MYSTERIOUS MYSTICISM

Though mysticism may be associated with religion, it need not be.  The mystic often represents a type that the religious institution (e.g. church) does not and cannot produce and does not know what to do with if and when one does appear.  Still, mysticism is the raw material of all religion and is also the inspiration of much of philosophy, poetry, art, and music, a consciousness of a "beyond," of something which, though it is interwoven with it, is not the external world of material phenomena.

It is a consciousness of an "unseen" over and above the seen.  In the developed mystic this consciousness is present in an intense and highly specialized form.  Though he may not be able to describe it in words, though he may not be able to logically demonstrate its validity, to the mystic his experience is fully and absolutely valid and is surrounded with complete certainty.  He has been "there," he has "seen," he "knows."

Mystical experience, however, is not the sole domain of the mystic, according to some.  As Ram Dass points out, there are many planes of awareness, many levels of consciousness.  William James said, "Our normal waking consciousness is but one type of consciousness, while all about it, separated from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie other types of consciousness, and we spend our entire lives not knowing of their existence.  But apply the requisite stimulus and there they are in their completeness."

The word "mystic" has its origin in the Greek Mysteries, the Eleusinian Mysteries.  A mystic was one who was initiated into these mysteries, through which he gained an esoteric knowledge of divine things and was "reborn into eternity." His goal was to breakthrough the everyday world into that of eternity and timelessness.  This entailed a secret wisdom about which it was unlawful for him to speak.  The word "mystery" (mysterion) comes from the Greek word "muo," to shut or close the lips or eyes. 

Both Vedanta and Buddhism are rooted in mysticism.  Even the nontheistic Buddhism has, without calling it such, its mystical aspects, found for example in the Jnana meditation of Yoga and early Buddhism, and in satori in Zen.

THE TAOISM PART

The Indian scholar and teacher Bodhidharma is credited with founding the Ch'an school of Buddhism in China in the 6th century A.D.  This came at a time when Buddhism had already claimed an imperial convert, the Emperor Wu Ti of the Liang dynasty.

Buddhism was rapidly becoming accepted by the Chinese population as a simplified version of Taoism.  As it happened Buddhism and Taoism shared many philosophical similarities, making Chinese adjustment to Ch’an much easier.  And the more dogmatic ways in which Buddhism was practiced helped it to get the fast track on becoming the predominant religion in China.  The Ch'an sect was a blend of Buddhism and Taoism.  The word "ch'an" is the Chinese attempt at the Sanskrit word "dhyana," meaning meditation, as is the Japanese word "zen."

But now what exactly is this Taoism that Buddhism merged with?  Chinese thinkers wanted to account for the apparent harmony and order in nature.  They developed the concept of the Tao.  The harmony and orderliness of heaven and earth were, they said, the result of the cosmic energy of the Tao, which literally means "a way" or "a road."  Sometimes it denotes the "channel" of a river.  In general the Tao means "the-way-to-go," the "natural way."

The Tao is conceived to be eternal.  Taoists concluded that the way in which the universe runs must have existed before the universe itself did.  They believed that this way of nature's functioning is a way of perfection, a pre-established pattern into which all things ought to fall if they are to be in their proper place and do their proper work.

The Tao is emphatically a way of harmony, integration, and cooperation.  Its natural tendency is toward peace, prosperity, and health. This would quickly become evident were it not for perverse human beings who refuse to adjust themselves to it.  In fact, if the Tao were ever to be followed everywhere, heaven, humankind, and earth would form a single, harmonious unit, every part cooperating toward universal well-being.

Central to Taoism is "wu-wei."  This has been translated variously as "inaction, quietism, non-aggression," but it more accurately means non-interference.  It means not getting in the way of things.  The culprit is the human ego and its analytical mind which sees as its purpose the control and manipulation of the world, which is like creating a dam in a river that is flowing along naturally.  This is an important understanding in Ch'an.  The controlling self and mind are the trouble.

