Two Paths to One Insight

If you've spent any time with early Buddhist texts, you've encountered the word dhamma. You've probably also noticed something strange: the word seems to mean different things in different contexts. Sometimes it refers to the Buddha's teaching. Sometimes it means truth, or reality, or phenomena, or righteousness, or just the way things are. Translators don't agree on how to render it. Some leave it untranslated altogether.

But this isn't a failure of translation. The word really is doing all of these things at once. This isn't accidental, the Buddha deliberately exploits and transforms the term in ways that reveal something essential about his project. Understanding how dhamma works might help us understand what we're doing when we practice.

The Word Before the Buddha

Dhamma derives from the Sanskrit root dhṛ, meaning "to hold, support, maintain." The root gives us the sense of what upholds or sustains, or that which keeps things in place. In a sense one can say that before the Buddha ever used the word dhamma, it already carried several layers of meaning in the Brahmanical world from the continuous historical unfolding of networks of meanings expressed orally for several thousand years.

There was dharma as cosmic order, the principle that makes the universe cohere, the regularity of natural processes, the reliable pattern of seasons and celestial movements. The Vedic concept of ṛta gradually merged into dharma in this sense. It's what holds everything together.

Then there was dharma as social-ethical duty, one's prescribed role and obligations according to caste and life-stage. Your svadharma, your own particular duty, was determined by birth. A warrior's dharma differed from a priest's. To live according to dharma meant fulfilling the role you were born into.

Beyond these, dharma also meant law, custom, norm, the established way things are done, what is proper or fitting. And finally, it could mean quality or characteristic, a thing's nature, what makes it what it is. Fire has the dharma of heat.

The Buddha inherits all of these resonances in the same was a contemporary english speaker inherits order, a word so mundane we use it to buy a coffee or describe a tidy desk. It is the simple logic of a numbered list, one, two, three, ensuring that every item follows the one before it. But then, also, a stern authority: a command that must be obeyed, a decree that carries the weight of law. Shift it once more, and it describes a life of total, sacred devotion, a community of monks bound by a shared vow and a common rule. A word that can describe both a clean room and the entire architecture of the universe, rarely realizing that these disparate ideas are woven together by a single, ancient thread (ordo). 

A Connecting Circuitry

What unites these senses? Dhamma seems to name what is structurally the case about experience and reality, in a way that is both discoverable and liveable.

It seems to be the how of things, how they arise, how they persist, how they cease, how this matters for suffering and its end. Where the Buddha's particular genius would be to make the same word name three things at once: the structure (phenomena, their characteristics), the recognition of that structure (truth, teaching), and the living in accord with that structure (righteousness, the path of practice).

Let's consider the stock description of the dhamma that appears in the early texts as part of the recollection of dhamma (dhammānussati): the dhamma is svākkhāto (well-proclaimed), sandiṭṭhiko (visible here and now), akāliko (immediate, not delayed), ehipassiko (inviting investigation, "come and see"), opaneyyiko (leading onward), and paccattaṃ veditabbo viññūhi (to be known by the wise for themselves).

The dhamma is something taught ("well-proclaimed"), something real ("visible here and now," "immediate"), something to be investigated ("come and see"), something practical ("leading onward"), and something personally realized ("to be known by the wise for themselves"). All the senses of the word converge in a single formula. Different parts of the same process and not just separate layers of a singular idea. 

If we were to translate the logic of the entire Dhamma path into a contemporary algorithm, the result would look something like this:
[ Understanding(Dhamma) ] ⇒ [ Perceiving(Dhammas) ] ⇒ [ Transformation(Dhamma) ] ⇒ (Repeat)

The key is that each step is a dependency for the next, creating a virtuous, inseparable loop.

What This Means for Practice

This has consequences for practice. Most obviously, hearing the teaching and investigating reality aren't separate activities. When you study a sutta and when you sit in meditation, you're engaged with the same dhamma, in different modes. The conceptual understanding and the direct knowing are meant to inform each other continuously in the movement towards liberation.

It also means that ethics and insight aren't separate tracks. Living according to dhamma (righteousness) and understanding dhamma (truth) support each other. The precepts aren't arbitrary rules imposed from outside; they reflect the implied execution of the path. Acting in ways that generate less craving, less aversion, less delusion is acting in accord with how things actually work. The ethical and the epistemic are woven together by the path, in execution of the path. 

And it means we shouldn't reify dhamma as some abstract principle floating above experience. The dhammas (phenomena) are right here, in every moment of seeing, hearing, thinking, feeling. The structure is not elsewhere. The investigation happens in experience, not apart from it. This is what sandiṭṭhiko, "visible here and now", really points to.

Realization isn't the accumulation of information. Paccattaṃ veditabbo viññūhi, "to be known by the wise for themselves." No amount of textual study substitutes for direct seeing. The teaching points; you have to look. But looking without the teaching leaves you without orientation: you might look and not know what you're seeing. The interplay matters.

The Dhamma-Eye

There's a striking image in the texts: the arising of the dhamma-cakkhu, the "dhamma-eye." This is what opens at the moment of stream-entry, the first of the four stages of awakening. The stock formula for this moment is the lived or experiential realization that: "Yaṃ kiñci samudaya-dhammaṃ, sabbaṃ taṃ nirodha-dhammaṃ". "Whatever is subject to origination is subject to cessation."

The grammar is worth pausing over. Yaṃ kiñci means "whatever" or "anything whatsoever". It denotes universality, everything without exception. Samudaya-dhammaṃ: having the nature of arising, subject to origination. Sabbaṃ taṃ: all of that. Nirodha-dhammaṃ: having the nature of cessation.

When you see something as nirodha-dhamma, you realize that "maintenance" is impossible. You aren't just losing the object eventually; the object is a process of loss. It isn't a thing that will someday cease, it's ceasing, right now, as part of what it is to be the kind of thing it is. The one who has opened the dhamma-eye doesn't just know this conceptually. They see it. And that seeing changes everything about how they move through the world.

