Vigilance

The harsh, judgmental conservatism contained within the most compassionate and liberal ancient east-Asian philosophical and religious texts never fails to shatter a modern mind’s preconceptions—though by now, a reader of these Meditations ought to be acclimated to such a discovery that even peace-loving Buddhism contains an exclusive streak. And as the Buddha speaks, one learns that there must be a fundamental dichotomy between those who are vigilant and those who are not:

Unwise, foolish people
Give themselves over to negligence.
The wise
Protect vigilance as the greatest treasure. . . .

Driving away negligence with vigilance,
Ascending the tower of insight and free of sorrow,
A sage observes the sorrowing masses
As someone standing on a mountain observes
fools on the ground below.

Vigilant among the negligent,
Wide awake among the sleeping,
The wise one advances
Like a swift horse leaving a weak one behind. (Buddha 9)

Indeed, this is no light criticism but the identifying of a fundamental difference between those on the path toward Nirvana and those whose paths lead only to deeper and deeper Mara. Vigilance is the up word, maintaining force; and Negligence is the passive backsliding into lower and more miserable states of being. In the context of Hindu Buddhism, that extends beyond just this life. it means the reincarnation as something less than human. One might even be tempted to say that vigilance and negligence are proxy measures for an individuals humanity, though such a temptation is dangerous—that will be discussed shortly.

But first, what is meant by “vigilance?” The translator notes a few alternative translations which give readers a clearer idea as to the meaning of these passages. Alongside “vigilance” are “diligence,” “heedfulness,” “watchfulness,” and “attentiveness.” Together, the concept is something like “paying conscious attention” as one would when engaged in a dangerous and demanding activity. When applied to self-reflection and mediation, it is synonymous with the Jungian practice of bringing elements of one’s shadow into consciousness. Both are to attend to things which makes us uncomfortable, angry, depressed, or nervous.

But does not such attention run counter to the Buddha’s claims? Vigilance, according to his words, is meant to bring and end to sorrow. To this question, the answer naturally follows: one can only resolve his inner turmoils if he is willing to acknowledge them and voluntarily set them right or let them go. That is what Siddhartha meant by “Ascending the tower of insight.” It is the same elevation of consciousness which Jung describes as preceding the necessary precipitous fall from which one can begin the process of individuation—that is, the process of integrating and making peace with instinctive aspects of the self.

To fail this first step is to remain one of the, “fools on the ground.” It sounds harsh, and it is, but that makes it no less accurate. Fool is the appropriate word, for the negligent person in question will continually be wrong in the exact sense of the term. He will fail to identify his problem, if he is even willing to admit that he has one. He will fail to implement a solution, or else he will try to solve the wrong problem with  a solution which only increases his misery. He thus becomes a man trapped, staggering aimlessly in a cloud of delusion. In relation to him, the degree to which the vigilant man keeps to his vigilance will put greater and greater distance between them.

Thus does Siddhartha say:

Vigilance is the path to the Deathless;
Negligence the path to death.
The vigilant do not die;
The negligent are as if already dead. (8)

Deathlessness is akin to the Taoist Path. It is the realization of the Equalizing Assessment of All Things by which one restructures his value hierarchy to be more in accord with his own nature and the nature of the universe. It is the active process of becoming a more unified being—i.e. the process of atonement; read: at-one-ment. Freedom from the fear of death, acceptance of it, is freedom from its grasp over one’s life and decisions. For it is difficult to compel a man’s will when even threat of his bodily destruction does not daunt him. This rings true even when one must takes risks in life. If one fears death, he may hesitate at the key moment. He who does not fear death is the same man who seizes the opportunity when it presents itself on his life path.

Negligence, on the other hand, is the decadence so prevalent in life. In fact, it is so pervasive, that passivity alone is sufficient to bring on entropy of the soul—i.e. of one’s health, skills, morals, and morale. Thus are the negligent already dead. In each moment, they are straying off the path and into swamps, mires, and black poison bogs which inundate them with blinding, sulphuric suffering. To use a Buddhist metaphor, the Wheel of Samsara turns whether we do or not. If one is to keep his head above water, let alone ascend to the wheel’s top, he must make a practice of consciousness, of honest self-reflection, acceptance, and letting go of his desires to control those things which do not belong to his being. Anything less than this will result in his repeated return to the refuse-water-plunge. After all, negligence does not require one to do evil; one can be negligent even if he does nothing at all.

Innocence is not sufficient. One must be continually humble, diligent, and honest to an approach enlightenment—to not fall into the trap of the life-denying hedonists and Platonic philosopher kings.

Buddha Siddhartha Gautama. The Dhammapada; Teachings of the Buddha, translated by Gil Fronsdal, Shambala Publications Inc, 2008.