When consciousness-based cognition engages with the external world, it inevitably develops attachments to self and phenomena, much like brain-based cognition. This occurs because, while we understand it's the mind rather than the brain perceiving the external world, each individual's mind operates differently. As a result, my perceptions and interpretations of the world around me will inherently differ from those of others.
Consider how people might perceive me, a person of substantial girth. Those who are fond of me might say, "He's pleasantly plump, just right." On the other hand, those who dislike me might exclaim, "Look at that fat pig!" These contrasting views stem from different emotional perspectives and personal biases.
Moreover, the angle from which someone views me can significantly alter their perception. Some might even argue that one side of my face appears more handsome than the other!
When our individual consciousness engages with the external world, it naturally develops attachments to self and phenomena. This occurs because our alayavijnana, or storehouse consciousness, inherently distinguishes between individuals, creating a sense of separate self.
However, the outcome is quite different if we shift our approach. By letting go of our usual brain-based thinking and sensory perceptions, and instead turning our awareness inward, we can achieve a form of self-recognition that transcends these attachments.
Our spiritual practice follows a three-step process: listening, contemplating, and meditating. This journey gradually shifts our awareness from the external world to our inner landscape.
We begin by engaging our senses - reading texts with our eyes and listening to teachings with our ears. Our brain then processes this information, analyzing what we've seen and heard. As we progress, we start to turn our attention inward, slowly letting go of these external concepts and experiences. This inward turn leads us to explore the very source of our thoughts and sensations - the mind itself, the active creator of our entire sensory and cognitive experience.
When consciousness turns inward to recognize itself, we gradually abandon brain-based and sensory cognition. Don't underestimate how difficult it is to "abandon brain and sensory cognition." It's easier said than done. Our minds are always busy analyzing everything around us, leading to scattered thoughts. Therefore, in Dzogchen, the first distinction is to distinguish between mental consciousness and lucid awareness.
Mental consciousness is part of brain-based cognition. When conscious thought becomes very subtle, if some feelings arise at this point, one might mistakenly believe they’ve attained enlightenment. This is a common pitfall for many practitioners. There’s also a deeper level of sensory cognition, which isn’t just the disappearance of bodily tactile consciousness (a coarser feeling). Although both are forms of sensory cognition, the former, being a deeper feeling, might be mistaken for luminous emptiness or enlightenment.
For example, in the state of alayavijnana, sensory perception ceases, but this doesn't equate to enlightenment. While it's much more subtle than sensory cognition, it's still a mental state that requires further discernment. Practitioners must distinguish between alayavijnana and true reality (dharmata). Even at the level of coarse sensory perception, misleading experiences can occur. Sometimes, when the body seems to disappear and everything feels empty, it might be mistaken for enlightenment. However, this is often just a mental projection, a function of the alayavijnana, which must be gradually transcended.
Please remember: "Abandoning brain and sensory cognition" is a profound statement! When you directly realize the nature of Emptiness through your own mind, you'll no longer believe that brain death marks the end of life. Instead, you'll develop a strong conviction in the cycles of rebirth and the potential for liberation.
This realization occurs when we let go of all attachments, allowing the mind to reveal its true nature. We come to understand that our perceiving consciousness, while fundamentally empty, possesses the capacities for awareness, cognition, and manifestation. With this insight, we no longer equate brain death with the cessation of life.
You'll come to see brain death as a transition rather than an endpoint. The possibility emerges of consciousness continuing through a new brain, perhaps even a more advanced one. Moreover, you'll gain a deep understanding of the cycles of death and rebirth, recognizing that the cessation of one brain's function simply marks the beginning of the next phase in an ongoing journey.
We believe that the fundamental basis of physical changes lies in the shifting causes and conditions of the mind. This leads us to trust in the karmic principle of causality as it relates to the mind.
What does this mean? When we reach this stage of understanding, having grasped the emptiness of mind, we realize that all external phenomena are simply manifestations of the mind. The mountains, rivers, and even the changing seasons - while appearing as physical changes - are understood as the mind's play, reflecting only the causality within the mind itself. At this point, we fully embrace the Buddha's teachings, engaging in the development of bodhicitta and spiritual practice with genuine sincerity and vigor.
Enlightened beings have an absolute belief in causality. Before enlightenment, we often force ourselves to believe in it, primarily out of fear of consequences. Many Buddhists, when tempted to misbehave, might think, "I'll deal with the consequences later." However, upon reaching true enlightenment, such calculations disappear. There's a Buddhist saying: "Bodhisattvas fear causes; ordinary beings fear effects." The enlightened understand the profound impact of mental actions and their far-reaching consequences.
Excerpted from: Cognition and Expression Part Three