Living Within the Word

The Buddha could have invented new terminology, a technical term with a single, precise meaning. Instead, he took a word saturated with cultural resonance and transformed it from within. He kept the sense of "what holds things together" but relocated it from cosmic ritual to the structure of actual experiencing. He kept the sense of "duty" but detached it from caste. He kept the sense of "law" but made it something discovered through investigation rather than received through tradition.

The result is a word that enacts its own meaning. Dhamma holds together what might otherwise seem separate: principles and reality, phenomena and truth, ethics and insight, study and practice. To understand the word is already to begin practicing with it. And to practice with it is to find out whether the understanding holds.

Comfortable Tales

One often hears in contemporary mindfulness communities things insinuating that "All Buddhist traditions are just different expressions of the same Dharma." It's the spiritual equivalent of "all roads lead to Rome". It sounds wise, avoids awkward conversations at the dharma center, and lets everyone feel included in one big Buddhist family.

But here's the problem: it's demonstrably false. The Buddha laid out a clear logic model in the Four Noble Truths.¹ But when we examine how different traditions interpret and practice the eight dimensions of the 4th truth, we find fundamental differences not just between major schools, but even within them.

Take "Right View" (sammā-diṭṭhi). Even within Theravada alone, the Thai Forest tradition treats it as a practical hypothesis to test through direct experience. The Sri Lankan Mahāvihāra tradition systematizes it through Abhidhamma categories and scholastic precision. Burmese Vipassanā teachers often bypass doctrinal belief entirely, focusing on moment-to-moment experiential verification. If within a single yāna there are traditions T₁ emphasizing testing, T₂ emphasizes study, and T₃ emphasizes direct insight with respect to sammā-diṭṭhi, then the very foundations of practice within the entire 8 dimensions are already starting from different dispositions without even looking yet at other yānas. Similarly with sammā-samādhi a single yana can have approaches A₁ requiring specific jhāna attainments, A₂ using jhāna as a somewhat flexible tool not fixedly clung to, and A₃ bypassing jhāna as a key element of the definition of samādhi altogether, focusing on momentary clarity. Such that the very referent and practice of sammā-samādhi branches off into a number of distinct directions before one even look at other yanas.

When we examine the Buddha's life through early texts, we see someone driven by persistence, clarity, and precision. Constantly investigating what causes what, what reduces what, under which conditions certain criteria are met. To emulate this approach means not glossing over nuance, distinctions, categories, variations, causal conditions, or the subtle movements of dhammas. The three forms of wisdom --suta-mayā paññā (heard/learned), cinta-mayā paññā (reflected upon), and bhāvanā-mayā paññā (developed through meditation)-- all seem to require distinguishing signal from noise, recognizing the nature of differences.²

Of course, this reflects an early Buddhist perspective. A Zen or Dzogchen practitioner might argue we're 'putting legs on a snake', and that distinction-making itself must be transcended, not refined. Fair enough. But as a nature nerd, I'd note that snake ancestors shed their legs only after evolving past the need for them. Premature leg-loss would have made them easy prey, ending the snake lineage entirely.

Similarly, in the Pali Canon, those who successfully see through Mara's disguises are precisely those who've developed sharp discernment. When Mara appears as a beautiful youth or concerned relative, it's vipassana --clear seeing of distinctions-- that reveals the deception. Perhaps, like those proto-snakes, we need to master discrimination (mastering non-quadraped locomotion) before we can safely transcend it (legs).

Let's Look Again

Ok, with that said, let's examine what these differences mean for actual practice through a more nuanced framework. For any tradition T, we can analyze:

V = View/Framework (how is right view sammā-diṭṭhi defined, approached, centered with respect to the various aspects of "practice")
L = Path Logic (gradual/sudden/grace? self/other-powered?)
M = Methods employed
B = Bhāvanā (qualities cultivated or recognized)
S = Signs of progress
P = Phala (results/fruitions)

Consider how different traditions approach Right Concentration (sammā-samādhi):

Zen/Shikantaza:

• V: Ordinary mind is already Buddha-mind
• L: Neither gradual nor sudden—no path to travel
• M: "Just sitting" without technique
• B: Non-cultivation (no qualities to develop)
• S: Diminishing of seeking itself
• P: Recognition that there was never anything to attain

Pure Land:

• V: Samsaric beings need Amida's saving grace
• L: Other-powered salvation through faith
• M: Nembutsu recitation with devotion
• B: Cultivating faith (shinjin), samādhi, and merit
• S: Strength of aspiration, visions, dreams of Pure Land
• P: Assured rebirth in Sukhavati at death

Dzogchen:

Why This Matters

For Practitioners:

Today's contemplative landscape extends far beyond choosing between Buddhist schools. We now navigate:
- Buddhist traditions (each with multiple sub-lineages as noted)
- Hindu contemplative paths (Advaita's self-inquiry, Kashmir Shaivism's recognition, Kriya Yoga's energy work)
- Secular adaptations (MBSR, DBT mindfulness, corporate wellness programs)
- Neo-traditions (Unified Mindfulness, The Mind Illuminated, various "McMindfulness" apps)
- Hybrid spiritual technologies (psychedelic-assisted meditation, neurofeedback dharma)

Each operates on distinct logic models. Advaita's "Who am I?" inquiry assumes a kind of eternal Self to discover. Secular mindfulness treats meditation as cognitive training divorced from ethics or wisdom. Modern apps gamify attention for productivity, not bodhi or nibbāna.

I've come to believe that, just as the contemporary situation of digital algorithms call for the development of a literacy and a skillfulness of attentional navigation, so too the contemporary situation of storefront McMindfulnessization of spiritual practices (whatever one takes this latter to mean), calls for the renewed application of discernment with respect to spiritual technologies. There is a dhamma-vicaya to benefit from in this type of social navigation. We must discern what's actually happening and then apply appropriate attention (yoniso manasikāra): knowing what is what, what gives rise to what etc. Without this precision, practitioners grab onto techniques, teachers, ideas randomly, like taking medications without reading labels.

