Anatta: Get Free From Your Self
One of the most fascinating and incomprehensible doctrines of Buddhism is ‘Anatta’, the concept of Non-Self. The absence of a ‘self’ is absolutely counterintuitive to most people I know. And it is easy to understand why.
All our language is built around the notions of “I”, “myself” and “mine”. If one knows something for certain, it is that our space is three-dimensional; there is time connecting cause and effect, and there is an I inhabiting that space-time.
All of our experiences from early childhood revolve around something that I am doing or deciding, and what is happening to me. And how other people are treating me and what they are thinking about me.
And yet, against the cumulative evidence of those experiences, someone is here telling me there is no I and no me? Really? How crazy is that?
Are you kidding me?
But hold on. Cutting through this first wave of incredulity might be worthwhile, because the consequences of grasping Anatta can be incredibly profound.
As Buddha said,
“There is nothing so blameworthy as the wrong view [of self]. Wrong view is the most blameworthy of all things. There is no single factor so responsible for the suffering of living beings as [this] wrong view”.
In this article, I will try to help you understand the idea of Non-Self. Don’t worry, though, if it doesn’t come too easily at first. Some meditation teachers say that attachment to self, or “conceit”, is the most powerful hindrance to rid ourselves of, and is frequently the last “shackle” that one loses before becoming fully enlightened.
A shackle perhaps worth losing though, if we trust the word of Buddha:
“Suppose, monks, a dog tied up on a leash, was bound to a strong post or pillar: it would just keep on running and revolving around that same post or pillar. So too, the uninstructed worldling regards the body as self … feeling as self … perception as self … volitional formations as self … consciousness as self … He just keeps running and revolving around [self]. As he keeps on running and revolving, he is not freed from [self]. He is not freed from sorrow, lamentation, pain, dejection, and despair; not freed from suffering.”
Bear with me. Together we will try to tear that pillar out of the ground and let the dog free.
The Neuroscience Effect
If one looks around for people who understand the concept of Non-Self, one can find them in unexpected places — such as research institutes and scientific labs. Many brain scientists know that a conscious self might be no more than a convenient illusion. And there exists a swarm of cleverly designed experiments “confirming” this view¹.
The first interesting evidence comes from the split brain experiments. Communication between the two hemispheres of the brain is made possible by the bundles of axons known as the corpus callosum. In patients with severed corpus callosum, left and right parts of the brain cannot communicate. From Roger Sperry’s experiments we know that in most patients the left hemisphere could recognise and analyse speech, while the right hemisphere could not.
Now, if the right hemisphere is instructed to do things that the left hemisphere is unaware of (through the left eye’s visual field), the left part of the brain will nonetheless construct a contrived explanation for the action. E.g. if, through the left eye, the split-brain patient is instructed to get up, she gets up. When asked why she got up, her left brain, unaware of the instruction, comes up with something like “I decided to take a cup of tea” or “I just wanted to stretch”.
Do you see the point? No decision was made and no “I” was involved in the situation above. Yet, “I” was magically summoned by what the brain scientists call “the left brain interpreter”, which is responsible for reconciling the past with the present and consequently providing a sense of coherence to the mind.
So no need to worry! Whatever happens to you, your left brain will just come up with a plausible explanation, in which your self will be calling the shots.
In 2007, a set of clever experiments conducted by the John-Dylan Haynes’s team demonstrated that our brain makes up its mind up to ten seconds before we realise it.
By analysing their brain activity while his subjects were making a decision, the researchers could predict what choice people would make before they themselves were even aware of having made a decision. Isn’t that incredible?
So do I really make my decisions or are the decisions being made and then attributed to me? Maybe the conscious self doesn’t really add anything to the process?
And if self is not really deciding anything, how do we define it and what is it responsible for?
It looks like our sense of self comes from the simple misconception that our logical mind is in control, when it actually is not.
One could argue that if conscious I is an illusion, then the real I must reside in the subconscious brain. Right?
