Unceasing Self

There is a tenet in Buddhism—a core principle, in fact—that is challenging for most Western minds to comprehend. It is the concept of “no self.” Many principles of Eastern religions and philosophy are difficult for us in the West to comprehend, because our cultures differ so much. For example, we in the West tend to view events in a linear fashion—we see history unfolding in a straight-line manner, from a point in the past and progressing upwards and outwards into the future. Those in the East view events more cyclically—history is a repetitive, periodic process that reoccurs again and again.

To the Western mind the concept of no self can even appear rather absurd, since we emphasize our individuality and our right to be a unique and autonomous being—while the Eastern mind is more likely to subsume itself into the common whole.

Maybe we could grasp the concept of no self better if we begin with a clear understanding of what the self is. Then we might be in a position to consider what it is not. A dictionary definition of the self is “a person's essential being that distinguishes them from others, especially considered as the object of introspection; or a person's particular nature or personality.”

Now, the Buddha is not strictly saying that there is no self—as if it doesn't exist. That's what many Westerners think and rebel against. We ask, Am I not a specific being, who has a “particular nature or personality?” The Buddhist point is that what we think is our essential being—our feelings, perceptions, and consciousness—is really not what we believe it is.  Sure, you have a material body, but that deeper, innate self that we think of as me is not really what we think it is. Let me try to explain. 

There are, in fact, two aspects of what we Westerners think of as the self, which Buddhism says are mistaken. The first is that we tend to think of our self as being a constant, immutable entity over time. Am I not essentially the same person now—someone whose basic essence is “me”—as I was at 10 years old? Well, no. We are more a process than a thing. That's even true physically—our cells are constantly regenerating. We are constantly in the process of unfolding into a new being.

Our second belief about the self that Buddhism claims is mistaken is that we tend to believe there is an intrinsic self—what we might consider to be our conscious self—that is in control. We can think of it as the executive (or CEO) of our mind that is in charge of it all. We have that amazing prefrontal cortex that we think is in command of it all. Well, no. Modern psychology has repeatedly demonstrated that the unconscious part of our brain—the part that we not only do not control, but are not even aware of—makes decisions on its own, causing us to take actions that our conscious mind was oblivious to. Only after the fact does our executive mind see what we did, and then does its best to make up a plausible story for our behavior.

So neither Buddhism nor modern psychology claims that the self literally does not exist. It's more that what we believe to be the self is not the fixed, encased thing we consider it to be. No, it's not that self at all. No self. It's more a process, more like a verb, than a noun. It's a flux… a flowing. Open your mind up to you being something much more vast.

Nobody Cares

When the word “nobody” is normally used, the intent is to describe the absence of a person... a lack of anyone... an empty space. If you go up to a house and knock on the door and get no answer—the door stays closed—you're likely to assume that nobody is home... the house is empty. We tend to feel there's some kind of deficiency when we use the term “nobody.”

In Buddhist meditation one is sometimes advised to think about being nobody—as a mental exercise, to ponder the possibility that you are not who you've come to believe you are; that there is another way of conceiving of your being. It can be an antidote to an ego that has gotten a little too puffed up, or a way to shake up your usual assumptions of yourself, or a way to cast off those attributes that your culture has planted in you. We can occasionally use a little deflation of our self-importance, in order to regain a more balanced perspective.

But I sometimes like to play with the concept of nobody, as if there really was a person named Nobody. It can put an amusing and curious twist on some familiar and pessimistic thoughts. When we're emotionally down, we sometimes wonder if anybody cares about us. But then we can console ourselves that Nobody cares! When I'm feeling down, telling myself that Nobody loves me can take the weight off the emotion.

Am I wandering aimlessly in life, feeling lost? Well, Nobody knows where I'm going; Nobody thinks I'm on the right track. The answers to the big questions in life tend to remain beyond us, such as Why am I here?, or What happens when I die?, or Will I find happiness? Some people think they have a response to these profound queries. They're fooling themselves, however, for Nobody really knows.

The world's wisest philosophers give us conflicting answers as to what consciousness is, or what our mind is. They disagree and argue endlessly—each sure he's right. I think they are all off base; for Nobody really knows.

Sometimes I think I might continue this idea during the next national election. We have in Washington, DC a bunch of childish politicians who do very little about fulfilling their functions. Maybe next time I'll vote neither Republican nor Democrat. I'll vote for Nobody, because Nobody is honest and Nobody will do anything to straighten this mess out.

So if you're feeling lost or confused and uncertain where to turn, take solace in the fact that you're not alone. Hey, Nobody cares. Nobody will help you out. Nobody is there for you.