For All Contemplative Traditions:

Honest acknowledgment of differences serves everyone, in all traditions and approaches within traditions. With accurate maps, one can only choose paths aligned with one's actual goals—whether that's Buddhist liberation, Hindu moksha, or simply stress reduction, if the narrative space surrounding them develops greater clarity. The Buddha's gift of centering systematic discernment (dhamma-vicaya) becomes even more crucial in our era's new spiritually pluralistic marketplace: not to judge traditions as better or worse, but to understand what each actually offers and leads to what, and practice accordingly.

A Way Forward?

Here's one more potential mature approach: neither dogmatism nor throwing darts and seeing where things land. Not ignoring emotion or creative aspects nor acting like rigor in thought is a universal panacea to anything, but rather, an openness, curiosity, like a scientist, or perhaps better, like a physician working with a patient (yourself) whose situation is in some ways unique, in some ways like huge swarths of other humans on this planet, but whose precise prescription needs trial and error, measurements, careful observation, and a clear focus on causal conditions and what gives rise to what.

If One Asks specific questions like:

• What does this tradition define as "practice"? What qualities does this "practice" cultivate?
• What's the underlying logic model?
• How do you feel about the central teacher, leadership, the relationship between teachers and students? What are the power dynamics like and how does your own cultural embodiment relate to it?
• What results do long-term practitioners actually report? (e.g., "Stream-entry? Kensho? Stress reduction? Devotional rapture?")
• What are you actually looking for? Ask and answer earnestly!

Then practice with a state of coherence and clarity about what you're doing and why. As the suttas outline in SN 46.3 and SN 46.51, dhamma-vicaya (investigation of phenomena) isn't preliminary work to be abandoned once you've chosen a path—it's an ongoing awakening factor that sharpens with practice. This discerning analysis reveals which specific mental formations arise under which conditions, which practices actually reduce suffering in your particular configuration of mind, and which teachings resonate as medicine for your specific ailments rather than someone else's. Through this careful investigation, the universal principles of the dharma become a living path uniquely calibrated to your own liberation.

It seems to me that approaching dhamma with a modular mindset only makes sense within this type of framework in the same way that physicians adopt modular treatment protocols only after seeing or gaining an understanding from research or others what specific conditions respond to what interventions, which medications interact dangerously, and which combinations actually enhance therapeutic outcomes—not before understanding these causal relationships, and certainly not by randomly mixing treatments from different medical systems without grasping their underlying physiological models.

Footnotes:

"[T]xai means something akin to “brother-in-law.” It refers to a man’s real or possible brothers-in-law, and, when used as a friendly vocative to speak to non-Cashinahua outsiders, the implication is that the latter are kinds of affines. Moreover, I explained that one does not need to be a friend to be txai. It suffices to be an outsider, or even—and even better—an enemy". [1]

Whereas our common way of thinking presupposes that to relate is to assimilate, unify, and identify, what if we inhabited a world, an ontology, where difference, rather than identity, is the principle of relationality? Such that I could receive you, a stranger, as txai, cross-cousin or brother in law, and rest in your difference --as opposed to our commonalities-- as that which wards off an indifference towards you? How do I inhabit encounters in such a world? How do I receive your meaning and my meaning, and communication across both?

Controlled equivocation is a methodological approach in anthropology developed by Eduardo Viveiros de Castro, a prominent Brazilian anthropologist known for his work with indigenous Amazonian cultures and his efforts to clarify why so many have misunderstood their ontologies historically, and to ultimately theorize the challenges of cross-cultural, cross-niche, cross-ontology etc understanding and translation in general.

At its core, controlled equivocation is an approach to dealing with the inevitable misunderstandings and misconceptions that arise when anthropologists attempt to translate concepts between radically different cultural contexts. Rather than viewing these misunderstandings as obstacles to be overcome, Viveiros de Castro proposes that they should be embraced and analyzed as productive sites of anthropological insight.

The method involves carefully examining the differences in meaning and reference that emerge when seemingly equivalent terms or concepts are translated between cultures. Instead of trying to find a common ground or universal reference point, controlled equivocation aims to elucidate the different ontological assumptions and "worlds" that underlie these concepts in different cultures. As he himself describes the Amerindian perspectivism found in the amazon, one "supposes a constant epistemology and variable ontologies, the same representations and other objects, a single meaning and multiple referents".[2]

Different types of beings inhabit different but equally real "natures" or worlds. Amerindian ontologies presuppose a comparison between the ways different kinds of bodies “naturally” experience the world as a result of their "affectual multiplicity" --that is to say, as infinite rainbow of individuations of worlds within the same universe of actors taken as objects. This individuation proceed by way of the set of unique qualities, states, faculties, habitats etc of sentient bodies. Controlled equivocation is thus a method for navigating between these different realities without reducing them to mere cultural variations on a single, objective reality. Retelling a myth Viveiros de Castro is fond of, when a human protagonist gets lost in the forest and arrives at a village whose dwellers invite him to a gourd of 'manioc beer,' only to see him horrified when they serve him a gourd brimming with human blood, the horror only arises because the protagonist has not yet realized he'd dinning with jaguars taking human form. This inversion of sorts from dominant epistemologies that has been stewing in my mind for about 15 years.

Formalizing Controlled Equivocation in Logic

Ok so maybe you've gotten a taste of what this is getting at. I'll now move on to how we might formalize controlled equivocation in terms of formal logic, abstracting it from its anthropological origins so that people like us txai can make use of it.

Basic Formalization

We'll define two distinct logical systems, A and B, each with their own:

• Sets of primitive terms (T_A and T_B)
• Rules of inference (R_A and R_B)
• Truth conditions (C_A and C_B)

Controlled equivocation recognizes that when we attempt to translate a term t_a ∈ T_A into system B, we're not simply finding an equivalent t_b ∈ T_B. Instead, we're creating a mapping function M: T_A → T_B that preserves some relations while necessarily distorting others.

The "equivocation" occurs because:

1. The term t_a in system A has relations r_a1, r_a2, ... r_an to other terms in T_A
2. The mapped term M(t_a) = t_b in system B has relations r_b1, r_b2, ... r_bm to terms in T_B
3. The sets {r_a1, r_a2, ... r_an} and {r_b1, r_b2, ... r_bm} are not isomorphic

So.. we might express a controlled equivocation relation as:

CE(t_a, t_b) = (S, D)

Where:

• t_a is a term in system A
• t_b is a term in system B
• S is the set of shared logical properties between t_a and t_b
• D is the set of divergent logical properties

The "control" aspect comes from explicitly tracking both S and D, rather than pretending D is empty.

