John Welwood - The Play of The Mind (Article)
John Welwood - The Play of The Mind (Article)
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Form is emptiness, emptiness itself is form; emptiness is no other than form, form is no other
than emptiness. -Heart Sutra
In every crescendo of sensation, in every effort to recall, in every progress towards the
satisfaction of desire, this succession of an emptiness and fullness that have reference to
each other and are one flesh is the essence of the phenomenon. -William James
In the gap between thoughts nonconceptual wisdom shines continuously. -Milarepa
Western philosophy has studied the mind mainly through conceptual thought and rational
analysis; as a result, it has granted thinking, even "thinking about thinking," the highest
status. Modern depth psychology has gone beyond this traditional understanding by giving
greater importance to what eludes thought--subconscious feelings, wishes, impulses, images.
Yet modern psychology's view of mind remains limited because, in characteristic Western
fashion, it focuses on the contents of mind, while neglecting mind as an experiential process.
William James (1890, 255) was an early critic of psychology's tendency to overemphasize the
contents of the mind, while ignoring the flowing stream of consciousness itself--which for
him was like saying that
a river consists of nothing but pailsful, spoonsful, quartpotsful, barrelsful, and other molded
forms of water. Even were the pails and the pots all actually standing in the stream, still
between them the free water would continue to flow.
In directing attention toward the flow of consciousness, the free water that cannot be
confined to its molded forms, James comes close to the Buddhist understanding of everyday
mind as a mindstream, a continuous flow of moment-to-moment experiencing.
Buddhist psychology goes one step further, however. Beyond the static Western focus on
contents of mind and the more dynamic view of the mindstream as a flow of experiencing, it
recognizes a still larger dimension of mind--the presence of nonconceptual awareness, or
"nonthought," as it is sometimes called. In contrast to the forms that consciousness takes--
thought, feeling, perception--the larger nature of consciousness has no shape or form.
Therefore, it is often described as "emptiness." If the contents of mind are like pails and
buckets floating in a stream, and the mindstream is like the dynamic flowing of the water,
pure awareness is like the water itself in its essential wetness. Sometimes the water is still,
sometimes it is turbulent; yet it always remains as it is-wet, fluid, watery. In the same way,
pure awareness is never confined or disrupted by any mind-state. Therefore, it is the source
of liberation and true equanimity.
When we start to observe the play of the mind, what we most readily notice are the contents
of consciousness--the ongoing, overlapping sequence of perceptions, thoughts, feelings. As
we develop a subtler, finer, more sustained kind of witnessing, through a discipline like
meditation, we discover in addition to these differentiated mind-moments another aspect of
the mindstream that usually remains hidden: inarticulate gaps or spaces appearing between
our discrete thoughts, feelings, and perceptions. These spaces between the pailsful and
bucketsful of water floating in the stream are hard to see at first and impossible to remember
because they have no definite form or shape we can grasp. Yet if we do not try to grasp them,
these undifferentiated mind-moments can provide a glimpse of the larger reality that lies
beyond the mindstream: the pure ground of nonconceptual awareness that encompasses and
also surpasses all the activities of mind.
Thus the play of the mind includes three elements: differentiated and undifferentiated
mind-moments, and the larger background awareness in which the interplay between these
two takes place. In the Tibetan Mahamudra tradition, these three elements are known as
movement, stillness, and awareness. The alternation between movement and stillness--
differentiated and undifferentiated mind-moments--makes up the flowing stream of
consciousness that is the foreground level of mind. And through the relative stillness of the
silent spaces between thoughts we find a doorway into the essence of mind itself, the larger
background awareness that is present in both movement and stillness, without bias toward
give a melody its particular quality, rather than the particular tones themselves.
Thus music provides an interesting analogy for the interplay between form and emptiness
within the larger ecology of mind. Form is emptiness: the melody is actually a pattern of
intervals between the tones. Although a melody is usually thought of as a sequence of notes,
it is equally, if not more so, a sequence of spaces that the tones simply serve to mark off.
Emptiness is form: nonetheless, this pattern of intervals does make up a definite, unique
melodic progression that can be sung and remembered. And the ground of both the tones
and the intervals is the larger silence that encompasses the melody and allows it to stand out
and be heard.
Our usual addiction to the grasping tendency of mind causes us to overlook the spaces
around thoughts, the felt penumbra that gives our experience its subtle beauty and meaning.
Neglecting these fluid spaces within the mindstream contributes to a general tendency to
over-identify with the contents of our mind and to assume that we are the originator and
custodian of them. The troublesome equation "I = my thoughts about reality" creates a
narrowed self-sense, along with an anxiety about our thoughts as territory we have to defend.
Absolute Emptiness: The Larger Ground of Awareness
So far we have focused on gaps in the mindstream--spaces between thoughts, moments of
quiet--that represent a relative kind of emptiness. These gaps are relatively formless in
comparison to the more graspable forms of thought, perception, or emotion. And the stillness
in these gaps is only relative because it is easily disrupted or displaced by the next moment
of activity that occurs in the mindstream. This type of stillness is simply an experience
among experiences--what the Tibetans call nyam (temporary experience).
