Episode Five - The Four Noble Truths

In this episode I talk about the Four Noble Truths – one of the central teachings of the Buddha. I also try to explain why there is so much emphasis on non-attachment in Buddhism and what is meant by ‘attachment’ or ‘craving’, and ‘non-attachment.’

Transcript

I am not sure why the so-called ‘four noble truths’ have become so popular within Buddhist circles – perhaps it is just another example of our tendency to desire a catchy saying or simple formula that sums-up complex matters. One well-known source of the Four Noble Truths is the difficult to pronounce, Dhammacakkappavattana Sutra– known to English-speakers as ‘Setting the Wheel of the Dharma in Motion’ – but they are also mentioned and discussed in other sutras. The Dhammacakkappavattana is believed by many Buddhists to be a description of the first teaching given by the Buddha in a deer park at Sarnath, near Varanasi in northern India– not long after his enlightenment experience. In a sense, the ‘truths’ can be seen as a mission statement by the Buddha – a syllabus for his life as a teacher.

Like many early Greek philosophers, the Buddha often makes an analogy between his role as a teacher and guide, and the work of a healer or doctor.

He provides a list of symptoms, a diagnosis as to illness and its causes, and a prescription as to what can be done to alleviate the condition and restore the patient’s wellbeing. Traditionally these are known as the Four Noble Truths. In many contemporary versions of the Noble Truths, they are described as follows:

The First Noble Truth is that all beings experience suffering, dissatisfaction, unease and disharmony – known as dukkha. This is presented as a fact of life – an inevitable consequence of being alive. Note that dukkha denotes not just pain and disease, but also the dissatisfactions, anxieties and frustrations that disturb and trouble us.

The Second Truth is that the causes of suffering and dissatisfaction are craving, desire or attachment – known as tanha in Pali. Often three kinds of attachment are described: one, attachment to sensory pleasures (kama tanha) – for instance, eating tasty meals or watching a favourite film or being with someone we love; two, attachment to particular states of being (bhava tanha) – for instance, wanting peace of mind or enlightenment; and three, the desire to be rid of a particular state of being (vibhava tanha) – for instance wanting to not be angry or wanting to be free of pain.

The Third Noble Truth is that there is a remedy or method for alleviating suffering and dissatisfaction – that is, by clearly investigating the causes of suffering, and letting go of incorrect beliefs and views. In other words, freeing ourselves from delusions about the nature of existence – known as avidya (often translated as ignorance’). Only by understanding why we suffer can we do something to ease our suffering.

The Fourth Noble Truth is an outline of the prescription, or method, for alleviating suffering. This is traditionally known as the Noble Eightfold Path – a list of eight skills which, if developed, will reduce suffering. I will come back to the Eightfold Path in another talk.

The key ideas being articulated here are that the impermanence of existence brings with it all kinds of suffering. To lessen our tendency to suffer we need to learn how to let go and to live more in harmony with impermanence. 

So, what is meant by the terms, ‘attachment’ and ‘non-attachment?’ And why is attachment so closely associated with dukkha, suffering? The Second Noble Truth suggests that one of the primary causes of suffering is ‘tanha’ – a Pali word, that literally means ‘thirst’ or ‘thirsting.’ The word ‘craving’ is a useful synonym – that is, the kind of low-level habitual craving for anything we want to persist, to go on longer, and for some things to stop. ‘Craving,’ ‘wanting’ or ‘over-attachment’ is probably a more appropriate term to keep in mind than ‘attachment.’ 

Imagine we are sitting in mindful meditation and suddenly a seemingly random thought materialises in our mind. We are intrigued. We say to ourselves ‘where did that come from? Why did I think that? Oh dear, I shouldn’t be thinking. I should be just sitting here, letting go of thoughts.’ All the thoughts that arise as a reaction to that first thought, are examples of our attachment. We hardly notice it is happening. Indeed, it is possible in normal circumstances we wouldn’t have noticed. It is only because we are sitting in quiet mindful meditation that we do notice it. 

What has happened is that we are hanging on to that initial random thought. Our reaction to it, an automatic reflex, is to attach ourselves to it, to dwell on it, comment, make judgments, spin all kinds of further thoughts and feelings around it. In this way does attachment work. Somehow there is an insistent habitual desire at work, a desire to continue the initial thought. We didn’t intend to do this. It just happened. Indeed, we were trying to be mindful, to be in the moment, to be letting-go instead of hanging-on. 

When sitting in zazen, mindful meditation, my intention is just to sit and pay attention – nothing more, nothing less. I am intending to be present rather than absent, awake rather than half-asleep, here rather than somewhere else. Anything else is not what I am intending to do. This is very different to sitting down with the intention of thinking about something, analysing something, figuring out what we are going to do – this is a different kind of activity, important for making our way in the world, but it is NOT zazen or mindful meditation.

The random thought, sensation or emotion that arises in meditation, or in any situation, is just that: a thought that comes along. It is pristine. One moment in a succession of moments. Enjoyable, maybe. Surprising, maybe. Disturbing, maybe. But, in itself, it is just a thought. Yet, in our habitual reactive mode of only being half-aware, half-awake, on auto-pilot - not really paying attention – the initial random thought, feeling or sensation is wrapped in a succession of comments, judgments and habitual reactions, that cloud, deaden and add weight to it. This is how our craving for things to continue works.

Somehow, the thought wasn’t enough. We wanted more. Dwelling on experiences is a form of dissatisfaction – a low-level, reactive, automatic response to almost any aspect of our lives. Pursuing a thought, or an emotion, or a sensation, chasing it, is, in a way to be possessed by it – a form of clinging or craving over which we have little control. 

