Mindfulness in Buddhism: Shakyamuni

According to Nichiren Daishonin (ND), through great meditation and insight, Shakyamuni grasped the universal spiritual law of Myoho Renge Kyo. In other words, Shakyamuni viewed all existential phenomena — all his experiences, internal or external — as manifestations of this law. This understanding enabled him to identify the essence of the law within himself.

He firmly observed his mind with the understanding that, based on cause and effect, all phenomena are forever changing; thoughts come and go, but the essence of one's life remains always part of the whole, transcending the perceived stages of life and death, forever interconnected with all there is.

Mindfulness as it is currently practised in psychological therapy and Zen-type Buddhism, however, appears to limit its focus only to the present moment, entering an accepting observer's perspective. This is certainly of therapeutic value if clients are plagued by overwhelming thought processes at the time, but beyond this it neither explains to the practitioner who or what the observer within them really is, nor provides a framework that clarifies their experience and its greater significance in the world they live in. Hence, the more existential questions brought on by events such as birth, ageing, sickness and death — and the greater quest for meaning — remain largely unresolved through the practice of mindfulness.

Psychology has embraced mindfulness as a technique because it appears devoid of religious or spiritual content, and it is effective in changing thoughts and behaviours — but then again, so are most behavioural therapies that help people develop a focus, an acceptance, and a schema by which their experience can be put into perspective. But is what has been so enthusiastically embraced by psychologists as mindfulness really what the original Buddha, Shakyamuni, had envisioned? What did the mindfulness he practised do for him — he who sought true liberation from the woes of existence? We know that, being of correct understanding, his worries about birth, old age, sickness and death dissipated, because he perceived the true nature of phenomena and the world around him. He must also have been deeply motivated, since he went to great lengths to teach others to become enlightened to the true nature of their lives, just as he had.

So the question is: what would we do if, like him, we came to believe and embrace the idea that we are living eternally, interconnected with all there is, moving through the stages of birth, ageing, sickness and death, faced always with the consequences of our own actions — cause and effect — no matter where we go? What would we do if we came to realise that our perceived self is not fixed, but constantly changing and evolving as we are shaped by the world around us and by our own creations? If we firmly believed this, what would change for us, psychologically? Would we feel more empowered, wiser — would it change our behaviour for the better?

It appears that this fuller level of Buddhist mindfulness, as taught by the Buddha himself, has far more to offer than a practice that keeps focus only on the here and now, to the exclusion of yesterday and tomorrow. Understanding the past and holding hope for a better future are just as important to a healthy mind — and to our ability to truly value the here and now — as presence itself.