Some initial thoughts extracting its logic this way

1. Translation between systems is necessarily a partial function, not a bijection. Some concepts in system A have no meaningful mapping in system B and vice versa.
2. Terms that sound or appear similar across systems (homoiophonic terms) may have completely different logical roles (homonymy). For example, the term "nature" in Western thought and "naturaleza" in Amazonian thought are homoiophonic but homonymous.
3. Instead of a correspondence theory of translation, controlled equivocation employs what we might call a "difference logic" - a way of reasoning about the systematic differences between logical systems.
4. Controlled equivocation requires operating at a meta-logical level that acknowledges the impossibility of a perfect translation while still allowing communication to proceed.

Practical Implementation

My interest in this idea came from what I see as fruitful practical implications of it, but at a certain level I fear it may be simply pissing in the wind with respect to how modern day conjunction of nation-states are moving. Well maybe I'll set my sights not so much on that ur-set of txai but the one or two people that will mistakenly stumble across this blog.

In a practical logical system implementing controlled equivocation:

1. We would need a meta-language to discuss the differences between systems A and B.
2. Translation would be represented not as equivalence (t_a = t_b) but as a relation that preserves certain specified aspects while explicitly noting what is not preserved.
3. The logical system would need to handle ambiguity not as a failure but as a feature that reveals ontological differences.
4. We would need formal operators to track and reason about these differences rather than trying to eliminate them.

[1] Viveiros de Castro, Eduardo (2004). "Perspectival Anthropology and the Method of Controlled Equivocation", Tipití: Journal of the Society for the Anthropology of Lowland South America: Vol. 2: Iss. 1, Article 1. p. 16 DOI: https://doi.org/10.70845/2572-3626.1010

[2] Ibid. p. 6.

Buddhism is full of things people view as paradoxes—seeming (but illusory) contradictions that, instead of leading to confusion when followed through, open the door to deeper understanding. One of the most profound is the paradox of becoming (bhavā). The Buddha teaches that craving leads to suffering because it fuels becoming—our endless cycle of identities, desires, and rebirths. And yet, the path to the end of suffering involves cultivating a particular kind of becoming.

So, how should we think about what becoming is, and why does it hold such a central place in Buddhist thought? Here I will try to break it down the key teachings that illuminate this paradox.

What is Becoming?

The term bhavā is often translated as “existence” or “being,” but these translations miss its dynamic nature. Bhavā isn’t just about being something—it’s about the process of becoming, the continual formation and reformation of identities based on craving and clinging.

The Buddha describes bhavā as the link between craving and birth in the Twelve Links of Dependent Origination (paticca-samuppada). As he puts it:

“And this, monks, is the noble truth of the origination of stress: the craving that makes for renewed becoming (bhavā)—accompanied by passion & delight, relishing now here & now there—i.e., craving for sensuality, craving for becoming, craving for non-becoming.” (SN 56:11)

Three types of becoming are commonly discussed, the first is the primary and which occupies the almost the entirety of the average human experience, the other two rarer and found primarily with focused jhanic practitioners:

• Sensual becoming (kāmabhava): The desire-driven life of pleasures and attachments.
• Form becoming (rūpabhava): Meditative states associated with refined material existence.
• Formless becoming (arūpabhava): Even subtler meditative states beyond material form.

To understand these, we must  see that becoming as the process of giving rise to a sense of identity in a particular world of experience based on clinging. The type of becoming depends on the type of desire one is clinging to:

Let's look at examples of each:

Kāmabhava (Sensual Becoming)

This refers to existence fueled by desire for sensory pleasures. It includes human life and many heavenly realms where beings experience pleasure through the five senses.

Example:

• A wealthy businessman who indulges in fine food, luxury vacations, and romantic relationships is deeply engaged in kāmabhava. His life revolves around pleasure-seeking and avoiding discomfort.
• In Buddhist cosmology, the Devas in the sensual heavens (such as the Tavatimsa heaven) enjoy immense pleasure but are still bound by sensory craving.

Rūpabhava (Form Becoming)

This refers to states of existence associated with refined material form, but without strong sensual craving. It includes beings in meditative absorption (jhāna) and the rūpa-loka (form realm), where beings have subtle physicality but do not experience crude sensory desires.

Example:

• A meditator who attains deep jhāna states and is reborn in the Brahma realms, experiencing immense peace but still having a subtle identity.
• The Brahmā gods in the Form Realms, such as those in the Suddhāvāsa heavens, exist in a refined, radiant form and do not engage in sensual pleasures.

Arūpabhava (Formless Becoming)

This refers to states of existence without physical form, where beings exist purely in mental consciousness. These states correspond to advanced meditative attainments in the arūpa-jhānas and the formless realms (arūpa-loka).

Example:

• A highly advanced meditator achieves the jhāna of infinite space or infinite consciousness and is reborn in the corresponding formless realm (Ākāsānañcāyatana or Viññāṇañcāyatana).
• Beings in these realms experience vast, formless existence but still have subtle clinging to selfhood, which prevents full liberation.

The key in all these cases is the clinging and the sense of identity built around the object of clinging. Even very high and refined meditative states can be a basis for becoming if one mistakes them for a self and clings to them as such.

Two initial points to take away from this: firstly, that these different types of becoming show that even spiritual pursuits can be entangled in the cycle and the associated dukkha—one can crave formless meditative states just as one craves material success.

The Field Analogy: How Becoming Works

In a conversation with his attendant, Ānanda, the Buddha explains becoming using a farming analogy:

“Kamma is the field, consciousness the seed, and craving the moisture. The consciousness of living beings hindered by ignorance & fettered by craving is established in/tuned to a lower property. Thus, there is the production of renewed becoming in the future.” (AN 3:76)

In other words, past actions (kamma) create the conditions (the field), but without craving (the moisture), consciousness (the seed) doesn’t take root. This explains why breaking free from becoming isn’t just about stopping actions—it’s about taking stock of completely reworking ones relationship with craving (taṇhā).

