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Dharmette: Buddha Before Buddhism (1 of 5) Intro to His Message of Peace; Guided Meditation: Gentle "No" - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on December 02, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Guided Meditation: Gentle "No"

Hello and welcome to this Monday meditation session. It is very nice to have all of you along. To all of you who are sending greetings, thank you. I know so many of your names, either from other occasions or from seeing them here on the YouTube chat. For all of you who are not chatting, I welcome you wholeheartedly. If I were attending this kind of session, I probably would not be chatting and saying hello. Believe it or not, I tend to be a little bit shy.

There are two words that I like a lot as supports for meditation: "yes" and "no." A very interesting aspect of human life is that, functionally, our behavior might be exactly the same whether we say yes or no.

If I find that my hands are dirty, as mine were yesterday working in the garden, I might say "no" to keeping my hands dirty before I go into the house to make dinner. Or, I might say "yes" to having clean hands so I can make dinner. The "no" and the "yes" both have the same function: I clean my hands.

If my mind is caught in obsessions of some kind, I could say "no" to those obsessions, or I could say "yes" to the awareness that is free of obsessions. Sometimes it seems really good for me to just say "yes." I like that a lot—yes to being aware. Sometimes it brings me a smile to say "yes" to being aware of obsessions or thinking, because in that "yes," awareness is stepping away and becoming free. I have to have something to be aware of. It delights me that I can be aware of something that is perhaps difficult, or aware of the ways I am caught up, while becoming free.

Alternatively, I could say "no" to the obsessions. I can say, "No, don't want to do that, no thank you," in a way that leaves me being aware.

For today, I would like to suggest in the most loving, generous, kind, and supportive way that you introduce the word "no." There is something very strong in the self claiming our place, claiming our independence, and claiming ourselves here, free of being caught in things.

"No" indicates this freedom. Just a gentle "no" to keep thinking about this. "No" to keep pushing something away. "No" to wanting something or expecting something.

It is not a "no" that pushes anything away or rejects anything. It is a very particular "no" that says "no" to being involved with it, to picking it up, to perpetuating it, or to being caught. It is not a rejecting of anything. It is just like saying, "No, I'm not going to do this. I'm not going to continue doing this." The mind and heart might have their own ideas, and things continue, but you just gently say "no," stepping away. It is like releasing from your hands something that is very unpleasant to hold.

See if that loving "no" can help you stay aware and connected to the present moment. Say the "no" so that you are more here with whatever is here.

To assume a meditation posture, gently lower your gaze or close your eyes.

Without doing anything else, appreciate what it is like for you at this moment to be aware. Are you sleepy? Are you eager? Is there clarity? Is there dullness? Is your awareness being pulled into your thoughts and preoccupations? What is it like to be aware?

If you are aware, take a few moments to be aware of how you are consciously and intentionally feeling, noticing, and recognizing how you are in your meditation posture. It is as if you have permission to be this way, but rather than being lost in it, you are knowing it and recognizing it.

Take a few long, slow, deep breaths. As you exhale, relax and soften in the body. Maybe on the deeper inhale, feel the different parts of your body that you can relax as you exhale.

Let your breathing return to normal. For a little while, continue the same exercise with a more or less normal breath: feel some part of your body on the inhale where there might be tension or holding, and then soften and relax that holding or tightness as you exhale.

Then, as you inhale, feel the thinking mind—any tension, pressure, or contraction. As you exhale, soften in the thinking mind. Maybe relax the micro-muscles in the area of your brain, your head, your forehead, or your face that somehow are connected to thinking.

Settle into the body's experience of breathing, perhaps centering yourself on the body sensation of breathing.

If you find yourself involved in thinking, gently say "no" to being involved. If the thoughts are in the background and you are not particularly involved in them, let them be in the background. But if there is more involvement—if you are lost in them, reacting to them, picking them up, or participating—say a gentle "no" to doing all those things. Say "no" to step away into being more aware of what is happening.

