Eight Steps to Freedom | Page 6

the form of some inherent predilection toward a desired end, then the choice becomes a matter of pure caprice and the concept of volition becomes meaningless. If we keep following our reasons for making choices back far enough, we eventually come to an inherited or conditioned nature that we had no apparent choice in creating. It is these elements which are in effect dictating choice rather than an abstract notion of a self that wills. For a will to have being it has to have a structure, a sense of self; and that self has to consist of elements which are prior to the will. Therefore, the will is by its very nature conditioned.
On the other hand, to speak of a will which has no freedom is also a misunderstanding of both the nature of the will and freedom. It is obvious that we are constantly engaged in making choices for potential courses of action. While our choices are predicated upon preferences which are part of our inherent nature in so far as we are one with that nature, the choices we make will represent our will. Freedom of the will then comes down to a merging of the will with our fundamental Buddha nature. This nature, as we have already seen, participates in the total reality around us and, to the extent we can join our wills to this nature, that is the extent to which we will find the world in agreement with us.
From the perspective of Buddhism, the process of thought can not be separated from the process of will. One is always in contact with the other in mutual interaction. This is important for us to remember because it forces us to recognize how our actions effect our world view. It is a simple process to analyze how our viewpoint effects our actions because in most cases our actions are predicated upon a conscious viewpoint. What we do not see is that whenever we choose to act, that action in turn effects our view of the world. The action we take is registered in our unconscious as memory and then becomes available as reference in future actions.
Every time we face a situation that calls for action, we are required to analyze the situation through the cognitive process and then make a choice, activating the will. In the process, we are accessing our memory, and our memory contains both the memory of our previous actions and our world view as well. This begins a process where the mind searches for continuity or conformity between the past action and world view.
Memory has to link pertinent data together in order to give our conscious mind a pattern of information appropriate to the situation. If our actions are not consistent with our world view, it creates a problem for the unconscious. How does it know what information to provide us with if the natural patterns of consistency are not there?
Our unconscious is left with only two choices; it can ignore our world view and only feed us those memories consistent with our past actions, or relegate views held but not acted upon to a kind of sub directory (to borrow a computer term). The mind, however, does not find this kind of conflict amenable to efficient functioning and invariably reacts to the inherent tension between world view and actions taken which are inconsistent with world view. In other words, every time we take an action that violates what we know to be right, it causes chaos in our unconscious. What eventually develops if this inconsistency continues is either a great deal of emotional turmoil or a duplicitous spiritual character.
From a Buddhist perspective, what I have described is extremely simplified. There are many very subtle descriptions of consciousness as described in the Sutras such as Abhidharma Pitaka. What is important for a contemporary student of the way to understand, is the basic interaction between his or her actions and how this effects their spiritual practice.
The Buddha explained right resolve as being threefold; first a resolve to renunciation, secondly a resolve to good will, and finally a resolve to harmlessness. These three resolutions counter the influence of attachment to desire, ill will, and harmfulness, respectively. Of these three, the hardest for westerners to understand is the principle of renunciation. When we usually think of a renunciate, we have the image of a tonsured monk living in cloister or a celibate anchorite dwelling in some cave. The fact is that such individuals may or may not be renunciates, depending upon the motivation and understanding which drives them to live a life of poverty and chastity. If they are performing their practice with an idea of a goal which is outside the practice, such as enlightenment or holiness, then they are not renunciates. A