..续本文上一页action could go, and whether it could lead to a dimension beyond the reach of change. His Awakening was confirmation that it could—if developed to the appropriate level of skillfulness. He thus taught that there are four types of action, corresponding to four levels of skill: three that produce pleasant, unpleasant, and mixed experiences within the cycles of space and time; and a fourth that leads beyond action to a level of happiness transcending the dimensions of space and time, thus eliminating the need to produce any further happiness.

　　Because the activities of producing and consuming require space and time, a happiness transcending space and time, by its very nature, is neither produced nor consumed. Thus, when the Buddha reached that happiness and stepped outside the modes of producing and consuming, he was able to turn back and see exactly how pervasive a role these activities play in ordinary experience, and how imprisoning they normally are. He saw that our experience of the present is an activity—something fabricated or produced, moment to moment, from the raw material provided by past actions. We even fabricate our identity, our sense of who we are. At the same time, we try to consume any pleasure that can be found in what we”ve produced—although in our desire to consume pleasure, we often gobble down pain. With every moment, production and consumption are intertwined: We consume experiences as we produce them, and produce them as we consume. The way we consume our pleasures or pains can produce further pleasures or pains, now and into the future, depending on how skillful we are. The three parts of the latter phrase in the Buddha”s question—“my / longterm / well‐being and happiness”—provide standards for gauging the level of our skill in approaching true pleasure or happiness. (The Pali word, here— sukha—can be translated as pleasure, happiness, ease, or bliss.) We apply these standards to the experiences we consume: if they aren”t long‐term, then no matter how pleasant they might be, they aren”t true happiness. If they”re not true happiness, there”s no reason to claim them as “mine.”

　　This insight forms the basis for the Three Characteristics that the Buddha taught for inducing a sense of dispassion for normal time‐ and space‐bound experience. Anicca, the first of the three, is pivotal. Anicca applies to everything that changes. Often translated as “impermanent,” it”s actually the negative of nicca, which means constant or dependable. Everything that changes is inconstant. Now, the difference between “impermanent” and “inconstant” may seem semantic, but it”s crucial to the way anicca functions in the Buddha”s teachings. As the early texts state repeatedly, if something is anicca then the other two characteristics automatically follow: it”s dukkha (stressful) and anatta (notself), i.e., not worthy to be claimed as me or mine.

　　If we translate anicca as impermanent, the connection among these Three Characteristics might seem debatable. But if we translate it as inconstant, and consider the Three Characteristics in light of the Buddha”s original question, the connection is clear. If you”re seeking a dependable basis for long‐term happiness and ease, anything inconstant is obviously a stressful place to pin your hopes— like trying to relax in an unstable chair whose legs are liable to break at any time. If you understand that your sense of self is something willed and fabricated— that you choose to create it—there”s no compelling reason to keep creating a “me” or “mine” around any experience that”s inconstant and stressful. You want something better. You don”t want to make that experience the goal of your practice.

　　So what do you do with experiences that are inconstant and stressful

　　 You could treat them as worthless an…

《All About Change》全文未完，请进入下页继续阅读…