The Nature of Concepts

There is a famous parable in the Republic of Plato about a cave. In the cave is a row of people, chained in such a way that they can only face the back wall. Behind the row of people is a fire and a procession of figures walking by engaged in all the activities of life. The procession of figures casts shadows on the back wall of the cave. The people who are chained can see only the changing view of shadows, and because that is all they have ever seen, they take these shadows to be ultimate reality. Sometimes a person who is bound in this way, through great effort, manages to loosen the chains and turn around. He or she sees the fire and the procession and begins to understand that the shadows are not the reality, but merely a reflection on the wall. Perhaps with further effort that person is able to cut the chains completely and emerge into the sunlight, into freedom. 

Our predicament is similar to those people chained in the cave. The shadows are the world of concepts in which we live. Chained through our attachments, we perceive the world through our ideas, our thoughts, our mental constructs, taking these concepts to be the reality itself.

There are many concepts with which we have been strongly conditioned and that are deeply ingrained in our minds. For example, many people’s lives are committed to the concept of place, of country, of nation. On the planet, there are no divisions between countries. Our minds have created these arbitrary divisions. Every time you cross a border you see how much “reality” has been invested in this concept of place. So many problems in the world—political and economic tensions and hostilities—are related to the thought, “This is my nation, my country.” In understanding that the concept is only the product of our own thought processes, we can begin to free ourselves from that attachment.

Concepts of time are also strongly conditioned in our minds, ideas of past and future. What is it that we call time? We have certain thoughts occurring in the present moment—memories, reflections—we label this whole class of thoughts “past,” and project it somewhere beyond us, apart from the present moment. Likewise, we engage in planning or imagining, label these thoughts “future,” and project them outside into some imagined reality. We rarely see that “past” and “future” are happening right now. All that there is, is an unfolding of present moments. We have created these concepts to serve a useful purpose, but by taking the ideas to be the reality, by not understanding that they are merely the product of our own thought processes, we find ourselves burdened by worries and regrets about the past and anxieties of anticipation about what has not yet happened. When we can settle back into the moment, realizing that past and future are simply thoughts in the present, then we free ourselves from the bondage of “time.”

Self, I, me, mine are all ideas in the mind, arising out of our identification with various aspects of the mind-body process.

It is useful to develop insight into the nature of concepts to see how attached we are to them. We have the idea that we “own” things. The cushion that we sit on does not know that it is owned by anyone. The concept of ownership deals with the relationship of nearness we have to various objects. At times we are near to objects, use them, and then have the idea that we own them. Actually, ownership is a thought process independent of the actual relationship that exists between us and objects in the world. Freeing ourselves from attachment to “ownership” frees us from our enslavement to objects.

Another concept with which we are all particularly involved is the concept of man and woman. When you close your eyes there is the breath, sensations, sounds, thoughts—where is “man” or “woman” except as an idea, a concept? Man and woman cease to exist when the mind is silent. Imagine waves arising out of the ocean and commenting upon each other as being big or small, beautiful or grand, which is true in a relative sense but doesn’t reflect the underlying unity of the great mass of water. It is just the same when we become attached to concepts about certain shapes and forms; comparisons, judgments, evaluations, all arise and strengthen the relative separateness and isolation. In meditation, we free ourselves from attachment to that conceptualization and experience the fundamental unity of the elements that comprise our being.

Perhaps the most deeply ingrained concept, the one that has kept us chained longest in the cave of shadows, binding us to the wheel of life and death and rebirth, is the concept of self. The idea that there is someone behind this flow, that there is some entity, some permanent element, that is the essence of our being. Self, I, me, mine are all ideas in the mind, arising out of our identification with various aspects of the mind-body process. From the beginning this “self” does not exist, yet because we’re so firmly attached to the idea of it, we spend much of our lives defending or enlarging or satisfying this imaginary self. Meditation helps us to see its conceptual nature, to see that in reality it does not exist, that it is simply an idea, an extraneous projection onto what’s happening in the moment.

These are a few of the concepts that keep us bound—concepts of place, of time, of ownership, of man or woman, of self. You can see how very strong these concepts are, how much of our lives revolve about them, how much we live in the world of shadow. Kalu Rinpoche, a well-known Tibetan meditation master, wrote,

You live in illusion and the appearance of things. There is a Reality. You are that Reality. When you understand this, you will see that you are nothing. And being nothing, you are everything. That is all.

There are four “ultimate realities.” They are called that because they can be experienced, as opposed to merely thought about. These four ultimate realities are the entire content of our experience.

The first of these are the material elements composing all objects of the physical universe. Traditionally, and in terms of how we can experience them in our practice, they are described as the earth, air, fire, and water elements. The earth element is the element of extension. We experience it as the hardness or softness of objects. When we experience pain in the body, it is a manifestation of this element. When we walk and have contact with the earth, that feeling of tangible contact is the earth element—the feeling of hardness, softness, extension.