Someone once said this, I can’t remember who: “Non-attachment doesn’t mean we don’t own things. It means we don’t allow things to own us.” In a nutshell, this is the type of non-attachment that we’re talking about. A Zen teacher expressed a similar idea in this way: “Everything breaks. Attachment is our unwillingness to face that reality.” Think of non-attachment as a way of not allowing things in your life to own you. Giving up attachment to a deluded search for permanence is the key understanding. Tanha, the thirst or craving for more, gives rise to incessant dissatisfaction – that is, dukkha, suffering. There are three ‘dis’s at work in dukkha: DISsatisfaction, DIScontent and DISease – that is we are often dissatisfied with how things are, we are not content with how things are, and we feel uneasy – we are not at ease or in harmony with how things are.

Deep down we have a tendency, reinforced by a lifetime of habit, to cling to anything and everything that comes along. We are always looking (craving) for the next experience, the next moment of peace or excitement, the next idea, the next person, the next thing – somehow dissatisfied with this present moment, with who we are, with how the world is. It is as if we cannot abide in this passing moment – instead we project forwards or backwards into the future or the past. Our dissatisfaction, our craving is a reaction against the transience of the moment – by hanging on to anything we seek to prolong it, make it more permanent. Attachment, craving, tanha is a manifestation of our inability to deal with impermanence.

When I sit in meditation, just sitting and paying attention, there are times, even now after fifty-seven years of practice, when I am wanting the next moment to be different – maybe to be more exciting, or more peaceful, or less anxious, or less painful, and so on. So often, I want things to be other than they are. This wanting (attachment) clouds everything in a haze of muddle, confusion and delusion. I have lost sight of the fact that this moment IS the moment – endlessly in motion - passing away even as it arrives. Sitting in zazen is my opportunity to face up to what is here and now, to accept what is and to let it pass. This is the only way I can see to free myself from the endless cycle of dissatisfaction and discontent.

It is vital not to misunderstand all this talk of non-attachment and letting-go, of clinging and craving, as meaning we should not enjoy life, or that we shouldn’t be setting goals for ourselves, or shouldn’t be active rather than passive. Being mindful is a way of generously embracing life – not as a possession but as a miracle of the moment. All joys, excitements and pleasures are more precious and delicious when they arise without craving them or hanging-on to them. If we experience them as passing experiences, as moments to be savoured and fully attended to, then the letting-go only adds to their magic and enjoyment. Paying attention and taking pleasure in each moment, is like the love we feel for our children – it is open, non-possessive and with no strings attached. The ‘strings attached’ expression is very apt. Being mindful is being awake to each moment of life with no sense of clinging or craving - sitting and experiencing with no strings attached.

The Zen teacher, Steve Hagen, tells the story of a man who came to see the Buddha because he had heard what a great teacher the Buddha was. The man was a farmer, and he told the Buddha of the endless problems in his life. Sometimes his fields were flooded, sometimes the ground was so parched nothing would grow. Sometimes he and his family had plenty to eat, sometimes they almost starved. Although he loved his wife, she sometimes nagged him and got on his nerves. And, though he loved his children, at times they were unruly and wouldn’t do as they were told. Having listed more and more of his problems, he ran out of steam and waited for the Buddha to suggest a way of solving all his difficulties. 

After a few moments, the Buddha said, ‘I can’t help you.’ 

The man was outraged and said: ‘What do you mean you can’t help me?’ 

The Buddha replied, ‘Everyone has problems. I have problems. You have problems. In fact, we all have eighty-three problems. Fix one, and another one still waits to be fixed. At some point you and your loved-ones will die – that’s a problem. A big problem.’ 

By this time the farmer was furious. ‘I thought you were a great teacher, a master of fixing problems. I thought you’d be able to help me. What good is your teaching?’ 

The Buddha was again silent for a few moments, and then said: ‘I can’t solve the eighty-three problems for you - you have to deal with those as best you can. But I may be able to help you with the eighty-fourth problem.’ 

‘The eighty-fourth problem!’ shrieked the farmer, ‘what’s the eighty-fourth problem?’ 

The Buddha smiled and said, quietly, ‘the eighty-fourth problem, is that you desperately want to not have any problems.’

Here endeth the story! Make what you will of it. I like the humour and the wisdom.

Getting back to a Zen-like brevity, the Insight meditation teacher, Jack Kornfield, once wrote on Twitter: “Everything that has a beginning has an ending. Make your peace with that and all will be well.” 

The Buddhist scholar, Stephen Batchelor, suggests we think in terms of a ‘Fourfold Task,’ rather than ‘Four Truths.’ In my own case, I have found it useful to think of the ‘four truths’ as four skills to be practiced as we negotiate the ups and downs of life – helping us to be less troubled and more at ease with whatever comes our way. The four skills, or ‘ways of being,’ are as follows:

One, recognise and accept how things are (that is, recognise the three marks of existence: anicca – impermanence; anatta – absence of any separate essence of existence; and dukkha – dissatisfaction or suffering); 

two, recognise how we tend to desire, and cling to, things, ideas, emotions and sensations;

three, realise that we can develop peace and clarity of mind by learning to let go of what is always changing and passing away; 

and four, learn to practice mindful enquiry and contemplation – developing ways to act in harmony with how things are (the eightfold path)

This is cumbersome! A simpler version might be:

One, wake up and accept how things are (impermanent and interdependent); two, recognise our futile tendency to cling to things, experiences and beings; three, realise that we can learn to let go – to live without craving; and four, practice mindful enquiry and mindful action. 

By developing these four skills, or arts of living, we can re-establish harmony with how things are (one of the primary meanings of the word, dharma) and in this way lessen our discontent, dissatisfaction and suffering.

REFERENCES

Batchelor, Stephen. 2015. After Buddhism: rethinking the Dharma for a secular age. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Hagen, Steve. 1999. Buddhism – plain and simple. London: Penguin Books.