Despite
appearances, everything is the same. This is the major idea behind Hua-yen Buddhism,
a form of Chinese Buddhism that focuses on metaphysics, namely, the nature of
the universe and what exists within it. In the Hua-yen world-view, everything
is part of an interrelated “jeweled net” (called Indra’s net) with each jewel in the net being identical. So too is
everything said to be “empty,” which is what today’s quote focuses on:
From
Francis Cook’s Hua-yen Buddhism: TheJewel Net of Indra (1977):
“Things can only exist because they
are empty…emptiness cannot exist apart from entities, since emptiness is a
relationship between entities: they create each other, are thoroughly
interfused, and in fact are one and the same things.”
Before
we get into emptiness, let’s look at what Indra’s net is. A good description of
Indra’s net comes from the Avatamsaka Sutra, an important text to Hua-yen philosophy
that describes the universe and the various Buddhas and bodhisattvas within it:
“Far away in the heavenly abode of the great
god Indra, there is a wonderful net which has been hung by some cunning
artificer in such a manner that it stretches out infinitely in all
directions…the artificer has hung a single glittering jewel in each ‘eye’ of
the net, and since the net itself is infinite in dimension, the jewels are
infinite in number. There hang the jewels, glittering like stars…If we now
arbitrarily select one of these jewels for inspection and look closely at it,
we will discover that in its polished surface there are reflected all the
other jewels in the net, infinite in number. Not only that, but each of the
jewels reflected in this one jewel is also reflecting all the other jewels, so
that there is an infinite reflecting process occurring.”
This
is an analogy of the universe, with each jewel being an object in the universe,
anything from an atom to a cat to a planet. Now, composite objects are made of
many different jewels in the net, but the net can be seen as a fractal with
each object as either a single jewel or a collection of jewels: the same
results will apply. Each of these entities in the net is called a dharma (a Hindu term that has many
meanings, but in Hua-yen it means a specific entity: a fancy way to say a “thing”),
and so the universe is nothing but interrelated dharmas. One of the primary
purposes of Hua-yen is to discover just what dharmas are and how they are
related to each other, which is similar to the task of modern scientists who
search for the ultimate constituents of reality in quantum mechanics and
particle physics.
Indra’s
net demonstrates the concept of emptiness: there is no source that creates the
jewels, but all just reflect each other. Cook says, “Existence means that the object exists as a result of conditions; emptiness
refers to the fact that what exists in dependence on conditions has no ultimate
being in and of itself.” Nothing has a real essence: if it did, it would be
unable to change. Existence, then, only derives from interdependence, those
countless related dharmas forming Indra’s net, the “conditions” of its
existence. This is called interdependent
origination. It may sound like a contradiction, but as seen from the quote
above, existence just is emptiness.
Later on, Cook says, “What is called
emptiness from one point of view is called existence from the other.”
Indeed, the Buddhist concept of emptiness is not a “thing” or an absence of
something, but is rather the interdependent relationship among entities. And
since all things are defined by their relationships to all other things, they
are necessarily empty.
An
analogy used in Francis Cook’s book, which he quoted from Fa-tsang (Fa-tsang is
one of Hua-yen’s primary founders from the seventh century), is that of a barn.
Barns are made of rafters, shingles, nails, etc., and each part plays an
important role in the formation of the whole. Yet outside its place in the
barn, the concept of each part existing alone is meaningless: a rafter does not
become a rafter unless it exists within the context of the barn: otherwise it
is just a piece of wood. It becomes a
rafter when it is seen in relation to all the other parts of the barn. Likewise
with a shingle, a nail, and so on. Moreover, the barn will not exist if it were
not for the parts that comprise it. The whole derives its existence from its
parts, but so too do the parts derive their existence from the whole. Neither
has an independent existence. If you were to change the parts, you may still
make an object like a barn, but the point is that it will not be the same barn that you had before.
Thus,
all parts of the barn derive their essence from the fact that they are parts of
a whole, and the barn derives its existence from the relationships between its
parts. If there were no tiles and shingles, the rafter wouldn’t be a rafter, because it wouldn’t be part
of a barn, and likewise with every other part. Since a rafter is a condition
for the building, if there is no rafter, there will be no building, but at the
same time, if there was no building, it would not be a rafter. And the rafter totally causes the building, as Fa-tsang
says: “If [the rafter] does not wholly
create [the building], then when the one rafter is removed, the whole building
should remain. However, since the total building is not formed then you should
understand that the building is not formed by the partial power [of a condition
such as the rafter] but by its total power.” So any individual dharma can be seen as possessing total power in
creating the whole, a notion that certainly takes some thinking about, since it
is quite far removed to how we normally think of parts and the whole that they create.
But
Hua-yen goes further to say that each part is identical. The shingle and the rafter share the same power in creating
the barn, and moreover, they each have total
power in creating the barn: “the part
exerts total power in the formation of a particular whole.” How could this
be? Well, imagine that you intend to make that barn and have almost everything in
place except for one plank of wood to function as a rafter. When you put that wood
in, the barn is formed. Hence, the rafter can be seen as creating the barn, having complete power over its existence, as
well as the existence of all other parts that form the barn (since if there was
no barn, the shingles wouldn’t be shingles, etc.). Take away a rafter, and you
no longer have the barn.