If there are ways that you are concerned about things—almost nonverbally—or you find your attention is locked into some feeling, emotion, or sensation in the body, do not say "no" to the feelings or sensations themselves. Instead, in a kind way, say "no" to being involved with them or reacting to them. The "no" is so gentle and light that it, itself, is part of being free.

If you are not caught in anything, with a light touch, ride the inhales and exhales.

When you find yourself caught in thoughts or feelings, say "no" to being caught. Say "no" to being invested, holding on, or participating. Say "gentle no." You might need to say it a few times, thinking that it is an experiment in learning how to say "no." There is a wonderful feeling of freeing, stepping away, and making room—breathing room—for awareness.

And then, as we come to the end of this sitting, take a few moments to recognize and feel how you are right now. How are you now compared to how you were at the beginning of the meditation?

How is it to be aware? How is it to be mindful? Is there an appreciation for awareness itself? Appreciation for attention to the present moment? Appreciation for mindfulness? Maybe its simplicity as you sit here still in the meditation posture.

Might there be a healthy, wonderful, supportive way of saying "no"—lovingly "no"—to yourself?

When greed arises, "no" makes room for generosity.

When hostility or resentment arises, "no" makes room for respect, care, and love.

"No" to when all kinds of crazy, delusive thinking spin around. "No," so there is a better chance for wisdom, clarity, and awareness.

Is there a way of saying "no" to being shut off, pulled away, or aggressive in relationship to other people? A "no" that allows you to be there—all of you—present and attentive to others.

And with that full attention, to have goodwill. May the people you encounter today benefit from your ability to be awake, present, attentive, and aware without clinging or preoccupation. May that awareness be the vehicle for your goodwill.

May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings be peaceful. May all beings be free.

And may each of us, in any way we can, however small, contribute to the well-being of this world.

Thank you.

Dharmette: Buddha Before Buddhism (1 of 5) Intro to His Message of Peace

Hello and welcome to this Monday, when we start a new five-part series. For this week, I would like to introduce you to some of the main themes of ancient Buddhist teaching that I have studied and translated.

For about 20 years or so, I studied a particular Buddhist text that became foundational for supporting my orientation in Buddhist practice. Some of you know that some months ago I talked about "Core Buddhist Teachings" for how I teach, and that it is a naturalistic form of Buddhism. A lot of this is supported or inspired by a particular text that I translated and published as a book called The Buddha Before Buddhism.

The idea of calling it The Buddha Before Buddhism suggests something like the Buddha's teaching before Buddhism—or the Buddha's teaching before it became Buddhist. The idea is that over time—maybe even in his own lifetime, but certainly over generations—the teachings got more organized, systematized, developed, and expanded. The core simplicity of them sometimes got lost. The earliest version of these teachings was really radical in many ways in going back to the central core of practice.

The name of the text that I translated—the literal meaning in English—is "The Book of Eights"¹, which is a very uninspiring title. So I titled my translation and commentary The Buddha Before Buddhism so people would ask the question for themselves: "What might have been the earliest teachings of the Buddha before it became a religion?"

There are scholars who believe that this text is maybe the earliest, oldest Buddhist teaching that we have. Perhaps they were given in the first years of the Buddha's teaching, well before the layers that got added in the generations right after the Buddha.

I would like to read a short paragraph or two from the introduction:

"What may be perplexing to many is that the Book of Eights does not espouse a religious doctrine that exists in opposition to other doctrines, nor does it put forth a teaching that is meant to be seen as superior to other teachings. In a manner that challenges the religious beliefs of many people, including many Buddhists, the text explicitly denies the role of ultimate religious truths and religious knowledge in attaining personal peace.

Instead, the text points to a direct and simple approach for attaining peace without requiring adherence to any specific ideology. The possibility of this peace is what guided the teachings and practices in the text. The value of these teachings is not the profundity of their philosophy or their authority as scripture; rather, they are valuable for the results they bring to those who live by them. Instead of doctrines to be believed, the Book of Eights describes means or practices for realizing peace."

It is almost as if it is pulling the rug from underneath many of the usual ways in which people relate to religious teachings. People often involved in religion want their religion to be ultimate, to be the most amazing, the most wonderful, the most true. We have this big orientation towards having truth. Sometimes that gets in the way. Sometimes that leads to religious wars—"I have the truth and you don't."