Wrong. When we talk about “I”, we assume it must be something permanent and independent, something not subject to instantaneous changes. After all, that is how we experience it. However, the continuity and permanence of “I” are no more than cognitive illusions as well. If we closely observe someone near us, we would struggle to get rid of the idea that he or she has multiple personalities, and her or his behaviour is different at times; contingent on most recent events and external triggers.
Experiments conducted on this theory confirm this view. Long story short, our mind is more like the mind of Billy Milligan from a Daniel Keyes book. We have many subconscious “I’s” that claim the throne in turn, and we mostly don’t notice all the switching. Indeed, some researchers represent our brains as systems of modules constantly competing for conscious attention, using the strength of the feelings in their battle.
So, if self is fluid and subject to change, then can we claim to have one? Are we ready to accept the notion of self that is multiple, impermanent, fleeting and interdependent with the external world?
The nice thing about this investigation is that we do not need an EMR scanner to recognise a simple truth: That we do not control our thoughts and that “thoughts think themselves”. For, in doing so, it is enough to get into an “ardent, clearly knowing and mindful²” state and then calmly observe whatever arises in the mind without being caught by it. If we do this for some time, we would realise that we are not in charge of our thoughts, feelings, perceptions, volitional formations or even consciousness.
Indeed, in their contemplative tradition, Buddhists regard thoughts as just another sensory input — like sight, hearing or touch.
If we acknowledge that view, there would remain just one small step to accepting what Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche tells us about how we can relinquish power from our thoughts:
“When a rainbow appears we see many beautiful colors — yet a rainbow is not something we can clothe ourselves with, or wear as an ornament; it simply appears through the conjunction of various conditions. Thoughts arise in the mind in just the same way. They have no tangible reality or intrinsic existence at all. There is therefore no logical reason why thoughts should have so much power over us, nor any reason why we should be enslaved by them.”
Life as a movie
Suppose you are watching a movie focused on a protagonist and filmed from a first-person perspective. You are not in control of what is shown to you. Suppose technology has already progressed quite far, and you can experience all the protagonist’s sensory inputs — like touch, taste or balance.
You can also experience the protagonist’s thoughts and basic feelings: “I like this”, “I dislike that” or “I do not care about this”. But those thoughts or feelings are not controlled by you, they are just “projected” onto you.
At some point, you would naturally forget who you are and identify yourself with the protagonist. You would become fully immersed in her drama. You would think you are directing the movie, when in reality, the movie is directing you.
Then you would encounter what Buddha called “a second dart”. This is when, on top of your basic feelings (pleasant, unpleasant, neutral), you start to experience reactions to them.
When it is pleasant, you start to desire it, cling to it, get attached to it, think about “what can I do to keep it?” When it is unpleasant, you avoid it, fear it, hate it. When it is neutral, you ignore it, stop noticing it, become ignorant to it. At which point a huge chunk of your sensory input disappears and your movie collapses into a narrow window focused on your most powerful aversions and desires.
“When an untaught worldling is touched by a painful feeling, he worries and grieves, he laments, beats his breast, weeps and is distraught. He thus experiences two kinds of feelings, a bodily and a mental feeling. It is as if a man were pierced by a dart and, following the first piercing, he is hit by a second dart.” [Gautama Buddha]
All these secondary reactions require an agent to be attributed to. So you construct a self, which is a map of your reactions to the world, and also a model of how the world is expected to work and what is present and absent in it.
Now you become very attached to the movie. Because it is not a movie anymore, it is You. It will be all about You. You will start to dread and loathe the impermanent nature of the movie. You will be afraid to lose what you are clinging to. And you will be terrified that something horrible could happen to you.
And in your heart of hearts, you will know that there is a death looming somewhere in the future.
In short, you will suffer.
Sometimes it will be painful. For example, you could need to go to the dentist…
But let us ask ourselves a hypothetical, yet intriguing question: If we still remember that we are simply watching the movie, would we feel the same amount of pain?
