There are countless phenomena or objects of knowledge or existents – these are all terms that refer to that which exists – and all of them exist in dependence upon various factors. That’s their conventional reality.
There are many ways in which things exist interdependently, but in order to understand how they’re empty of existing inherently, independently – the ultimate way they exist – it’s good to look at three ways in particular.
Let’s take the phenomenon called “I”: person, self, me, myself, mine: they’re all synonyms. A dog is a person, a buddha is a person, a hell being is a person, Hitler is a person, Mr. Trump is a person. They’re all terms referring to, broadly, a sentient being – well, a buddha’s not a sentient being, but that’s another discussion.
The first way in which the I exists is according to the law of cause and effect: in other words, the law of karma. There is an I that is the product of causes, but among all those causes you will not find – you cannot find – any I.
Generally speaking we know that things come into existence in dependence upon various causes, and when it comes to the I we usually just think of mother, father, and the external things, you know? The crucial point about karma is that I, the self, came into existence mainly in dependence upon causes that that person created, and that of course means in past lives; parents etc. are not the main causes.
This is huge: this view of karma strongly counteracts feelings of being a victim, someone else’s handiwork – either a creator or your parents: that who we are and what happens to us has nothing to do with us. We all feel this.
We feel we play no role in our lives, that things happen to us. We think that’s why we suffer: it all comes from out there; and we assume that it’s the responsibility of everyone else to make me happy: such hubris! That’s the self-centeredness of ego, you know, of attachment and anger. We’re all like that, it’s just a question of degree.
So already, by applying this first level of dependent arising we begin to take responsibility, stop blaming other people, become less attached, less angry. We know what we are and what we become is in our hands: this view brings real self-confidence and is a powerful way already of counteracting ego-grasping.
The second way that a person exists as a dependent arising, and more subtly, is delicious: a person – everything, in fact! – exists in dependence upon its parts, its bits and pieces. This is where we make big mistakes. If we look at the lamrim, it’s the one that they get us to try and investigate with the four-point analysis.
Buddha’s saying that we totally believe, from the depths of our bones, utterly and completely, that there is inside us somewhere, among all the other bits and pieces, among the thousands of parts of the body and the thousands of parts of the mind – the peepee, the kaka, the eyelashes, the nose, the anger, the jealousy, the love – a real, definite, findable, pointable, identifiable thing, a piece, as my friend Pende says, walking hand in hand with the other pieces, that’s called “I,” “me.”
This independent self: the Greeks call it an essence, the Hindus call it an atman, the Christians call it a soul: something unchanging, partless, independent, uncaused, permanent blah blah blah. Buddha says there’s no such thing. He’s not just being argumentative – he says such a thing, such a self, cannot exist, it’s just not viable.
The mistake is we believe utterly and completely that there is a self more or less like that inside us somewhere. “Yeah, that’s right, of course there is,” we’ll say. “What do you mean there isn’t! What are you talking about!” It’s just so automatic for everyone – the dogs and monkeys as well. Buddha says, “Don’t be ridiculous! There isn’t one!”
There’s an analysis we can do: I’ll say, “I’m holding a cup.” You know the meaning of those two words, so you’ll see immediately it’s true: 1. the person called Robina is holding 2. a cup.
If that’s a valid statement, you’d have to point out two things: a Robina, a person, that is separate from the cup – it’s very simple, isn’t it: you’d have to point out a cup that’s not the same as Robina: in other words, a cup and a Robina that are separate, that are different.
And you can point them out: there are, in fact, two things, each of which does not depend upon the other for their existence: if the cup breaks, Robina’s still intact; if Robina dies, cup is still fine, it does its job to hold tea. That’s simple math and logic.
Now let’s get more nuanced: “I have a nose.” How many things did I mention? Two things: nose and I. It’s two nouns just as cup and I are two nouns. Sounds the same, right? And in just the same way we can find a cup and a Robina we instinctively assume that we’re going to find an I and we’re going to find a nose: two separate, independent things.
Well, we can find the nose: there’s the nose, look, we can point it out. But where is the other thing, an I that is separate from and independent of the nose?
We believe there is – we never question – we believe there is an I inside us, sort of like an owner: “I” have a “nose”: two things. We just assume that in the same way that we can point out a nose we can also point out the owner, the I; in the same way that we know that there is a separate piece called nose that’s referred to by the word “nose,” we just assume that there’s a separate piece called I that’s referred to by the word “I.” We assume there are two findable, separate things.
If you say, “Robina, I think your nose is so ugly,” I’ll say, “How dare you insult me!” and you’ll say, “Robina, I did not insult you, I insulted your nose.” This sounds hilarious to us, but this is logical. As Lama Zopa says, if an I did exist – an independent little separate I in there – it would go, “Oh, phew, I’m glad she didn’t insult me. Poor nose must be feeling very bad.”
This is one mistake.
The other mistake we make is we think that the I is all of me. Well, the logical argument there is if the I is also the nose, and the I is the ear, and the I is the eyelash, and the I is the hair, and the I is the peepee, and the I is the brain, then as many bits and pieces that you’ve got is as many “I”s that you’ve got. Which is clearly ridiculous. As Lama Zopa says, the label can’t be the base.
The base of the label is the parts – the thing upon which we put the label I is the parts, the bits and pieces – therefore the label can’t be the parts.
If Robina were the parts – the same as the parts, synonymous with the parts – then saying, “I have a nose” would be redundant: it’s like saying, “Nose has a nose.” You’ve got to look at this to see it’s just not viable: the label can’t be the base. The parts are the basis upon which you put the label I.
Now we’re compelled to ask: “If there is no I among the causes, and there’s no I among the parts, then who runs the show?” Well, not only is there no little boss in there, we don’t need one! And this is because all the parts do just fine functioning as the I, doing the job of I. We need to think about that! Each piece, each part, does its job perfectly – no need for a bossy little I!
So, is there an I at all? Well, yes, there is. Buddha’s not saying there is no I – that is patently absurd. You don’t chuck the baby out with the bathwater.
There is an I that does exist: it is not the same as the parts but is nevertheless inseparable from the parts. The I is not independent of the parts but it’s different.
The I exists in dependence upon causes, in dependence upon parts, and, finally, in dependence upon the mind that labels it. Finally, what the I is, what the self is, what Robina is is the name or the label imputed by the mind upon the parts.
The I and everything that exists – everything, necessarily – is merely labeled: this is subtle dependent arising.
As Lama Zopa says, when we’ve realized the emptiness of the I, that there’s not an atom of I there, it’s as if there is no I. However, there is an I, but what does exist is so subtle it’s as if it doesn’t exist. This is the two truths: emptiness and dependent arising: they must come together.
This is the experience of the yogis.
So let’s go one step at a time unpacking and unraveling these delicious thoughts.