The two names most often associated with Taoism are Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu.  Lao-tzu, who may have been several people who used that name to write under, was the apparent author of the TAO TE CHING or TREATISE OF THE TAO AND ITS POWER.  In lines that were at times obscure and cryptic, he laid out his view of the universe, whereupon he completely vanished.

Chuang-tzu, who most certainly did exist solely as himself, went on to popularize Lao-tzu's teachings.  He produced thirty-three essays, most of which were by his own hand.  Among his views were that yin and yang, springing from the Tao, produce each other, influence each other, and destroy each other in a never ceasing process, reminiscent of Buddhism’s "mutually arising opposites."

Neither Lao-tzu nor Chuang-tzu could have foreseen the decline of Taoism over time.  It so happened that the people who had been attracted to the thoughtfulness of Taoism became discouraged by it, turning finally to magic and potions in what turned into Taoism the cult. 

Some found in the contemporary Confucianism a more direct and practical help, and adopted it.  Those drawn to the meditative aspect of Taoism found the same, and more, in the spreading varieties of Buddhism.

POINT OF DEPARTURE

We feel we are being lied to, are being betrayed.  But by whom?  By what?  At the same time, we feel ourselves a lie. When we open our mouths we do not know who is speaking.  We spend years in formal education, which we argue to ourselves is worth the effort.  It is stimulating, and entertaining even, but of what use is it in the end?  It leaves us with the real question, what is worthwhile doing?  What we really want is salvation.

“Seek out your own salvation with diligence,” the Buddha said. “Try it, see for yourself.”

The Buddha said, “You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of salvation than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere.”

When we are suffering, we are as much in need of our compassion as is any other being, and we are equally deserving of it.

In the end, only the individual can attain his own salvation.  The Buddha can merely teach that there is a Way.  It is the individual’s responsibility to follow it.  “Abide with oneself as an island, with oneself as a refuge.  Seek no external refuge.” 

Be assured that the Buddha's teachings "conduce to dispassion and not to passions, to detachment and not to bondage, to decrease of worldly gains and not to their increase, to frugality and not to covetousness, to content and not to discontent, to solitude and not to company, to energy and not to sluggishness, to delight in good and not to delight in evil.   Of such teachings you may with certainty affirm that this is the Norm, this is the discipline, this is the Master’s message."

PROPER BALANCE

Hindu philosophers had long taught that the way to salvation was as narrow as the edge of a razor.  The Buddha, however, developed a way that was more universal and readily achievable.  Yet, in his teaching he never strayed far from the Hindu tradition, his heritage, the reason Buddhism is seen as an offshoot of Hinduism.  There were people who suggested that the Buddha was out to start a new religion,  but that was never his intention.

The Buddha's way is based on his realization that the extremes of over-indulgence and of self-denial do not work.  A good analogy is a stringed instrument where if the strings are too loose, representing over-indulgence, the instrument does not play well.  Conversely, if the strings are too tight, as in self-denial, the instrument does not play well either.  It is the same with the wheel of a cart.  If it is too loose it will wobble and fall off, and if it is too tight it will not turn.  It is the lack of proper balance that the Buddha considered the source of human troubles.

The doctrine of the Four Noble Truths is the Buddha's remedy.  It is set up like a prescription that one would get from a physician.  First there is the initial diagnosis, which is, yes, there is a problem.  Next, the cause of the problem is stated.  Thirdly, the judgement is made that there is a cure.  And finally, the cure is set forth.  This structure and the Buddha’s subsequent Noble Eight-fold Path were so his followers could memorize them easily.  Today we have books and computers for ready reference, but not so in the past; information about most things was passed along by word of mouth.

Briefly then, the First Noble Truth says that there is suffering.  This suffering, the Buddha said, is caused by a grasping, a clinging to life, a wanting to do this, to have that, to be that.  The modern term for this, philosopher Alan Watts said, is hang-up, to be hung-up, obsessed with something.  This, however, can be overcome, the Buddha taught.  Yet simply saying that a person should just cease behaviors leading to his unhappiness the Buddha knew was not sufficient.  It would have left everyone without significant help.  Accordingly, he presented eight specific steps to aid the effort.

