

   
   
           BPS Newsletter Cover Essay #16 (Summer-Fall 1990)
                                           
                                           
                          SELF-TRANSFORMATION
                                           
                            by Bhikkhu Bodhi
                                           
                                           
   
   
   It is perhaps symptomatic of the "fallen" nature of the ordinary 
   human condition that few of us pass the full extent of our lives 
   comfortably reconciled to our natural selves. Even in the midst of 
   prosperity and success, grinding notes of discontent trouble our 
   days and disturbing dreams come to haunt our sleep. As long as our 
   eyes remain coated with dust we incline to locate the cause of our 
   discontent outside ourselves -- in spouse, neighbor or job, in 
   implacable fate or fluky chance. But when the dust drops off and our 
   eyes open, we soon find that the real cause lies within.
   
   When we discover how deeply the cause of our unhappiness is lodged 
   in the mind, the realization dawns that cosmetic changes will not be 
   anywhere near enough, that a fundamental internal transformation is 
   required. This desire for a transformed personality, for the 
   emergence of a new man from the ashes of the old, is one of the 
   perennial lures of the human heart. From ancient times it has been a 
   potent wellspring of the spiritual quest, and even in the secular, 
   life-affirming culture of our own cosmopolitan age this longing has 
   not totally disappeared.
   
   While such concepts as redemption, salvation and deliverance may no 
   longer characterize the transformation that is sought, the urge for 
   a radical reshaping of the personality persists as strong as ever, 
   appearing in guises that are compatible with the secular worldview. 
   Where previously this urge sought fulfillment in the temple, ashram 
   and monastery, it now resorts to new venues: the office of the 
   psychoanalyst, the weekend workshop, the panoply of newly spawned 
   therapies and cults. However, despite the change of scene and 
   conceptual framework, the basic pattern remains the same. 
   Disgruntled with the ruts of our ingrained habits, we long to 
   exchange all that is dense and constrictive in our personalities for 
   a new, lighter, freer mode of being.
   
   Self-transformation is also a fundamental goal of the Buddha's 
   teaching, an essential part of his program for liberation from 
   suffering. The Dhamma was never intended for those who are already 
   perfect saints. It is addressed to fallible human beings beset with 
   all the shortcomings typical of unpolished human nature: conduct 
   that is fickle and impulsive, minds that are tainted by greed, anger 
   and selfishness, views that are distorted and habits that lead to 
   harm for oneself and others. The purpose of the teaching is to 
   transform such people -- ourselves -- into "accomplished ones": into 
   those whose every action is pure, whose minds are calm and composed, 
   whose wisdom has fathomed the deepest truths and whose conduct is 
   always marked by a compassionate concern for others and for the 
   welfare of the world.
   
   Between these two poles of the teaching -- the flawed and knotted 
   personality that we bring with us as raw material into the training, 
   and the fully liberated personality that emerges in the end -- there 
   lies a gradual process of self-transformation governed by highly 
   specific guidelines. This transformation is effected by the twin 
   aspects of the path: abandoning (//pahana//), the removal from the 
   mind of all that is harmful and unwholesome, and development 
   (//bhavana//), the cultivation of qualities that are wholesome, pure 
   and purifying.
   
   What distinguishes the Buddha's program for self-transformation from 
   the multitude of other systems proposing a similar end is the 
   contribution made by another principle with which it is invariably 
   conjoined. This is the principle of self-transcendence, the endeavor 
   to relinquish all attempts to establish a sense of solid personal 
   identity. In the Buddhist training the aim of transforming the 
   personality must be complemented by a parallel effort to overcome 
   all identification with the elements that constitute our phenomenal 
   being. The teaching of //anatta// or not-self is not so much a 
   philosophical thesis calling for intellectual assent as a 
   prescription for self-transcendence. It maintains that our ongoing 
   attempt to establish a sense of identity by taking our personalities 
   to be "I" and "mine" is in actuality a project born out of clinging, 
   a project that at the same time lies at the root of our suffering. 
   If, therefore, we seek to be free from suffering, we cannot stop 
   with the transformation of the personality into some sublime and 
   elevated mode as the final goal. What is needed, rather, is a 
   transformation that brings about the removal of clinging, and with 
   it, the removal of all tendencies to self-affirmation.
   
   It is important to stress this transcendent aspect of the Dhamma 
   because, in our own time when "immanent" secular values are 
   ascendent, the temptation is great to let this aspect drop out of 
   sight. If we assume that the worth of a practice consists solely in 
   its ability to yield concrete this-worldly results, we may incline 
   to view the Dhamma simply as a means of refining and healing the 
   divided personality, leading in the end to a renewed affirmation of 
   our mundane selves and our situation in the world. Such an approach, 
   however, would ignore the Buddha's insistence that all the elements 
   of our personal existence are impermanent, unsatisfactory and not 
   self, and his counsel that we should learn to distance ourselves 
   from such things and ultimately to discard them.
   
   In the proper practice of the Dhamma both principles, that of 
   self-transformation and that of self-transcendence, are equally 
   crucial. The principle of self-transformation alone is blind, 
   leading at best to an ennobled personality but not to a liberated 
   one. The principle of self-transcendence alone is barren, leading to 
   a cold ascetic withdrawal devoid of the potential for enlightenment. 
   It is only when these two complementary principles work in harmony, 
   blended and balanced in the course of training, that they can bridge 
   the gap between the actual and ideal and bring to a fruitful 
   conclusion the quest for the end of suffering.
   
   Of the two principles, that of self-transcendence claims primacy 
   both at the beginning of the path and at the end. For it is this 
   principle that gives direction to the process of 
   self-transformation, revealing the goal towards which a 
   transformation of the personality should lead and the nature of the 
   changes required to bring the goal within our reach. However, the 
   Buddhist path is not a perpendicular ascent to be scaled with picks, 
   ropes and studded boots, but a step-by-step training which unfolds 
   in a natural progression. Thus the abrupt challenge of 
   self-transcendence -- the relinquishing of all points of attachment 
   -- is met and mastered by the gradual process of 
   self-transformation. By moral discipline, mental purification and 
   the development of insight, we advance by stages from our original 
   condition of bondage to the domain of untrammeled freedom.

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