You just have to sit.

And stopping this way is no easy feat. Stopping this way, we have to have considerable insights to really stop.

Thursday, July 6, 2017

Beyond Language - Norman Fischer




Beyond Language
Finding freedom through thoughts and words
By Norman Fischer, Artwork by A. J. Bocchino

A seemingly inescapable fact of my life is that I am a poet, or, at least, that I keep writing poems. Why would I feel the need to do this? I am fascinated by language. But language is fascinating to everyone. It is through language that we describe and therefore create the world we live in, and it is through language that we describe and therefore create ourselves. If the world is difficult and life is difficult, it may not be that there is something wrong with life or the world—it may be that there is something wrong with our descriptions.
We usually think that there is something and then there is talking about something, and that the something is substantial and real and the talking about it is secondary. But for the human mind there is no way to separate something from talking about something. Even perception is, to some extent, a process of talking about something.
I suppose you could say that language is humanity, because human consciousness is language-making consciousness. Language is so close to us we cannot understand what it is. We are “in” language the way a fish is in water: for the fish, water is just the way things are.
I have been wondering about language almost all my life, and after all these years of exploration, I am no closer to understanding it than I have ever been. Still, in my poetry I am always writing about this effort to understand language. It seems to be my chief topic: Can we know what language is? Can we know what we are? The poet Paul Celan writes, “Whenever we speak with things in this way (in poetry) we dwell on the question of their where-from and where-to, an open question without resolution.”
So language is, on the one hand, a prison: we are literally locked inside language, created by, defined by language, and can only see as far as we can say. On the other hand, language can also free us: it can open our imagination and allow us to reach out to the world—and fly beyond it. This is what poets try to do.
They always fail, but the point is not to succeed but to make the attempt.
In Zen practice we are always trying to stand within language in a fresh way, to open up the hand of thought, and play with language and let language play with us. This means we come to understand and dwell within language in many ways. Each word means something and not something else. But also each word is gone even as we speak it, and so it isn’t anything. When we speak about something we might think we are understanding it or controlling it, but that is not so. When we are speaking about something we are also—and mainly—speaking about nothing. Speaking is just being ourselves, expressing ourselves. When we get tangled up in the something we think we are speaking about, we suffer.
All language is singing. Music doesn’t have any describable meaning, yet it is vital to our lives. But we don’t know this. We hold onto objects we have created with our language, objects that don’t exist as we imagine that they do, and we suffer. If we could experience language as it really is for us, we could be free from the suffering language creates. This doesn’t mean that we would be free from pain or sorrow. Only that we would be free from the special sort of anguish that human beings feel when they are lonely and estranged from themselves, others, and the world.

This thought lies at the heart of Buddhism. The first three practices of the eightfold path are right view, right intention, and right speech. These make right conduct possible, and when there is right conduct, there can be meditation practice and mindfulness, which lead to wisdom, thereby reinforcing right view. So from the first, the Buddha saw that our language conditions our spirituality through our views, intentions, and uttered words, and that training in an increased awareness of this process has to be the starting point for spiritual practice. In later Buddhist thought this insight was strengthened and made more explicit with the teachings on emptiness, which understand the nature of human reality to be “mere designation.”
As a spiritual teacher operating in the real world with real students, the Buddha was sophisticated yet quite practical in these matters. Like Socrates, he was a master of dialogue. He knew that getting caught up in language was a trap. He saw that nothing was more fundamental than right view—out of right view everything good unfolds—but he also saw that right view isn’t some doctrine or propositional truth. People sometimes ask me, what is the Buddhist view of this or that? But there is no Buddhist view of this or that. The Buddhist view is a non-view, but not a non-view that is the opposite of a view, a wishy-washy noncommittalism. Non-view includes various views that arise in response to conditions. Non-view is an attitude, a spirit of openness, kindness, and flexibility with regard to language. Non-view is a way to stand within language, to make use of language, to connect without being caught by—and separated from the world by—language.
Buddha spent his life talking to people. In fact, he was one of the greatest masters of talking to people in recorded history. One gets the sense in the suttas that the Buddha talked not because he was particularly loquacious, or because he was given to elaborate explanations, but in order to help people see through the smoke screen of their own language and views. Once someone asked him for his secret in answering questions as effectively as he did. He said that he had four ways of answering questions. One way was categorically—just to say yes or no without ambiguity. The second way was to examine the question analytically, clarifying definitions and trying to determine what was actually being said, usually by deconstructing it. Most of the time when the Buddha employed this method there was no need to answer the question: under analysis the question proved meaningless. The third way was by posing a counterquestion, the purpose of which was to bring the questioner back to his or her own mind, redirecting attention away from the entanglement of the language of the question to something real that stood behind it. The fourth way was simply to put the question aside, knowing that some questions are so hopelessly entangled that to take them up at all means beating your head against a wall—there is no end to it and you end up with a bloody head. To put the question aside is simply to walk around the wall. This way you can get to the other side without beating your head bloody. So sometimes the Buddha’s response to a question was silence.