Right Viewpoint.  The first thing is to see one's problem for what it is, and then to take responsibility for it.  Typically the issue is ignorance, so called, that is identifying oneself with the ego, which is an illusion. The ego believes, through the social conditioning that created it, that certain things, such as possessions, will make one happy, when in fact they don't.

Right Aspiration.  Everyone aspires after something, but when they are centered around "I," "me," "mine," they result in unhappiness.  The Buddha believed that kindness and compassion toward others was more worthwhile, since it resulted in feelings of well-being in both the receiver and the giver.  These first two steps on the Path are for getting one's attitude changed for the better.  The next three steps deal with the types of conduct that stem from this right attitude.

Right Speech.  Gossip, slander, and abusive or idle talk is a waste of everyone's time, in the Buddha's view.  Controlled, considerate, and thoughtful speech has an outcome that is far more worth the effort, positive.

Right Behavior.  The Buddha did not describe fully the range of this step, even though his followers subsequently did so, singling out killing, stealing, and lying as behaviors to be avoided.  Rather than list all the things that one should not do, the Buddha instead encouraged people to do the right things.  For him, right behavior meant compassion.  He taught, for example, that "hatred does not cease by hatred at any time; hatred ceases by compassion."

Right Livelihood.  There are certain occupations that a person should not engage in, lest he damage himself spiritually.  Certain businesses involve injury to all forms of life, the Buddha explained. Slaughterhouse owners, drug dealers, and manufacturers of liquors, are good examples.  One should not be a soldier for the same reason.

Right Effort.  The sixth step moves beyond the level of conduct and refers to the staying speed, so called, the proper rate one should maintain while on the Eightfold Path, so as not to become discouraged.  Going at it too quickly or too slowly, depending upon the individual, is not good.  Trying to keep pace with someone else is not good.

Right Mindfulness.  The Buddha argued that it was the mind that led a person into most of his disharmonious troubles.  It is not a person's wanting something, a new pair of shoes, for instance, that is the problem.  Rather is it the person’s insistence on having the shoes, to the point that even when he obtains them, he is not satisfied.  He finds them too tight, too loose, or the wrong color.  Even when all these factors are just right, though, he is still miserable.  Now he wants more shoes, to see if he can get even better ones.

Right Contemplation.  Because people vary greatly in temperament, the Buddha suggested several dozen modes of training the mind for right concentration.  He had considerable appreciation for the prevailing Raja Yoga practices of his day, techniques that permitted a calming and focusing of the attention.  This attention might be simple meditation with no objective in mind, or it might be a serious delving into the depths of the mind, leading to Nirvana.

Finally, just as the Buddha did not speak of a soul or the Atman as in Hinduism, so he was reluctant to talk about Brahman or the Ground of Being.  Such matters, he said, could not be determined with any certainty, and, anyway, were beside the point.  Solving the problem of human suffering here and now was the point. 

AT MINIMUM

Beginning in 1939 and continuing until his death in 1963, novelist Aldous Huxley was associated with the Vedanta Society of Southern California, headed by Swami Prabhavananda. Along with writer Gerald Heard and novelist Christopher Isherwood, he was taught Vedic meditation and spiritual practices.  From 1941 through 1960 Huxley contributed 48 articles to the Societies’ periodical Vedanta and the West.  From 1951 through 1962 he served on their editorial board, which included Isherwood, Heard, and playwright John van Druten.

In his essay "The Minimum Working Hypothesis," Huxley states the fundamental beliefs of Vedanta.  He wrote that there is a Godhead, Ground, Brahman, Clear Light of the Void, which is the unmanifested principle of all manifestations, that the Ground is at once transcendent and immanent, and that it is possible for humans to know, and, from virtually to actually, to become identical with the divine Ground.