Beyond the relative emptiness we discover in these gaps in the mindstream there lies the
much larger, absolute emptiness of nonconceptual awareness, which Buddhism regards as
the very essence of mind. This nonconceptual awareness is an absolute stillness or
emptiness because its space and silence actually pervade, and thus cannot be displaced by,
whatever goes on in the mind. Meditation practice can help us find this larger stillness in
movement, this larger silence within sound, this nonthought within the very activity of
thinking.
Without sustained and disciplined inner attention, it is almost impossible to discover, enter,
or abide in this absolute ground of steady awareness. For as long as we skim along the
surface of consciousness, our moments of stillness are quickly disrupted by the activity of
thought, feeling, and perception. Meditation practice provides a direct way to tune into this
larger dimension of nonconceptual awareness. As one Tibetan text (Trungpa and Hookham
1974, 8) describes this discovery:
Sometimes in meditation there is a gap in normal consciousness, a sudden complete
openness. . . . It is a glimpse of reality, a sudden flash which occurs at first infrequently, and
then gradually more and more often. It may not be a particularly shattering or explosive
experience at all, just a moment of great simplicity.
Meditation is designed to help us move beyond the surface contents of the mind.
Underneath the mind's surface activity, the ocean of awareness remains perfectly at rest,
regardless of what is happening on its surface. As long as we are caught up in the waves of
thought and feeling, they appear solid and overwhelming. But if we can find the presence of
awareness within our thoughts and feelings, they lose their formal solidity and release their
fixations. In the words of Tibetan teacher Tarthang Tulku (1974, 9-10):
Stay in the the thoughts. Just be there. . . . You become the center of the thought. But there is
not really any center. . . . Yet at the same time, there is . . . complete openness. . . . If we can do
this, any thought becomes meditation.
In this way, meditation reveals the absolute stillness within both the mind's turbulence and
its relative calm.
Here then is the deeper sense in which form is emptiness: The essence of all thought and all
experience is complete openness and clarity. In this sense, Buddhist psychology provides an
understanding of mind that resembles the quantum physics view of matter. In quantum
field theories, "the classical contrast between the solid particles and the space surrounding
them is completely overcome" (Capra 1975, 210). Just as subatomic particles are intense
condensations of a larger energy field, so thoughts are momentary condensations of
awareness. Just as matter and space are but two aspects of a single unified field, so thought
and the spaces between thoughts are two aspects of the larger field of awareness, which Zen
master Suzuki (1970) described as "big mind." If small mind is the ongoing grasping and
fixating activity of focal attention, big mind is the background of this whole play--pure
presence and nonconceptual awareness.
The following diagram illustrates the relationship between the three aspects of mind
discussed here:
"""""
In this figure, the dots are like differentiated mind-moments, which stand out as separate
events because of the spaces between them. Although these spaces appear to be nothing in
comparison to the dots, they nonetheless provide the context that allows the dots to stand out
as what they are and that joins them together. The spaces between the dots also provide
entry points into the background, the white space of the page, which represents the larger
ground of pure awareness in which the interplay of form and emptiness takes place.
Big Mind
The big mind of pure awareness is a no-man's-land--a free, open reality without reference
points, property boundaries, or trail markers. Although it cannot be grasped as an object by
focal attention, it is not an article of faith. Quite the contrary, in the words of a Tibetan text,
"The nothingness in question is actually experienceable" (Guenther 1959, 54). Unfortunately,
when the untutored mind regards it as a mere blankness or nothingness, the jewel-like
radiance of this pure awareness becomes obscured. As Dzogchen teacher Tenzin Wangyal
(1997, 29) points out:
The gap between two thoughtsis essence. But if in that gap there is a lack of presence, it
becomes ignorance and we experience only a lack of awareness, almost an unconsciousness.
If there is presence in the gap, then we experience the dharmakaya [the ultimate].
The essence of meditation could be described quite simply, in Tenzin Wangyal's words, as
"presence in the gap"--as an act of nondual, unitive knowing that reveals the ground of being
in what at first appears to be nothing at all. As another Tibetan text (Guenther 1956, 269)
explains, "The foundation of sentient beings is without roots. . . . And this rootlessness is the
root of enlightenment." Only in the groundless ground of being can the dance of reality
unfold in all its luminous clarity.
References
Suzuki, Daisetz T. 1970. Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. New York: Walker, Weatherhill.
Trungpa, Chogyam, and M. Hookham, trans. 1974. "Maha Ati." Vajra 1:6-8.
Wangyal, Tenzin. 1997. A-Khrid Teachings. Vol. 2. Berkeley, CA: privately published.
[author's note:]
John Welwood, PhD, is a clinical psychologist and the associate editor of the Journal of
Transpersonal Psychology. He has been a student of Tibetan Buddhism for thirty years and
is the author of many articles and seven books. This article is excerpted from his latest book,
Toward a Psychology of Awakening: Buddhism, Psychotherapy, and the Path of Personal
and Spiritual Transformation (Shambhala, 2000). Copyright © John Welwood, 2000.