The fire element is the quality of heat or cold. Sometimes in meditation the fire element may become very predominant and the body begins to feel as if it is burning. No “one” is burning, it is only the fire element manifesting its own nature; that is, the sensations of heat or cold.

The air element is vibration or movement. In walking meditation, what we are experiencing is the play of elements. Foot and leg are concepts, a name we give to a certain way of experiencing the flow of elements. There is no foot, no leg, no body, no self; simply the experience of movement and touching sensations.

The water element represents fluidity and cohesion, the element responsible for holding things together. When you have dry flour, all the granules fall apart. They don’t stick together. When you add water to it, then all those particles of flour cohere. That is how the water element manifests itself: holding all the material elements together.

The second of the ultimate realities is consciousness. Consciousness is the knowing faculty, that which knows the object. Sometimes people have the idea that in this mind-body, there is one consciousness from birth to death, one observer who is knowing everything. This idea gives rise to the concept of a permanent self. It occurs when we have not silenced our minds enough to observe the flow of knowing. Consciousness itself is arising and passing away in each instant. There is not one mind that is observing all phenomena; at every instant “mind” is created and destroyed. The consciousness that hears is different from the consciousness that sees, or tastes, or smells, or touches, or thinks. There are different mind-moments, arising and passing away every instant. When the mind becomes quiet, it is possible to observe this flow of consciousness. Insight into the flow and impermanence of the knowing faculty, understanding that there is not one knower, one observer, but rather an ongoing process at every moment, exposes the illusion of a permanent self.

The third of the ultimate realities is called mental factors. They are the qualities of mind that determine how consciousness relates to the object. Different combinations of mental factors arise with each moment of consciousness and pass away with it. Greed, hatred, and delusion are the three mental factors that are the roots of all unwholesome activity. All unwholesome karma, or action, is motivated by one or another of these three roots. For example, the factor of greed has the nature of clinging to an object. When greed arises in a moment of consciousness, it influences the mind in such a way that it clings, it sticks, it grasps, it is attached. That is the nature of the greed factor. It is impermanent and not self, not I; merely a factor of mind working in its own way.

Hatred is a mental factor that has the nature of condemning the object, of having aversion. Aversion, ill will, annoyance, irritation, anger, all of these are expressions of the mental factor of hatred. Hatred is also not I, not self, not mine; it is an impermanent factor that arises and passes away.

Delusion is a factor that has the function of clouding the mind so that we are unaware of what the object is. We don’t know what is happening.

Every moment of mindfulness is a moment of egolessness, of purity.

There are also three wholesome roots of mind: non-greed, non-hatred, non-delusion. Non-greed has the nature of generosity, non-attachment, non-possessiveness. Non-hatred is love, feeling good will for all beings, friendship. Non-delusion is wisdom.

All of these mental factors are impersonal and impermanent. There is no one who is greedy, no one who is hateful, no one who is wise, no one who is generous. There is only the arising and passing of moments of consciousness concurrent with certain factors of mind, each one functioning in its own way. Where then does the idea of self come from? Why is it that we’re so conditioned to believe in the existence of “I”?

There is one mental factor that is called wrong view, and it has the function of identifying with the various changing elements of the mind and body. When the factor of wrong view occurs in a moment of consciousness, the concept of self arises. But it too is impermanent and impersonal, arising at times and passing away. When we are mindful in the moment, wrong view does not arise, and so we begin to free ourselves from the conditioning of “I, me, mine.” Every moment of mindfulness is a moment of egolessness, of purity.

The question has often been asked in this practice, “Who’s being mindful?” Mindfulness, too, is a mental factor. It has the function of noticing what the object is, staying aware of the present moment. Gurdjieff called this quality self-remembering. There is no one who is mindful, only the functioning of a particular factor: an awareness without clinging, condemning, or identifying. As mindfulness is developed, there is a deeper understanding that all conditioned phenomena are transitory and empty of an abiding self.

We are like a big, moving jigsaw puzzle. The pieces of the puzzle are the material elements, consciousness, and mental factors. When the pieces join together in a certain way we see “man” or “woman,” “tree,” “house.” But that is only the picture of the arranged pieces, the concepts. It is the fundamental elements of mind and body, the underlying energies in constant flow and transformation, that constitute the reality of our experience.

The fourth ultimate reality is nirvana. Nirvana is like the experience of a person freeing himself entirely from the chains and emerging from the cave into sunlight, going beyond this conditioned mind-body process into freedom.

We are all in the process of breaking the chains that keep us bound in the cave of ignorance. At times during the practice it may seem as if nothing much is happening except a lot of pain and restlessness and agitation and doubt. But, in fact, every moment of awareness, every moment of mindfulness, helps to weaken the chain of our attachments. We are building the momentum of that awareness and, as the mindfulness and concentration get stronger, the mind becomes more powerful and insightful.

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From The Experience of Insight by Joseph Goldstein. © 1976 by Joseph Goldstein. This edition published 2020. Reprinted in arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc. Boulder, CO