He stated that to achieve this unitive knowledge of the Godhead is the final end and purpose of human existence, that there is a Law or Dharma which must be obeyed, a Tao or Way which must be followed for humans to achieve this final objective.  And lastly, that the more there is of self, the less there is of the Godhead; and that the Tao is therefore a way of humility and love, and that the Dharma is a living law of mortification and self-transcending awareness. 

In THE PERENNIAL PHILOSOPHY, Huxley's book of the same period, he goes on to say that the Buddha, by contrast, declined to make any statement in regard to the ultimate divine Reality.  All the Buddha spoke of was Nirvana, his term for the experience that comes to the totally selfless and one-pointed seeker. 

FROM THE BHAGAVAD-GITA

In the view of Vedanta, a person’s karma determines into what life he will be born.  The Bhagavad-Gita provides a description of two types of individuals, one born to divine tendencies, the other to demonic tendencies.

"A man who is born with tendencies toward the divine is fearless and pure of heart.  He perseveres in that path to union with Brahman which the scriptures and his teacher have taught him.  He is charitable.  He can control his passions. He studies the scriptures regularly, and obeys their directions.  He practices spiritual disciplines.

“He is straightforward, truthful, and of an even temper.  He harms no one.  He renounces the things of this world.  He has a tranquil and an unmalicious tongue. He is compassionate toward all.  He is not greedy.  He is gentle and modest.  He abstains from useless activity.  He has faith in the strength of his higher nature.  He can forgive and endure.  He is clean in thought and act.  He is free from hatred and from pride.  Such qualities are his birthright.

“When a man is born with demonic tendencies, his birthright is hypocrisy, arrogance, conceit, anger, cruelty and ignorance.  Men of demonic nature know neither what they ought to do, nor what they should refrain from doing.  There is no truth in them, or purity, or right conduct.  They maintain that the scriptures are a lie, and that the universe is not based on moral law, but is godless, conceived in lust and created in copulation, without any other cause.  Because they believe this in the darkness of their little minds, these degraded creatures do horrible deeds, attempting to destroy the world.

“They are enemies of mankind.  Their lust can never be appeased.  They are arrogant and vain, and drunk with pride.   They run blindly after what is evil.  The ends they work for are unclean.  They are sure that life has only one purpose: gratification of the senses.  And so they are plagued by innumerable cares, from which death alone can release them. Anxiety binds them with a thousand chains, delivering them over to lust and wrath.  They are ceaselessly busy piling up dishonest gains to satisfy their cravings."

We are not one or the other of these, Buddhists say by contrast, but are both.  Karma can create both in one person.  There is not a saint who was not at first a sinner.  Good cannot be known without evil, or at least the possibility of evil.  Good and evil arise mutually.  The saint and the sinner in a person arise mutually and exist for each other in a defining balance, until in the end the saint sheds what has become the dead skin of the sinner and steps free once and for all.

INTERDEPENDENCE

Ji-ji muge in Buddhism refers to the interdependence, the mutual unimpeded, interpenetration of all things and events.  It is likened to a spider’s web, as Alan Watts describes: "Imagine a multidimensional spider's web in the early morning covered with dew drops. And every dew drop contains the reflection of all the other dew drops. And, in each reflected dew drop, the reflections of all the other dew drops in that reflection. And so on ad infinitum. This is the Buddhist image of the universe."  A net of jewels is another description of it, called Indra's net. Another term for it is dharma datu.

Speaking for Vedanta, Christopher Isherwood explains how human egotism prevents us from seeing this interdependence. "Every time you desire, or fear, or hate; every time you boast or indulge your vanity; every time you struggle to get something for yourself, you are really asserting: I am a separate, unique individual. I stand apart from everything else in this universe.  But you don't, you know.  The scientist will agree with me that you don't.  Every living creature and every object are interrelated, biologically, psychologically, physically, politically, economically. They are all of a piece." This is to say nothing of the spiritual connection, in that everyone and everything is Brahman.