Well, pain is objective; it is our sensory input. But pain is only a “first dart”. The second dart — our mental reaction to the pain — is optional. And this second dart — anticipation, fear, anger, etc — constitutes the largest part of what we typically call “pain”:
“But in the case of a well-taught noble disciple, O monks, when he is touched by a painful feeling, he will not worry nor grieve and lament, he will not beat his breast and weep, nor will he be distraught. It is one kind of feeling he experiences, a bodily one, but not a mental feeling.” [Gautama Buddha]
A few years ago, I read about a Buddhist monk who asked his doctors not to apply anaesthetics when he underwent major surgery. He wanted to observe a painful state, in the same way we might observe clouds in the sky.
Pain was not happening to him. It was a painful feeling, happening to no one. An interesting experience, perhaps, though one that not many would be willing to undertake!
“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” [An old Buddhist saying]
Can we really detach to such an extent? Can we remember that we are just watching the movie?
And how would we even know or remember? What would the process of “awakening” look like?
Logically, we could simply reverse what has happened to us. We need to remove the second dart, so that desirable things do not provoke the mind, and toward undesired things one feels no aversion. And when attachment, aversion and ignorance are fully gone, the self can deconstruct because it will lose its raison d’être.
As Buddha said,
“Monks, whatever is not yours, abandon it.”
Unity, Equanimity and Flow
Remember a time when you were absolutely happy? Like when you did a sport or activity and were “in the zone”? Or maybe you were immersed in playing a musical instrument, and time seemed to stop existing?
Or perhaps you participated in a fascinating conversation, danced freely, or looked around from the top of the mountain in awe? Or maybe you skydived, paraglided or skied from a steep slope and experienced pure suspension and bliss?
All these experiences have one thing in common. There was no you in them. Both you and the world around you became one. Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls this “Flow”.
Now imagine that you live in this state all the time. How would it feel?
In fact, doing fully immersive activity is not the only way to catch a glimpse of the Unity state. Unity also arises from the inner peace and laser-sharp concentrated observation of the mind.
Buddha described this state as “abundant, exalted, immeasurable, without hostility, and without ill-will.” In the Pali language, this state is called Upekkha, which is translated into English as Equanimity — the ability to see without being caught by what one sees.
Upekkha is “seeing with understanding”. When we see the world in this way, we do not react to it (remember the second dart?) but respond with wisdom and love. And yet, we are not detached from the world, not even just neutral to it; we are at one with the world, emanating joyful radiance and warmth of being.
Reading on the topic of unity, one finds rather incredible accounts. One of which I present below, narrated by the transpersonal psychologist Stanislav Grof. I’ll leave it to you to calibrate the level of confidence you can ascribe to it.
“The crowd cheered, impressed by the degree of control the sword master commanded over his formidable weapon. Kwan Ja Nim calmed the group’s enthusiasm: “Just a warm-up … don’t get excited… wait!” Now the smaller student… put the third watermelon on a napkin on the Polish guy’s belly. In the meantime, Kwan Ja Nim walked by the row of people lining the oval lawn, carrying a bag made of black velvet and letting everybody see it and touch it. There was absolutely no doubt that the thick double layer of black velvet effectively blocked any attempt to see through it. Kwan Ja Nim then walked about fifteen feet from the spot where his Polish disciple lay on the grass, put the black velvet bag over his own head, and tightened its open end around his neck. He then assumed a formal warrior posture, grasping his sword in his right hand and holding it erect in a vertical position.
He stood like this for several minutes motionless and in absolute silence. People in the circle around him watched him intently, barely breathing. Suddenly, at exactly the same time, all the Esalen dogs started to howl. Kwan Ja Nim let out an ungodly warrior scream that merged with the wailing canine choir into an alarming cacophony. Holding the sword in his right hand close to his body, he used his left hand as a pivot and cartwheeled toward his Polish student… With a powerful swing, he then chopped apart the third watermelon, lying on the belly of his trusting student.