Craving for Non-Becoming: The Hidden Trap

You might think, “If becoming leads to suffering, wouldn’t wanting to stop becoming be the solution?” The Buddha warns against this very trap:

“Some, feeling horrified, humiliated, & disgusted with that very becoming, delight in non-becoming: ‘When this self, at the break-up of the body, after death, perishes & is destroyed, and does not exist after death, that is peaceful, that is exquisite, that is sufficiency!’” (Iti 49)

This is the paradox: the craving to end becoming is itself a form of becoming. Trying to forcefully annihilate selfhood or existence—whether through nihilistic views or an intense desire for oblivion—only fuels the cycle further.

The Path Out: Skillful Becoming

So, if both becoming and non-becoming lead to suffering, what’s the way out? The answer lies in using becoming strategically. The Buddha discovered that a particular kind of becoming—right concentration (jhāna)—provides the foundation for letting go completely.

“Develop concentration (samādhi), monks. A concentrated monk discerns things as they have come to be. And what does he discern as it has come to be? ‘This is stress,’ he discerns as it has come to be. ‘This is the origination of stress… This is the cessation of stress… This is the path of practice leading to the cessation of stress,’ he discerns as it has come to be.” (SN 56:1)

By cultivating a state of deep, stable awareness through meditation, one can see becoming as it arises and ceases, without clinging to it. This allows the mind to let go—not through aversion, but through understanding.

To “discern as [things] have come to be” highlights the necessity of investigation, analysis, and a rational ‘looking towards’ in understanding suffering. It is inseparable from the overall objective from developing concentration. The progressive mastery of samādhi serves as the key foundation for insight. A steady/imperturbable mind can systematically observe the processes that create suffering, allowing one to deconstruct and relinquish them and see into the true nature of existence. By directly observing the arising and passing away of causes and conditions, we can understand dukkha’s many origins and the paths leading to their cessation. Thus, rather than escaping or suppressing experience, the practice involves turning towards it with unwavering attention and clarity.

Beyond Becoming: The End of the Road

When becoming ends completely, what remains? The Buddha describes it as something beyond identity, beyond location, beyond conceptualization:

“Where there is no passion for the nutriment of physical food, where there is no delight, no craving, then consciousness does not land there or grow. Where consciousness does not land or grow, name-&-form does not alight. Where name-&-form does not alight, there is no growth of fabrications. Where there is no growth of fabrications, there is no production of renewed becoming in the future.” (SN 12:63)

Unlike a nihilistic void, it is the ultimate freedom—free from craving, free from the cycle of becoming.

“Those, having seen what’s come to be as what’s come to be, and what’s gone beyond what’s come to be, are released in line with what’s come to be, through the exhaustion of craving for becoming.” (Iti 49)

The Catuskoti, also known as the Tetralemma, is a philosophical concept originating from the early Indian thought and first becomes codified in the tipikata in suttas such as the Aggivacchasutta, Anurādhasutta and for different means by the ascetic Sañjaya Belaṭṭhiputta in the Sāmaññaphala Sutta (c.f 3.6). It represents a way of understanding and discussing reality that is markedly different from the binary logic commonly found in Western philosophy. The term itself is derived from two Sanskrit words: "catuḥ," meaning "four," and "koti," which can mean "cases," "alternatives," or "possibilities." Thus, Catuskoti translates to "the four possibilities."

Etymology

• Catuḥ (चतुः): This part of the term means "four" in Sanskrit, indicating the number of propositions offered by the Catuskoti.
• Koti (कोटि): This term can be translated as "case," "category," or "possibility," suggesting the nature of the alternatives the Catuskoti presents.

Origin and Historical Use

The Catuskoti was used as a method to approach and understand complex philosophical and metaphysical debates, where simple binary distinctions (true or false) were found to be inadequate. From the early buddhist text standpoint you have its use to demonstrate the limitations of language and conceptual thinking, particularly around metaphysical questions and the opposing use, the Sanjaya "eel-wriggling" (amarāvikkhepa), neither...nor, construction to systematically evade taking any position:

Several centuries later you have one of the most famous proponents of the Catuskoti in Buddhism: Nagarjuna, the founder of the Madhyamaka school of Mahayana Buddhism, who employed it to discuss the nature of emptiness and/or to demonstrate dependent origination. He most famously employs the catuskoti in the Mūlamadhyamakakārikā to analyze fundamental concepts and show that they lack svabhāva (inherent existence). He typically examines four possibilities for how something might exist or arise:

In Jainism, the logic of Anekantavada (the doctrine of multiple aspects) employs a similar structure to the Catuskoti, emphasizing the complexity and multifaceted nature of truth. Jains integrate catuskoti-style reasoning into their broader syādvāda (seven-fold predication) system. Rather than rejecting positions, they see multiple viewpoints as simultaneously valid in different contexts. The Jain approach is affirmative rather than negative - they use this type of logic to build a positive theory of reality's many-sided nature (anekāntavāda). Each perspective is seen as partially true rather than ultimately false.

The fundamental difference between the Jain and Buddhist iterations lies in their aims: Buddhist usage tends toward demonstrating the inadequacy of conceptual thinking and language, while Jain usage aims to build up metaphysical claims to capture what they see as the complex, multi-faceted nature of reality through acknowledging multiple valid perspectives.

Comparison and Difference with Other Forms of Logic

The most striking difference between the Catuskoti and Western forms of logic is the inclusion of two additional possibilities beyond the simple binary of true and false. Western logic traditionally relies on the principle of bivalence, which asserts that every proposition is either true or false. In contrast, the Catuskoti introduces a fourfold logical structure that allows for more nuanced discussions about reality, including statements that are both true and false, as well as neither true nor false.