Rather than lobbing onto the truth and knowing the certainty and assurance that you have what is most real and true, the whole orientation of this early text was to look in a different direction. To be concerned not with truth and ultimate truth, but to be concerned with peace.

"The goal put forth in the Book of Eights is described both in terms of states of mind to be attained and the mental activities to be abandoned. Peace and equanimity are the most common descriptions of what is attained. Clinging, craving, being entrenched, and quarreling are activities most frequently said to be abandoned. There is a clear relationship between the states to be attained and the activities to let go, in that to experience peace, one must release one's clinging."

I will read a couple of the poems that make up this text. Some of these poems have eight verses, and that is maybe why it is called "The Book of Eights."

"Having views about what is Ultimate, a person makes these the best in the world and calls other views inferior. As such, they have not gone beyond quarreling.

Seeing benefit in things seen, heard, and thought, or in precepts and religious practices, and then grasping at this, a person then sees all else as inferior.

What one relies on in order to see all else as inferior is an entanglement, say those who are skilled. One should therefore not depend on things seen, heard, or thought out, or on virtue and religious observances."

Pretty radical.

"Nor should they make up views of the world by means of knowledge, precepts, and religious observances. Nor should they think of themselves as inferior or superior to others... and they shouldn't take themselves as equal."

So neither better nor worse than others, and also not equal. What is left? What is left is letting go of what is taken up.

"The person free of grasping does not depend on knowledge, or take sides when factions disagree, or fall back on any kind of view. One not inclined to either side, to becoming or non-becoming, to here or the next world... there exists nothing to get entrenched in when considering the doctrines others grasp.

Here one does not conceive the slightest concept in regard to what is seen, heard, or thought. How in this world could one recognize a Brahman² who does not take hold of views?

One does not construct, prefer, or take up any doctrine. A Brahman, not led by precepts and religious practices, who has gone beyond, does not fall back on belief."

That person is one who is "Thus." This is a wonderful expression. Rather than being better than others, worse than others, inferior, or superior; rather than having ultimate teachings and seeing other teachings as being poor or bad, one lets go of all clinging—including to all stories and ideas of who one is. One who does thus is one who is Thus³.

I think it is a wonderfully generous thing to say, "Thus." Who are you? "Thus." Without definition. A "Thus" that includes all of who we are—no part left out—but it doesn't need to be named. It doesn't need to be constricted or limited in any way. The most unlimited way of saying "Who are you?" is saying, "I am thus. Like this." Open our arms and just say, "Whatever you see, whatever is here... with this." Why do I have to define it any more than that?

It is a very radical text. Over the next four days, I will go through four of the major themes in the text. Hopefully, you will appreciate a text that has been very important and inspiring for me. Maybe you will find this useful.

I will end with one more part of a poem from it. This is one of the most touching poems in the book, I feel, maybe in all of Buddhism, because the Buddha is talking about himself in a very touching way. He talks about how he was before he was enlightened, the process of coming to become enlightened, and his own anguish.

He says:

"Violence gives birth to fear. Just look at people and their quarrels. I will speak of my dismay and the way that I was shaken. Seeing people thrashing about like fish in little water, and seeing them feuding with each other, I became afraid.

The world is completely without a core. Everywhere things are changing. Wanting a place of my own, I saw nothing not already taken. I felt discontent on seeing only conflict. To the very end... Then I saw an arrow here, hard to see, embedded in the heart. Pierced by this arrow, people dash about in all directions. When the arrow is pulled out, people do not run, and they do not sink."

Pulling out the arrow is the core teaching of this text. That pulling out does not require ideology. It does not require Buddhist abstract teachings and philosophies. It is a very simple, direct message. Buddhism began with this message, and then there were maybe layers and layers of complications that got added over time. I find it very refreshing to go back to the simplicity of this text and be reminded of the simplicity of the path—the way to a profound form of peace.

That is the task for the next four days, to go through this a little more. I hope you do find it interesting.

Thank you.