The watermelon fell apart, the two halves landing on each side of the student's body. The napkin showed just a slight, barely noticeable indentation. The crowd went crazy and cheered. We had all seen earlier what a formidable weapon Kwan Ja Nim’s sword was and what it could do. A small error, a minuscule deviation during the fifteen-foot trajectory that Kwan Ja Nim negotiated without any visual control, could have resulted in fatal injury…
Kwan Ja Nim took off his hood and offered to answer any questions people had. Everybody wanted to know how he could have achieved what he did… Kwan Ja Nim responded with a healthy belly laugh… “You just meditate and wait, until all is one — the sword master, the sword, the melon, and the disciple — and then, there is no problem.”
Inconceivable, isn’t it?
Getting into this state of unity is not an easy task for sure. But, as Gautama Buddha explained:
“Better it is to live one day seeing the rise and fall of things than to live a hundred years without ever seeing the rise and fall of things.”
Do we really see? Have we ever lived?
When you are free from the self, what do you become?
Ram Dass, a former Harvard professor who became an American spiritual teacher, described his enlightened guru, Maharajji, in the following terms:
“A being residing in the Brahman is qualitatively an entirely different entity from everybody else because there is literally nobody there. There’s nobody home! That’s one of the awesome and exasperating qualities, when you’re around a being like that.
Take my guru, for example: from November 1967, when I first met him, right up until this very moment, in all the years I have hung out with him, thought about him, studied him, reflected about him, analyzed him — I have never been able to find anybody there! I keep projecting onto him, because there was, of course, a flesh-and-blood body there. And it walked and it talked, and it smiled and it laughed and it did all its stuff. But when I go toward that guru, when I look into those eyes or I reside in that heart, when I quiet down and meditate on what lies behind that form, it’s like I’m entering into nothing other than vast emptiness and vast fullness at the same time. I am entering into the state of Brahman⁴, and that is the state where a being like Maharajji makes home.”
When you are empty of self, you gain the entire universe. You become awakened to everything.
Let me finish this article with a famous and enlightening folklore story about Gautama Buddha.
When the Buddha started to wander around India shortly after his enlightenment, he encountered several men who were struck by the extraordinary radiance and peacefulness of his presence. They asked him,
“My friend, what are you? Are you a celestial being or a God?”
“No,” said the Buddha.
“Well, then, are you some sort of magician or wizard?”
“No.” Buddha replied.
“Are you a man?”
“No.”
“Well, my friend, what are you then?”
“I am awake.”
Disclaimer. During his entire life, Gautama Buddha did not advance a single doctrine that was not directly related to the alleviation of suffering. He never speculated on pure philosophical or metaphysical questions and, when asked about them, remained silent. His reasons were straightforward — he did not want people trapped into yet another concept, doctrine or religion. He did not stop to repeat that his teachings should be used only as a raft to cross to the other shore, and once the river was crossed, it would be inappropriate to carry the raft further.
Likewise, please do not take anything from my article as the true representation of reality. If you find some idea useful, take it, do some necessary work with it, and then leave it behind. “The highest dharma⁵ is to reject all dharmas.” [H. W. L. Poonja] However, one cannot do that in one go. It is a gradual and spiralling process.
Footnotes
[1] Strictly speaking, from Sir Karl Popper, the philosopher of science, we know that theory can never be proved or confirmed, but could only be refuted or falsified… but that’s another topic for another day.
[2] “In regard to the mind, he[monk] abides, contemplating the mind, ardent, clearly knowing, and mindful, free from desires and discontent in regard to the world.” [Gautama Buddha]
[3] “In Sanskrit, Brahman connotes the highest Universal Principle, the Ultimate Reality in the universe. In major schools of Hindu philosophy, it is the material, efficient, formal and final cause of all that exists. It is the pervasive, infinite, eternal truth and bliss which does not change, yet is the cause of all changes.” [From Wikipedia]. I must add though that the “state of Brahman” is not a Buddhist concept: “if a disciple still clings to the arbitrary illusions of form or phenomena such as an ego, a personality, a self, a separate person, or a universal self existing eternally, then that person is not an authentic disciple.”[Diamond Sutra]
[4] “Dharma” in this context is a relative knowledge: a concept, an order of things, a custom of people or a model of reality.
Acknowledgements. I am grateful to Rebecca Coxon, documentary filmmaker and writer, for the creative help in writing this article.