Examples Using Formal Logic Notation

In formal logic notation, the four possibilities offered by the Catuskoti can be expressed as follows, where "P" is a proposition:

1. P (It is the case that P)
2. ¬P (It is not the case that P)
3. P ∧ ¬P (It is both the case that P and not the case that P)
4. ¬(P ∨ ¬P) (It is neither the case that P nor not the case that P)

For example, consider the proposition P: "The current king of France is bald." In classical Western logic, this proposition is either true or false. However, under the Catuskoti framework, we can explore it more nuancedly, especially considering that there is no current king of France:

1. P: The current king of France is bald. (Asserting a fact about a non-existent entity)
2. ¬P: The current king of France is not bald. (Denying a fact about a non-existent entity)
3. P ∧ ¬P: The current king of France is both bald and not bald. (Acknowledging a paradoxical nature of discussing non-existent entities)
4. ¬(P ∨ ¬P): It is neither correct to say the current king of France is bald nor not bald. (Reflecting the inapplicability of such assertions about non-existent entities)

One might say then that the Catuskoti opens up a space for more complex and nuanced discussions about reality, truth, and existence, accommodating the limitations and paradoxes that arise in conventional logic systems. But I think there is a pre-logical activity with the historical Buddha that should be made distinct. The Catuskoti is employed as a way of demonstrating something that is only of relevance upon the posing of a question. The Buddha's prior activity relates to a discernment of skillful (i.e. what leads to liberation) vs unskillful (what leads to confusion or greater attachments) questions. It's what in 20th century terms one might call a soteriological Problematics (which perhaps I will write about another day). But the basic idea is that from the perspective of the Buddha's soteriological objectives, the field comes to a point of being cleared of questions or concerns of logical consistency. What quicker way, than through a Catuskoti to note the non-soteriological metaphysical questioning and re-elevate a discussion to the level of the Problem? Logic is not set to the side, only the unskillful use.

What happens when we put the addressing of conceit (māna) at the beginning? Much of what shapes the intellectual course of the average human is shaped solely by the ever present, but ever moving boundaries of the particular arrisings of territoriality generated through our activities of selfing (atta-karaṇa). The propensity to defend prior-assumptions, beliefs, stances, opinions, perceptions, perspectives, to self-aggrandize, and to seek others with whom to share in the territoriality of nama-rupa, it creates a situation where every step of acquaintance with dhamma negotiates with ones established territorial boundaries.

Listed as one of the ten hindrances, we are warned and advised in the Mānapariññāsutta (Iti 8):

• without directly knowing and completely understanding conceit, without dispassion for it and giving it up, you can’t end suffering. / "Mānaṁ, bhikkhave, anabhijānaṁ aparijānaṁ tattha cittaṁ avirājayaṁ appajahaṁ abhabbo dukkhakkhayāya."

• By directly knowing and completely understanding conceit, having dispassion for it and giving it up, you can end suffering. / "Mānañca kho, bhikkhave, abhijānaṁ parijānaṁ tattha cittaṁ virājayaṁ pajahaṁ bhabbo dukkhakkhayāyā”ti.”

So omnipresent is the daily function of conceit that it is called out as a significant obstacle on the path to enlightenment. So we are not talking about a mere character flaw, conceit is considered one of the last fetters to be broken before achieving full liberation. I will use this space here to explore the Buddhist understanding of conceit, its origins, its impact on spiritual progress, and the methods prescribed for its elimination.

Understanding Conceit in Buddhism

Definition and Types

Conceit in Buddhism goes beyond the common understanding of arrogance or pride. At its core, it's the tendency to compare oneself with others and create a sense of "I" or "mine." The Buddha identified three primary forms of conceit (DN33, SN45.162):

1. "I am better than..."

2. "I am equal to..."

3. "I am inferior to..."

These comparisons manifest in various ways, from obvious boastfulness, narcissism, to subtle feelings of inadequacy and everything in-between. It can even be felt in an impulse to compare oneself to others or others to others at all.

The Pervasiveness of Conceit

Conceit is considered one of the seven underlying tendencies (anusaya) of the mind (DN33, SN45.175). It's also listed as one of the five higher fetters (SN45.180), indicating its persistence even in advanced stages of spiritual development.

The Buddha emphasized that conceit is not limited to feelings of superiority. Even the thought "I am" is a form of conceit (SN35.248). This fundamental identification with a self is seen as the root of all other forms of conceit.

But Why Does Conceit Arise?

Ignorance and Self-View

Conceit arises from a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of reality. The Buddha taught that it stems from:

1. Ignorance (avijjā) of the true nature of phenomena

2. A distorted view of self (sakkāya-diṭṭhi)

When one fails to see the impermanent, unsatisfactory, and non-self nature of the five aggregates (form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness), conceit takes hold (SN22.47).

Grasping and Identification

Conceit is reinforced through grasping and identification with the five aggregates. As explained in SN22.83, the notion "I am" occurs because of grasping these aggregates, not by not grasping them.

What are the Methods for Addressing Conceit

The Buddha provided various practices and contemplations to address conceit:

1. Developing the Noble Eightfold Path

The Noble Eightfold Path is prescribed as the primary method for overcoming conceit (SN45.162). This comprehensive approach to spiritual development includes right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration.

2. Contemplation of Impermanence

Developing the perception of impermanence (anicca-saññā) is highly emphasized. The Buddha stated that when this perception is cultivated, it eliminates all conceit 'I am' (SN22.102, MN62).

3. Contemplation of Not-Self

Reflecting on the non-self nature of phenomena is crucial. By seeing that none of the five aggregates can be truly owned or controlled, one undermines the basis for conceit (MN109, SN22.59).

4. Mindfulness of the Body

The Buddha taught that developing mindfulness directed to the body can lead to the uprooting of conceit (AN1.586-590). This includes practices such as contemplation of the body's parts and its inevitable decay (AN6.29).

5. Meditation on the Signless

The practice of signless meditation is recommended for discarding the tendency to conceit (SN8.4). This technique involves not attending to any signs or attributes of phenomena.

Description in the Suttas of Living Without Conceit

The state of being free from conceit is described in the suttas as one of profound peace and equanimity. E.g.:

1. One does not think in terms of better, worse, or equal (AN6.49).

2. While using personal pronouns conventionally, there's no underlying belief in a substantial self (SN1.25).

3. Not attaching self to experience and the objects of experience, even significant changes do not cause distress (SN21.2).