Now
do the same thing with a nail: the last nail to form the barn has total power
in creating it and the other parts of the barn. Take it away, and it is no longer
the barn you began with. If you imagine performing this thought experiment with
all other parts of the barn, you can see that they each have total power in
creating the barn, and so without all these parts, you would not have the
whole. This is the identical essence
of every part: from the point of view of each being a cause, they each have
total power. At the same time, they are different because they are each results
of every other part when it is seen as a cause. It is just a shift in point of
view: each dharma can be seen as being a case or an effect, and neither view is
more correct than the other.
Of
course, you could think that making small changes to the barn or replacing, for
example, one rafter with another wouldn’t change the scheme of the barn. But it
isn’t the same barn anymore. Yes, it is a
barn, but not the one you had before. Though bear in mind that this makes more
sense with respect to the universe as a whole and the dharmas that comprise it.
Indeed,
the analogy of the barn can be applied to the entire universe of dharmas. The
same relationships that hold between the parts of a barn also holds between,
for example, the parts of a human being, the galaxy, or the universe as a
whole. Each dharma has no independent existence and is empty. What we see as
differences are only illusory differences of outer form, what Fa-tsang calls “quasi-existence,” because objects are actually
identical and empty. All dharmas are identical because they are empty of
independent existence. Each is also a cause of all the others, for, taking a
single dharma, it can be seen as creating all other dharmas, and if you shift
your point of view, the same is true for all other dharmas. If each dharma can create
all of reality, then all dharmas must be identical.
Yet
at the same time, they are also different because they have different functions
in the grand scheme of things. Think of the rafter and the nail in the barn
again: although each has no existence in and of itself, needing a host of
supporting conditions to define it, they each play a particular role in the
creation of the barn. As Cook says, “The
whole which is included in the part is already a whole which includes the part,
so that the interpenetration of dharma and dharma is repeated over and over,
infinitely.” These are the infinitely reflecting jewels in Indra’s net that
are both causes and effects: seen as causes, they are identical and contain the
power to create all other dharmas, but seen as effects, they are different and
interrelated with all the other causes that each have a different function in
the creation of the whole.
This
is all hard to grasp, and it’s no wonder there are so many books written about
this. Another analogy that Cook uses might make the concept of interdependent
origination clearer: the idea of a father and son. A father is only a father if
he has his son, but a son is only a son if he has his father. These two terms
come into existence simultaneously, and can be said to “create” each other.
From one point of view, the father creates the son, and in doing so, becomes a
father. But from another point of view, the son creates the father (not the human
being who is his father, but the fact
that he is a father), and in doing so, becomes a son.
Normally,
we think of a cause in terms of
time: an event x occurs at time 1, which causes an event y at time 2. But in
the net of Indra, since each object can be seen as either a cause or effect, it
doesn’t make sense to say that one comes before the other. Cause is rather an expression of the interdependent nature of the
universe. There are thus two notions of time
here: first is the regular “vertical” time that goes nice and orderly from
past, to present, to future, and then there is a “horizontal” time that expresses
the interrelationships between all dharmas that exist at any slice in vertical
time. This is the idea that everything is both a cause and effect of everything
else, something that only makes sense when looking at a single slice of
vertical time: it’s as if you transcend the three-dimensional reality to four
dimensions (with the fourth dimension being time) and are able to move in two
directions of time rather than one, just as you can move back and forth in any of
the three dimensions of space.
Although
the true nature of things as interdependent and essencelessness seems devoid
from the reality we live in, if are able to understand this, it helps us
realize that the things we think of as ‘bad’ that cause us anxiety and fear
such as death, sickness, and pain are just part of the whole and are really no
different to what we think of as ‘good.’ Indeed, “It is this very picking and choosing which brings back upon ourselves
anxiety, fear, and turmoil, for by dividing up the one unitary existence into
two parts, the good and the bad, we distort the reality which is the one
unitary existence…To see things in a totalistic perspective means to transcend
a small, pathetic subjectivity and see all the pernicious, vexing contraries
harmonized within the whole.” In essence, all dharmas are identical in being
empty. The Buddhist and Taoist goal of enlightenment is to return to
naturalness and transcend our perceptions of good and bad, existence and
non-existence, real and unreal. Everything has its place within the net of
Indra, and no matter how small any one dharma may appear, without it, the whole
would be different. Think of what the Doctor said: “In 900 years of time
and space, I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important.”
This
view can help bring more tranquility and acceptance into our lives, and is
remarkably similar to views held by Stoic philosophers. It’s not about giving
yourself up to “Fate,” but about not getting trodden down by it, because
although we find ourselves in this vast net of inter-causality, that doesn’t mean
that we are only controlled by countless other things, but that we too can control
them. It goes both ways, for everything is equally important. There isn’t a
single destiny that everything is heading toward, but the vast collection of
dharmas are evolving together, constantly shifting and recreating themselves.
And
lastly, the Buddhist principle of acting compassionately toward all beings follows
from the Hua-yen vision of the universe. If all things are interconnected and
essentially the same, there is no real distinction between you and others: not
just other people and living things, but everything
that exists. To help others, then, is to benefit the whole, which includes
yourself. The work of the bodhisattva is to help all beings who are all linked
in this shared destiny. To act merely out of “self-interest” is to be ignorant
of the fact that there are no distinct selves. And so, as Cook says, “To act compassionately is to act in
accordance with reality,” a view that naturally arises out of studying the
universe of Hua-yen Buddhism, the net of Indra of all the jewels of objects in
creation.
~~*~~
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