The Literature of Limits: The Buddhist Horizon (Part II)

by Muhammad Aurangzeb Ahmad

Sesshu_-_View_of_Ama-no-Hashidate
Painting by Sesshu Toyo (1420-1506) who was a Japanese Zen painter trained in China.

In the previous article of this series I started with the exploration of the concept that every civilization eventually arrives at the edge of its own knowing. It was not meant to be exhaustive or a critique but rather exploration of certain themes in Western thinking. Based on the feedback I have decided to dive into Buddhist thinking to clarify the scope of this exploration. How Buddhist thought approached the limits of its thinking is very different from the West. For Buddhist thought, and dharmic thought in general, the problem of limits of knowledge was not that knowledge had limits. The problem was that we had mistaken our concepts for reality itself. What might appear as an impassable boundary was, on closer inspection, an illusion created by the mind’s need to divide the world into knower and known.

From its earliest philosophical formulations, Buddhism did not ask how far knowledge could reach. It asked instead whether the question itself was coherent. In the Pali cannon there are fourteen questions that Buddha is said to have described as being unanswerable. The task of thought was not to extend reason to its horizon, but to dissolve the horizon altogether. The literature that emerged from this tradition does not always accumulate answers. It erodes the ground on which answering stands, the most well known examples being from Zen Buddhism. In contrast to Western thinking, the Buddhist literature of limits offers neither mastery nor despair, but release. This is way of seeing in which the limits dissolve precisely because the self that sought it gives way. This way of thinking can be epitomized by the most radical thinker of Buddhist philosophy, Nagarjuna sought to dismantle the very conditions that make limits intelligible. In the Mulamadhyamakakarika, he applies relentless logic to every fundamental concept whether it is cause, substance, self, or time. The goal is to show that each of these collapses under analysis. Things do not exist independently, nor do they fail to exist. According to Nagarjuna, they arise only in dependence, empty of fixed essence.

From here, we move to the limits of language. Read more »

Friday, August 29, 2025

My Unirritating Breathing Meditation

by Scott Samuelson

Though I can’t say that I’ve made any great effort to learn how to meditate or be mindful, the experiences I’ve had have left me cold. Not only am I no good at emptying my mind, I don’t want to empty my mind. I enjoy thinking. Plus, the only times I’ve been anything like “mindful” have been precisely the times when I wasn’t at all focused on being mindful.

Scroll in Kōmyō-in Temple, Kyoto

While an enviously calm slow breathy voice is intoning, “Breathe in . . . breathe out . . . focus on each breath . . . let go of your thoughts,” I’m thinking, “Can I consciously let go of consciousness? Wait, I’m thinking about not thinking—stop that. Now I’m thinking about thinking about not thinking. Why am I trying to let go of my thoughts, anyway? Isn’t not-thinking what evil people want you to do? Also, I’m beginning to feel light-headed.” It doesn’t help that I’ve hated sitting cross-legged on the floor ever since kindergarten.

Still, I like the idea of a meditative practice that makes use of the one thing that we’re always doing—unless we’re underwater or dead. Like anyone, I can go down bad mental rabbit holes and am prone to all the clingy egocentrism that spiritual traditions rail against. I could use a calming mental discipline—so long as it doesn’t involve trying to space out with my fingers in a weird formation.

So, I decided to come up with my own breathing meditation. After a few months of trying it out, I’m pleased to say that it works marvelously and avoids the pitfalls of my previous experiences.

Friends inform me that it’s actually a form of Zen meditation. That makes sense, because all the good original ideas I’ve ever had turn out to be unoriginal. Also, whenever I’ve read Zen poets or philosophers, or wandered in actual Zen gardens, I’ve felt like I was in the presence of something usefully useless. Read more »

Monday, June 26, 2017

On Awareness, pt. 1

by Evan Edwards

Nan-in

There’s a zen koan about master Nan-in and a younger monk, Tenno, who had been studying with his teacher for ten years. Tradition went that a student had to study this long before they were qualified to begin teaching, and Nan-in had invited Tenno over for tea to celebrate his pupilship coming to an end. Since it was raining that day, Tenno wore clogs and brought an umbrella, and left them by the door when he entered Nan-in’s home. After his guest had sat down, Nan-in asked Tenno, “I assume that since it is raining, you brought an umbrella. Correct? And did you put it on the left or the right of your clogs?” When he didn’t have an immediate answer, Tenno stood up and returned to the monastery in order to continue as a student for six more years.

The story is usually interpreted as an illustration of the value of attention and, more importantly, what we might call ‘awareness.’ Because Tenno was unable to recall the position of his umbrella, or perhaps better, because he was unaware of how he had arranged his things in the other room, he was not practicing “every-minute zen.” In other koans, the theme of the significance of attention and awareness return again and again. A student asked Master Ichu to write him something of great wisdom. Ichu took up his pen and wrote “attention.” The student asked Ichu what “attention” meant, and he responded that “attention means attention.” This theme seems to be so recurrent because, as individuals in the Vipassana school argue, nirvana, as a kind of “Budda-consciousness,” has to do with a particular state of vijnana, or “consciousness.” This kind of consciousness is a state of perfect awareness.

Certain strains of ecology and western environmental philosophy, also, stress the importance of awareness. In the work of Henry David Thoreau, we see an intense attention to nature that has been described by several commentators as an attempt to integrate himself more fully, and therefore live more authentically, within the web of life. Read more »