Tibetan Buddhist monk Matthieu Picard says of interdependence, "The world of appearances is created by the coming together of an in infinite number of ever-changing causes and conditions. Like a rainbow that forms when the sun shines across a curtain of rain and then vanishes when any factor contributing to its formation disappears, phenomena exist in an essentially interdependent mode and have no autonomous and enduring existence. Everything is relation; nothing exists in and of itself, immune to the forces of cause and effect."

With this comes the Buddhist principle of Dependent Origination, cause and effect.  If this is, that comes to be; from the arising of this, that arises; if this is not, that does not come to be; from the stopping of this, that stops. There is a consequence to our actions, remembering that even inaction is action.  This makes all the more imperative what is called mindfulness in Buddhism. We must pay attention to our behavior.  What we do and do not do affects what everything else in the universe does and does not do, whether we are aware of it at the time, or ever aware of it.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

The dramatis personae is the list of characters in a play. The Latin word personae is from "per" meaning "through" and "sonare" meaning "to sound," i.e. that through which sound is produced. Early Greek and Roman actors wore masks representing various characters.  These masks contained a built-in megaphone so the audience could hear what the actors were saying.  From personae is derived the modern words person and persona.  Persona has now come to mean the social self, experienced as a kind of mask, not the true self.

But the true self so-called, is a mask too.  It is a conditioned phenomenon based upon one's memory of the past, his anticipation of the future, and his present consciousness.  Thinking and communicating using symbols is also part of it.  There is nothing reliable about this true self since it is time-bound and changing constantly.

Dramatis personae has another meaning in Vedanta.  There are, to begin with, three models of the universe.  The view of western religions is that the universe is an artifact, something that is made, like a pot.  In this model, man, for instance, is fashioned from a ball of clay, into which the divine blows the breath of life.

In China, there is the organic model where the universe is seen as a living organism.  What affects one part of it affects the whole of it.  In India, the universe is conceived as a drama which is being played out by Brahman.  Brahman plays all the parts and all the elements, and is so convincing at it that even it forgets that it is doing so.  Eventually, though, Brahman awakens, whereupon the universe ends and a new cycle, a new drama, begins, with an all new dramatis personae.

SO GO ALL OF US

"People suffer at every moment and throughout the world," Tibetan Buddhist Matthieu Ricard explains. "Some die when they've just been born; some when they've just given birth. Every second people are murdered, tortured, beaten, maimed, separated from their loved ones. Others are abandoned, betrayed, expelled, rejected. Some are killed out of hatred, greed, ignorance, ambition, pride, or envy.

Mothers lose their children, children lose their parents. The ill pass in never-ending procession through hospitals. Some suffer with no hope of being treated; others are treated with no hope of being cured. The dying endure their pain, and the survivors their mourning. Some die of hunger, cold, exhaustion; others are charred by fire, crushed by rock, or swept away by the waters.

"This is true not only for human beings. Animals devour each other in the forests, the savannahs, the oceans, and the skies. At any given moment tens of thousands of them are being killed by humans, torn to pieces and canned. Others suffer endless torments at the hands of their owners, bearing heavy burdens, in chains their entire lives; still others are hunted, fished, trapped between teeth of steel, strangled in snares, smothered under nets, tortured for their flesh, their musk, their ivory, their bones, their fur, their skin, thrown into boiling water or flayed alive.

"There is an interconnectedness spiritually, among all living things. As a human being it is my responsibility to realize this and to know that as all other living things go, so go I."

Picard said that it was his responsibility to realize this, when, in fact, it is the responsibility of all of us to realize it. Compassion is not limited to monks.

WHY DOES GOD PERMIT EVIL?

Evil is the opposite of good and occurs in the same way that all mutually arising opposites occur, according to Buddhism. You cannot have one without the other. They are two sides of the same coin. You cannot have solid without space, light without dark, or an inside without an outside. Nothing can be known without its opposite. In this way, good cannot be known without the possibility at least of evil. As St. Thomas Aquinas said, "Good derives it's virtue from evil."