In his discussion of right speech the Buddha also demonstrated the subtle and nuanced understanding that words do not have fixed meanings and ought never to be taken at face value. The meaning of a word depends on the context: who is speaking and listening, the tone of voice employed, the underlying attitude, and the situation in which the words are spoken. The very fact that the Buddha did not recommend that his words be written down and that he allowed others to explain the teachings in their own words, insisting that ordinary language, not special holy language, be used, shows that he understood language to be a process—essentially a dialogue, a dynamic experience—rather than a tool of exact description or explanation. The Buddha saw that far from being a neutral conduit for the conveying of preexisting meanings, language is an ever-shifting vehicle for the self, and that the way to clarify the self and the world is to hold language in an accurate and sensitive way.
Of all the Buddhist teachings the Zen masters of ancient China inherited from India, what they emphasized most was this point about language:
A monk asked Zhaozhou, “What is the Great Perfection of Wisdom?”
Zhaozhou replied, “The Great Perfection of Wisdom.”
Another monk asked him, “What is meditation?”
Zhaozhou replied, “Non-meditation.”
“How can meditation be non-meditation?”
“It’s alive.”
Another monk: “What is one word?”
Zhaozhou: “Two words.”
A monk asked Fengxue, “How can I go beyond speech and silence?”
In response, Fengxue quoted lines from a famous poem.
What makes us miserable, what causes us to be in conflict with one another, is our insistence on our particular view of things: our view of what we deserve or want, our view of right and wrong, our view of self, our view of other, our view of life, our view of death. But views are just views. They are not ultimate truth. There is no way to eliminate views, nor would we want to. As long as we are alive and aware there will be views. Views are colorful and interesting and life-enhancing—as long as we know they are views. The Chinese Zen masters are asking us to know a view as a view, and not to mistake it for something else. If you know a view as a view, you can be free of that view. If you know a thought as a thought, you can be free of that thought.
Going beyond language through language is something we can practice and develop through meditation, study, and awareness in daily life. In meditation we can learn to pay attention not only to sensation but also to emotion and thinking. Learning to let thinking come and go, we can eventually understand a thought as a thought and a word as a word, and with this understanding we can find a measure of freedom from thoughts and words. We can begin to appreciate Buddhist thought not as a new set of concepts that we are to adhere to, but as a kind of mental yoga, a counterweight to the concepts we already unconsciously hold and that hold us, locking us into a small, temporary, atomized self. When in daily living we learn to return again and again to where we are in body, emotion, and mind, we are learning to hold our language and views lightly, to see that they are ever-evolving currents of being, that they are not only ours but belong to everyone else as well. When we cultivate the practice of paying close attention to the way we talk to ourselves, we won’t fool ourselves too much. Another old Zen master used to call out to himself, “Don’t be fooled by anything.” And he would answer, “I won’t be!”
Norman Fischer is a poet and Zen priest who lives at Green Gulch Farm, a Zen center in California, where he is the head of the practice program.
A. J. Bocchino is a visual artist whose projects are driven by an analysis of the mass media as well as the processes of accumulation, archiving, and record keeping. www.ajbocchino.com

Friday, June 23, 2017

3 Doors of Liberation: Shunyata, signlessness, aimlessness - TNH

Concepts by TNH 

from The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching       Chapter 19: The 3 Doors of Liberation:


aka Three Meditations of One Mind  Three Meditations of One Mind
Also known as Three Inconceivable Meditations, which is one of the practices in Tien Tai Sect in China
According to Tien Tai, all existence in the universe consists of Three Dogmas (Truths), namely, Void, Unreal and Mean. These three Dogmas are co-existent and interactive, integrated and interrelated. If one can meditate this concept with the whole mind, it is call Three Meditations of One mind, or Inconceivable Profound Meditation.
1. meditation of emptiness (sunyata)
2. signlessness (animitta): noncognition
3. wishlessness (apranihita): freedom from desirenonattachment

Signlessness (animitta): 'sign' means an appearance or an object of our perception, seems to be a state where one doesn't get hooked by outward signs, by outward appearances, you don't follow the signs, you don't take direction from the sign ...emotionally, no direction-taking when taking action, signs are not 'absolute truth' ... 

Also: from OUP: absence of perceptual attributes (http://www.chinabuddhismencyclopedia.com/en/index.php/Animitta) -- perceptual attributes: (http://www.oxfordreference.com/search?

source=%2F10.1093%2Facref%2F9780198605607.001.0001%2Facref-9780198605607&q=perceptual+attributes)

Aimlessness (apranihita - wishlessness): allows for one to enjoy the present conditions, no need to achieve a condition, finagle a condition before enjoying happiness right now. nothing to do, nothing to realize, nothing to aim for?, no program, no agenda, no need to put anything in front of us and run after it.
http://www.chinabuddhismencyclopedia.com/en/index.php/Apranihita

Shunyata: Emptiness - empty of self, because of impermanent nature of phenomenon

Nibanna: extinction of judgments,