I first studied Buddhism at the University of Montana, Missoula, in 2000. It was a different time then. Higher education was focused on creating a whole person, a whole citizen. Today it seems that concerns about grades and jobs dominate. Not to mention the rise in costs.
Along with the Buddhism class, I also took a course on Buddhist meditation for additional credits. I also took a meditation field trip—essentially a weekend retreat. I am grateful for the opportunities I had back then and hope that young people today are finding similar chances to stretch beyond their boundaries and conceptions of what is possible in life.
The classes, and retreat at a nearby “experimental forest” (Missoula’s university is famous for its forestry department, which has its own forest to use as a living classroom), changed the direction of my life. Among the many amazing people I met and things I learned was about selflessness.
Selflessness
Selflessness can mean many things to different people. In Buddhism it is a common translation of a rather technical term. The term is anattā in Pāli or anātman in Sanskrit. Each term is the negation of a substantial self. It literally means either no-self or not-self. Sometimes people translate it as non-self.
The point of the teaching for the Buddha is that we cannot identify anything in our experience as our “self.” This “self” would have to be something that is unchanging and that we could control. So everything we experience, from sensations of and in our body to the thoughts in our minds are not our self. With this idea, the Buddha was arguing against other philosophers of his time who said that they could experience the self and then transcend reality or escape suffering.
For the Buddha, understanding not-self was actually a key aspect of escaping suffering. Put simply, once you understand not-self, there is no “you” to suffer. Suffering still happens, a stubbed toe or hunger pains or old age. But since you see that these are absolutely part of the nature of having a body and are part of the flow of life, “you” no longer identify with them, and “you” no longer suffer.
For Buddhist philosophy this is important because so much of the suffering in our lives is actually caused by our identifying with suffering and even clinging to it. We refuse to let it go and move on. Small sufferings become massive sufferings. Sometimes we create elaborate stories of how we suffered, wasting time and reliving the suffering needlessly. Sometimes we seek revenge, dwelling in the suffering and perhaps hurting others. And then we feel bad about that, or we live in fear of that revenge coming back.
Relationship
The idea also helps us connect with others more deeply. Letting go of past hurts and the stories we tell around them leaves us open to new people. Of course, if we start to recognize the proverbial “red flags” in a new person, reminding us of those past hurts, then we can move on. But most people we meet won’t be problematic and they deserve a chance.
As we do connect with more people, the not-self idea can manifest in other, more beneficial ways. Whether we know it or not, every person who has ever been in our lives continues on within us. And everyone who was in their lives is in us. And so on into infinity. In this way, we are connected to all people in our past and throughout the world.
The wonderful Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh poetically describes this with the metaphor of a cloud. A cloud never dies. It only changes form. For Thich Nhat Hanh, this is true for all who we encounter in life. None is truly ever gone. They only change form.
As we open ourselves to one another, we live in them and they live in us. We “inter-are.” This is the term Thich Nhat Hanh coined to describe this phenomenon. A joke might help. There once was a boy and his teacher. His teacher asked him how old he is and the boy answered, “six.” And the teacher asked how old his mother is and the boy answered, “six.” “That can’t be right,” said the teacher. But the boy explained, “before I was born, she was not a mother. So she has only been a mother for six years, the time I’ve been alive.”
Just as a child only exists due to his or her parents, none of us are parents until we have a child. Parent and child inter-are.
Serving others
Letting go of our cherished notions of self also opens us up to helping others. This, many will tell you, is both a source of great happiness in the here and now and a guide to greater meaning in life. Realizing that my “self” doesn’t end with me is easy enough with my wife and daughter. It gets a little harder with family farther away, and it’s very difficult to conceive of with perfect strangers all around the world.
But the teaching is there nonetheless. Ideally, without a “self” to get in the way, what needs to get done to help others simply gets done. Great philanthropists throughout time have marveled at the curiosity they attract. For them, feeding a community can be as easy as feeding themselves in the morning. You see a need, you have the ability to fulfill it, you do. It’s that easy.
Taking joy in focusing on what we can do
Having no self might also take the pressure off sometimes. As a parent or partner, we might think we need to have all of the answers or satisfy all of the needs. But we learn quickly that this is not our place. Even a tiny baby quickly develops some independence and can do just fine without us hoovering over them constantly. Kids even do better if we can give them (safe!) space to learn and make mistakes on their own.
Stepping back, we let experience and growing wisdom teach our children. Sometimes we do the same with our partners, just listening and allowing them to find their own way to a solution. We can find this works in much of life. We step in as needed, but only to ensure a safe space for others to live and flourish. With that, we all flourish, together.