Philosopher Alan Watts adds, "In our present state of consciousness we are standing, as it were, with our eyes right against the painting, so that only one small, meaningless patch of color can be seen at a time. But in our eternal state we stand with the whole canvas in view. From this standpoint evil is not evil as we now know it; it is shadow harmonizing with light."

In the words of Buddhist Matthieu Picard, "evil is not a demonic power external to ourselves, and good is not an absolute principle independent of us. Everything occurs in our minds. Love and compassion are reflections of the true nature of all living beings--what we have called basic goodness. Evil is a deviation from this basic goodness which can be remedied."

Vedanta has a different view of it completely. The question "why does God permit evil?" is, to a Vedantist, as meaningless as "why does God permit good?" Brahman is neither kind nor cruel. Brahman does not intervene in the world's affairs. The extent to which one experiences evil, or for that matter good, is the result of karma operating in his life, karma being the effect of one's deeds in life. Meritorious deeds are those which move one closer to union with the divine, the ultimate purpose of human existence, while vile deeds are those which move one away.

ATMAN AND ANATMAN

In contrast to the Atman of Vedanta, there is the Buddhist Anatman.  The former refers to the spiritual self or soul that is the same as Brahman, the Godhead.  Buddhism disputes this Atman by asserting that there is no self or soul that exists apart from everything else in the world, and that certainly there is nothing that transmigrates or is reborn into a new life after death.

Indeed, the Vedantic and Buddhist views of rebirth illustrate fully the difference between the Atman and Anatman doctines.  In Vedanta, the Atman is the same stuff as Brahman, pure being, hence does not die when the individual dies.  Rather, it carries over into a new existence, sometimes lingering in a way station in other realms before returning.  Unlike Western religions, it does not remain in a permanent eternal heaven, or hell.

Buddhism says that there is no such entity (an-atman, no self) that moves on, stating at the same time, however, that rebirth does take place.  What is reborn, though, is a character structure consisting of impressions, ideas, and feelings that pass along to the new life.  The process is likened to the flame of a candle that is transferred to another candle.  The flame, this way, is the same flame yet different.

The real purpose of the doctrine of Anatman in Buddhism is to keep a person from clinging to, from becoming attached to, from being distracted by, the notion that something else, a soul, exists in him that lives on.  To become so sidetracked is to place one’s suffering, and the cause of it, in a secondary position, to where it becomes an excuse for inaction.

The strategy in Buddhism is for us to jettison all concepts, preconceived notions, and theories concerning a soul, the Atman, so that we can focus on alleviating our real suffering here and now, what our highest priority should be.

FOLLY OF WANTING

Why are we unhappy? It is because we are filled with wanting, with desire, to the point that eventually the desire becomes a thirst that cannot be satisfied, even when we achieve what we desire.  So how can we be happy?  By ceasing to desire.

Just as a fire dies down when no fuel is added to it, so our unhappiness will end when the fuel of desire is removed.  We must not strive, grasp, cling, clutch, wanting to do this or to be that, for even when we attain what we want, it is not enough.  And the more we have the more we want.

Attaining what we want is suffering just as much as not attaining it is, with suffering defined as chronic frustration. What is gained by striving but wealth, power, and prestige, what society has taught us are the desirable things in this life.  But Krishnamurti said, “Think it through.  Do you really want what you think you want?”  Beware of what you want, you might get it.  Hell is getting what you want, the old adages go.

The reality of wealth, power, and prestige is that they are transient and therefore will end soon enough in suffering.  The aim of Buddhism is to eliminate suffering.  The saying “less is more” is correct.  Have nothing and want nothing, taking, consequently, the greatest pleasure in the smallest things and being happy.

“He who knows he has enough is rich,” the Taoist Lao Tsu stated it.

SPEAKING ABOUT SPEAKING ABOUT IT

He who says he knows the Tao does not know it.  He who knows the Tao does not say so.  There is a human experience that defies communication, where attempting to speak about it is taboo or at the very least is discouraged.  This is because it ends in mumbo-jumbo.  Talking about it is successful only when it is done obliquely.  For instance, it cannot be said what the Tao is, only what it is like.  The Tao is, for instance, like gravity.