4. One does not identify with or claim ownership of experiences, including meditative states (SN28.1-9).

Conclusion

Actionizing and operationalizing all of this requires a lot of patient and diligent letting go, making space, and softening in the vipassana journey into nature of things as they come into being. A consistent practice, and a willingness to let go of deeply ingrained habits of mind. But I think placing this fight near or right at the beginning holds a lot of benefit. Of only because it saves a lot of mental struggle and hanging-on's of avijja. But beyond that there's something in the experience of softening all of sharp corners of ones thoughts and the sharp corners where the spaces of thought and feeling take hold that is truly beautiful. But one misses out on it without this māna-vimutta.

buddhaṃ saraṇaṃ gacchāmi.
dhammaṃ saraṇaṃ gacchāmi
saṅghaṃ saraṇaṃ gacchāmi
Dutiyampi Buddham Saranam Gacchâmi.
Dutiyampi Dhammam Saranam Gacchâmi.
Dutiyampi Sangham Saranam Gacchâmi.
Tatiyampi Buddham Saranarn Gacchâmi.
Tatiyampi Dhammam Saranam Gacchâmi.
Tatiyampi Sangham Saranam Gacchâmi.

GLOSSARY

buddhaṃ: buddha-, Adj.: p.p. of the verb budh-, to awaken. Awakened One, Enlightened One. Here as a noun: a being who has attained nirvana. The historical Buddha Shakyamuni. Acc.Sg.: buddhaṃ.

saraṇaṃ: saraṇa-, N.n.: refuge. Acc.Sg.: saraṇaṃ.

gacchāmi: verb gam-, to go. Here 1st person singular of active indicative, present tense: I go.

dhammaṃ: dhamma-, N.m.: Buddha's Teaching. The Law. Derived from the verb dha-, to hold. Thus dhamma "holds the world together". Acc.Sg.: dhammaṃ.

saṅghaṃ: saṅgha-, N.m.: community. The community of the Buddha's followers. It is of two kinds: the saṅgha of lay followers and the saṅgha of monks and nuns. Acc.Sg.: saṅghaṃ.

dutiyaṃ: second time (accusative of dutiya)

tatiyaṃ: third time (accusative of tatiya, third used adverbially)

Source:

Research Center for Digital Humanities, NTU. “Digital Library and Museum of Buddhist Studies.” (1995). http://doi:10.6681/NTURCDH.DB_DLMBS/Collection. March-4-2024.

Gair, James W, Karunatillake, W.S.. A New Course in Reading Pāli. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1998. Text

“Bhikkhus, develop concentration. A bhikkhu who is concentrated understands things as they have become.”
SN 35.99

The concept of samādhi, derived from the Pali terms sam + a+dhi meaning "put together" or "collected," is a state of mental unification or composure that is central to Buddhist meditative disciplines. This state can manifest in various forms, from the tranquility of śamatha to the clarity of insight meditation, highlighting its versatile role in the path to enlightenment. While commonly defined as a state of meditative concentration, Bante Punnaji Maha Thera convincingly, to me at least, in discussion of the Seven Factors of Awakening (satta bojjhanga), argues that a better translation would be 'state of mental equilibrium'.

Samādhi is notably diverse in its applications, from being referenced with regards to walking meditation (AN 5.29) to the contemplation of the five aggregates and the four foundations of mindfulness (satipatthanas), illustrating its broad relevance across different meditative practices. The Buddhist discourses, particularly the Aṅguttara Nikāya and the Saṅgītisutta, elaborate on different types of samādhi, such as those leading to calm abidings through the jhānas, knowledge and vision through the perception of light, mindfulness and clear comprehension by contemplating the arising and passing away of feelings, perceptions, and mental fabrications, and the ultimate goal of destroying the āsavas --mental defilements or karmic vectors that condiction the grasping through which samsāra is perpetuated.

The Saṅgītisutta furthers elaborates on the nature of samādhi by distinguishing between empty, signless, or desireless concentration, with each type associated with specific insight developments like not-self (anattā), impermanence (anicca), or unhappiness (dukkha). The commentary on these distinctions emphasizes the importance of samādhi in developing deep insights based on one's focus during meditation.

The Saṅgītisutta and other texts also describe samādhi in terms of its concentration levels, including those with 1) initial and sustained application of the mind; 2) without initial but sustained application; and 3) without both, illustrating the gradations of mental absorption.

This nuanced approach is further explored in the Abhidhamma, which presents a schematic classification of the jhānas, aligning them with the broader spectrum of samādhi states, although not without controvery. But that we will explore further another day.

The Visuddhimagga adds another layer of distinction by differentiating between mundane and supramundane samādhi, access concentration, and absorption proper, highlighting the progression from preliminary stages of mental unification to deeper states of meditative absorption. This progression is marked by a shift from intermittent cognitive activity to sustained periods of pure cognition, a hallmark of deep samādhi.

Samādhi's role is further elaborated on in the Dasuttara Sutta in the context of the gradual path of training, where it elaborates on the forms of concentration conducive to decline, conducive to stability, conducive to distinction, and conducive to penetration.

The Iddhipādāsamyutta presents another angle on the topic of concentration through its discussion of the four roads to psychic power (iddhipādā). The four roads share common need for effort and will power but are distinguished by the type of concentration demanded.

In order for such powers to be developed, the samadhi factors themselves need to be strengthened. The gradual path of training samādhi is built on the foundation of virtue (sila). From there, restraint of the sense-doors to overcome sensory distraction and attachment, contentment to not seek out distraction and sense-pleasures, moderation in eating to avoid drowsiness, and the development of mindfulness and right effort. These preparatory practices facilitate the overcoming of hindrances and the cultivation of deeper levels of concentration, leading to joy, tranquility, and ultimately, equanimity and a purity of mindfulness dropping pleasures and suffering (adukkhamasukha).

The Cūḷavedallasutta makes clear that there are requisites or tools (parikkhāra) needed for the development of samādhi. Specifically, it mentions the four right exertions

and the four foundations of mindfulness.

