Welcome to Shunyata Dreams

I am starting this blog as a vehicle to communicate my ideas and experience’s regarding mindfulness practice. My primary reason for doing this is to share what I have learned with friends who are traveling, and have traveled with me, on this path. I have read and thought extensively on this subject, although I must admit that when it comes to practice I am a novice compared to others far more experienced than myself. Now, you’re probably asking yourself that if this is the case why would you want to spend some time with me here, when you could be reading the masters or go off on a retreat? And I would encourage you to read and retreat as much as you are able. However, we are all traveling on the path of truth, though our individual paths may differ: some clogged by thickets, some very steep and rocky, while others are as clear and smooth as an asphalt bike path. Regardless of the terrain, we are all searching for the truth of ourselves and this wonderfully confusing life we live. Taken in this light, sharing each others paths is a good and practical way to learn about each other and from each other.

If you choose to spend some time with me, taking a stroll down my path, that would be wonderful; otherwise, I wish you well on the path that you are traveling.

The name of this blog, “Shunyata Dreams”, may be a little confusing to some, because it seems to imply a contradiction of sorts. Shunyata means “emptiness”. Knowing the definition, it might seem a little ridiculous that one would want to dream of emptiness or dream of leading a life of emptiness. Sounds pretty negative, doesn’t it? Talking about a practice to commit suicide by! Not only that, but dreams, or one’s dreams, usually imply something far more positive: “I dream of a life without suffering, or my dream is to be happier.” In the Buddhist lexicon, the idea of emptiness simply means that there is no such thing as an inherent existence or an independent reality. We are not, as we believe, completely self-contained entities. I ask you not to take my word on this, but challenge you to test this hypothesis. Let’s try a little experiment. Exhale all of the air from you lungs. Now quickly pinch your nostrils closed and clamp your hand over your mouth. What is this independent entity that you call the self experiencing right now? Do you feel a little panicky? I’m not surprised. We all know that without oxygen we would cease to exist. It’s amazing how we take for granted something as simple as the act of breathing. But it is from this simple act that we come to understand on a deeper level that our bodies would not exist if they were unable to take in and digest the things of the world. So, when we breath in the world, it is the world that breaths us out. The term for this is dependent co-arising. Everything that exists relies on another for its survival. Let’s call this the Great Community of Being. It is for this reason that all things are empty of an inherent, independent existence.

If nothing is independent of another, then how can we define the self? Of course, we need a sense of self in order to successfully navigate the world. But what exactly is the self? This is one of the great philosophical questions. Who Am I? What Am I? The Buddhists teach us that what we believe to be the self is made up of five aggregates: body, feeling, thought, perception and consciousness. But where is the contained, never changing Self? The one we recognize and have known for all of our lives? If you closely observe these aggregates you will see that they are in continual flux. One moment you are angry, the next moment you are happy and at peace. One moment you have a pain in your leg, the next moment it is gone. One moment you are young and the next moment you are old. Are you the same person now that you were at five years old? Probably not. Throughout our lives, from birth to death, in each moment of our existence, we are continually changing. If we look at the world, and beyond to the universe at large, we will also see that things are constantly moving and transforming, impacting other objects within their sphere of influence—a great rippling effect from invisible subatomic particles to vast galaxies sparkling like diamonds in an ocean of darkness.

This picture may seem a little depressing. I mean, really, what is the point of it all, if I am nothing but a conglomeration of parts that are in continual flux? The beauty of this lies in idea that we are not only defined by our parts, our sense of self, but by something far greater, something that encompasses the universe. On a more practical scale, we are able to see that it is our clinging to the notion of self—our body, emotions, thoughts, perceptions and consciousness—that is the cause of our suffering. Through the experience of Shunyata, we can discover a great spaciousness, a way of being open to all things without attempting to define those things through the filter of the story of the self. It is through Shunyata that we find liberation from our suffering.

And what about our dreams? It can reasonably be argued that our dreams hold us back from experiencing life in its immediacy, that our dreams are symbols of what we desire, and that desire is the root cause of suffering. Desire without a foundation of mindfulness will always leave us mired in the identification of the five aggregates as self. It keeps the wall up between us and the world. It blinds us to the fact of the world as self, that we are all manifestations of the one, participants in the great cosmic dance of energy expressing itself in multitudinous forms. But herein lays the contradiction: without our dreams, our imagination, we are unable to discover the vast spaciousness of mind, the gateless gate into which we must pass in order to attain liberation.