Vedantists have the same difficulty when it comes to Brahman, which they term the ground of all being. But the ground of all being is insufficient, as it underestimates the immensity of Brahman.  Vedantists, ultimately, sum up the Brahman with the phrase "neti, neti," not this, not that, beyond description.

Buddhists, by contrast, are spared this.  They have no place for the supernatural, as argued by the Buddha in his early sermon On the Nonexistence of the Soul.  Agnostics, if not atheists, is how Buddhists are viewed generally, because their concern is human suffering here and now, and how it can be eliminated, rather than the existence of anything beyond that.

Zen Buddhism, though, is a different kettle of fish.  A Zen master will insist that there is not even a Way, a teaching, that, in fact, he has nothing to teach.  What follows then is a tug of war between the student and the master, the former still seeking Truth, the latter still shrugging that there is no Truth, until finally the intellect and will of the student collapses.  This leaves only consciousness, which, like the Tao and Brahman, cannot be communicated either.

Yet there is a larger issue here: the inadequacy of language.  Words are symbols which stand for something other than themselves.  What we want to communicate, consequently, is once removed from our means of doing so.  Why do we even try then, when the odds of miscommunication are so great?  As social creatures we cannot avoid it, and on a day-to-day basis we seem to get by all right.  This is to say, our everyday language is close enough; it works well enough.

On deeper matters, however, the Taoist indirect approach is the best, arguably.  Poetry, for example, is for expressing what cannot otherwise be expressed, hence Taoist poets such as Li Bai.  Images in paintings, sculptures, and photographs accomplish much the same, a speaking about it without speaking about it.

COMMON DENOMINATOR

Life is not all suffering, but largely it is.  According to Buddhist psychology, every moment of life when happiness and inner peace are absent in us is a moment of suffering.  When we are rushing, impatient, irritated, frustrated, anxious, angry, fearful, bored, sad, or jealous, when we are filled with desire for something we want that we do not have, or feel aversion for something we do have that we do not want, we are suffering.  When we are reliving a painful experience from our past or imagining a future one, we are suffering.

Nothing on this planet is free of it.  Even long-time Buddhists who endeavor to not suffer still do so, as a person cannot eliminate all of his sources of suffering.

To ease our pain we seek out what pleasures we can find, food, sex, alcohol, adventure.  The trouble is, we adapt to them, to where we need more and more of them to get the same effect.  The same effect, however, is not the same effect, we discover.  So, we suffer some more.

The Buddha was well aware of this common denominator, his solution The Noble Eightfold Path.

IT WILL PASS

You can never set foot in the same river twice.  It is not the same river the second time.  Existence is changing, ever changing.  Since all is transient this way, all is unreliable. This is called "annica" in Buddhism, the First Dharma Seal. When a prince asked his jeweler to create something for him that would carry him through the good times as well as the bad, the jeweler made him a ring inscribed with the words "It will pass."

This impermanence results in frustration, hence suffering.  Life is a moving target, which is moving every which way and at every possible speed.  Meanwhile the well-intentioned shooter, the individual in the world, is also moving every which way and at every possible speed, but not always in the same direction or at same speed as the target.  Everyone and everything is in this state of hit-and-miss. 

Buddhism is not the only place where this observation is found.  In western philosophy, Heraclitus (c.a. 535-475 B.C.) spoke of "flux."  Nothing possesses the permanency of "being," he said.  All is in a state of “becoming,” of becoming something else.  Nothing is permanent except change, he said.  In the same way, the person reading this posting is not the same person who will finish it.  Thomas Merton, the 20th century American Catholic writer, when speaking of his early autobiography THE SEVEN STOREY MOUNTAIN, said that it was somebody else who wrote it, a different Thomas Merton.  "Mindfulness" in Buddhism is being aware this transience.