Meanwhile, we learn from the Mahāassapurasutta that right effort itself is to find its expression in the practice of wakefulness --a practice of cleaning of mind of obstructive states-- and the cultivation of mindfulness. Mindfulness here takes the specific form of a clear comprehension of all bodily activity.

With wakefulnes and mindfulness we may overcome the five hinderances. Once they are overcome, delight (pāmojja) and joy (pīti) arise, followed by tranquility (passaddhi) and happiness (sukha) may arise, which naturally leads to samādhi.

The discourses and commentaries underscore the indispensability of samādhi for developing insight and achieving enlightenment. This is reflected in the various classifications of samādhi related to the noble eightfold path, the roads to power (iddhipada), and the factors of awakening (bojjhanga), each highlighting different aspects and benefits of samādhi, including the potential for developing supernormal powers.

Its inclusion in the noble eightfold path as right concentration, underscores its essential role in the pursuit of awakening. While the depth of jhāna attainment required for achieving various stages of enlightenment is a subject of discussion, the texts suggest that even preliminary forms of samādhi can be instrumental in overcoming hindrances and realizing key stages on the path to awakening.

_{Notes on "Protecting Oneself and Others Through Mindfulness -- The Acrobat Simile in the Samyukta-āgama by Bhikku Analyo. Sedaka Sutta translation by Bhikkhu Sujato}

"[Y]ou should look after yourself, and I’ll look after myself. That’s how, guarding and looking after ourselves, we’ll display our skill, collect our fee, and get down safely from the bamboo pole."

Acrobatic performance is known for its pushing of physical limits, its potential danger, and for requiring the acquisition of a level of skill, strength and flexibility. The cognitive capacity of mindfulness while executing the complex interpersonal activities, it is suggested, allows one to execute these tasks in a way that is sustainable, safe, reliable and maximizes ones ability to be successful at them. In the sense that one performs acrobatics to receive recompense, and well executed performance increases the probability and quantity of recompense, one might presuppose that any similarly posed objective would do well to be mindful (sati) of the nature and quality of execution.

The simile presents two type of complexity that the mind must juggle: 1) a performance or execution complexity that incompasses both the physical-- as mentioned above, strength, conditioning, flexibility, coordination and balance--, somatic --e.g. spatial awareness--, and the mental --such as concentration, focus, the sharp modulation of fears and risks, and memorization; and 2) social and/or interpersonal complexity --as exemplified in verbal and physical communication, co-ordinative and co-operative tasks. This entails a "looking after" both of ones inner and external being, as well as a looking after of others. We should look after ourselves as others benefit from us being looked after.

Self/Other

"It’s just as Medakathālikā said to her teacher. Thinking ‘I’ll look after myself,’ you should cultivate mindfulness meditation. Thinking ‘I’ll look after others,’ you should cultivate mindfulness meditation. Looking after yourself, you look after others; and looking after others, you look after yourself."

A weak way that this could be interpreted is that we should look after others as we would benefit from others looking after us. A stronger, less atomistic, way to see the "looking after yourself, you look after others" is to see it as denying separation of self and other. This appears to be the correct way of interpreting it as it aligns with with the Anattalakkhaṇa, Śūnya and Mahānidāna Suttas.

The Gatekeeper

Having deductively deconstructed the notion of self in the the Anattalakkhana Sutta, used causal deduction in the Mahānidāna Sutta and analytical logic, causal reasoning,and empirical inquiry to demonstrate the nature of the five aggregates underlying notions of self in the Śūnya Sutta, one comes to understand that the protective, gatekeeper function of mindfulness is at once both spontaneous and reflexive one the one hand, and something capable of great cultivation and development on the other.

Ñāṇaponika (1968/1986: 35 and 23) explains: "Just as certain reflex movements automatically protect the body, similarly the mind needs spontaneous spiritual and moral self-protection. The practice of bare attention will provide this vital function". "The non-violent procedure of bare attention endows the meditator with the light but sure touch so essential for handling the ... evasive and refractory nature of the mind. It also enables him to deal smoothly with the various difficult situations and obstacles met with in daily life".

Alanyo p. 4

The spontaneous capacity and function of mindfulness which protects us, and wakes us up in moments when states of mental accuity and wakefulness become critical for the body's survival, is for the first time in these Suttas presented in its full capacity for also allowing the human to course correct, develop in extensive ways, and remove the causes of its restless, ceaseless dis-ease --its' state being ill-at-ease.

In making one aware of what is happening in the mind, we come to see head on, the "unwholesome", unproductive, and harmful thoughts, fixations and reactions passing through. Without establish mindfulness, the three poisons of confusion, greed and aversion/hate can cause limitless damage with no hinderances, they can disguise themselves, and find limitless justifications and rationalizations, existing unimpeded in our lives, as is unfortunate inevitabilities.

At an initial stage mindfulness allows us to catch them in the act, masks on, excuses in the process of being uttered or acccepted. "I am angry." "I am craving". "I am not seeing things as they are". Bare attention directed to myself reveals and acts as a sort of doorman/bouncer at the entrance of the sometimes raucous club, sometime tranquil garden of the mind.

At an elevated state this same capacity of mindfulness can facilitate a deepening of the activities of mental cultivation, through tranquility and insight, to attain realization, to halt dis-ease and the outward damage these impulses of greed, aversions and confusions (in all of their many guises) cause for others.

Protecting Others

In order to protect others well, one must first attain a handle over ones own mental afflictions, ones own poisons of confusion, greed and aversion/hate. Only then can one be sure that ones help is actually help, that ones protection actually protects. But equally, they who have looked after their minds, bring to themselves somewhat a protection in the form of the disarming nature such a mind has on external violence meeting no mirror, confusion, green and aversion meeting no mirror.

References

• Bhikkhu Anālayo 2011: "Protecting Oneself and Others Through Mindfulness – The Acrobat Simile in the Saṃyukta-āgama"

• Ñāṇaponika Thera 1968/1986: The Power of Mindfulness, Kandy: Buddhist Publication Society