What does it mean to say that samsāra exists? It means that after a person dies, it is not the case—as materialism claims—that everything simply disappears into nothingness. There are actually many ways to demonstrate this, and Madhyamaka is sufficient to prove it. Due to time constraints, I cannot go into a detailed explanation today, so I will just present one line of reasoning for now.
Since we assume that the world is material, the first step is to analyze matter itself. So what exactly is “matter”? For example, I am holding a computer mouse in my hand. You cannot simply say, “The mouse is matter.” It is made up of materials like plastic and metal. If you keep breaking it down, you get molecules, electrons, and atoms. Then the question becomes: if we continue to divide it, what is the smallest unit that ultimately constitutes this mouse?
In fact, science still has not reached a definitive conclusion on this. It may already be working at the level of quantum mechanics or even superstring theory. regardless, if you keep dividing matter all the way down, it will inevitably become something formless and shapeless—what we call “energy.” Einstein’s mass–energy equivalence formula, E = mc², already demonstrates this, and nuclear weapons are built on precisely this principle. Molecules break down into atoms, and atoms in turn convert into energy. In the end, you reach a point where there is nothing tangible left—you can only say that it is a cluster of energy.
But then the question arises: What exactly is energy? This touches on a major philosophical issue—does energy have an intrinsic essence? If so, then it would become a tangible substance with form and characteristics. If it does not have an essence, then what exactly is energy?
Is something that is formless and without characteristics like empty space? But energy has effects, whereas empty space does not. So what is “energy”? In truth, “energy” is merely a term. Even modern science has not yet clarified what its intrinsic nature is. We only know that it has effects.
What we can be certain of is this: energy is not a substance with form, appearance, volume, or spatial extension. In the end, it too can be resolved into emptiness. Matter is broken down into something like energy, and eventually one discovers that even energy turns out to be “nothing.” By the same logic, we ultimately cannot say what truly produced this mouse. Objective idealism claims that God created all things in the world.
If we deny that it is produced by an objective spirit (such as God), and we also deny that it is produced by objective matter, then how did the mouse in my hand come into being? There is only one way it could arise—through subjective experience.
Why can we say this? Because in a dream, you can also fabricate such a mouse. The mouse fabricated in a dream is certainly not produced by matter; when you wake up, you know this very clearly. Nor can it be said to be created by God—it is created by your consciousness, by your mind.
Since such scenes can appear in dreams, what if our reality is also like a dream? Therefore, if we deny that our present experience is created by matter, and we also deny that it is created by God, then there is only one possible source—it is created by our mind. The mind is what experiences, what senses, its existence.
Then what is the mind? Is the mind God? You cannot say that your mind is God. If your mind were God, then you yourself would become God.
These philosophical questions are very profound. Take, for example, a flower. When we see it, the mind manifests it, and it exists. But when I turn around or leave this classroom, does the flower still exist? There have been many philosophical debates about this. For instance, Berkeley said: “When you leave, the flower is with God. God keeps it for you, and when you return, God gives it back to you.”
In Buddhism, there is also a similar way of understanding this issue, but Buddhism does not acknowledge the existence of God, because the concept of God can be undermined by certain lines of reasoning.
The Buddhist view is this: when you are looking at the flower, it manifests within your mind; when you turn your back or walk away, the flower exists in the form of a “seed” (bīja). Buddhism introduced the term “seed,” which in fact refers to a latent or dormant state. When your eyes are not seeing it, it exists in a non-manifest way. This concept is quite complex. You really need to study Yogācāra to understand it—it is very fascinating.
For example, if a large tree falls three thousand kilometers away, do you think there is a sound or not? In fact, sound only arises when your ear comes into contact with it. When others say there is a sound, that is their perception. Therefore, the existence of sound depends on your ear for its manifestation. Likewise, the color of this flower also depends on your sense faculties for its manifestation.
When it does not appear within your sensory experience, in what way does it exist for you? It can only exist in a latent state. You cannot say that it simply “exists,” yet we have long been mistaken on this point.
Materialism assumes that this is a kind of material existence, and therefore believes that when we leave the room or turn our backs, it is still there—we simply do not see it. In fact, this is a major misunderstanding. If we continue to investigate further, many questions of this kind will arise. For example, when quantum mechanics develops to a certain point, it also suggests that the way the world appears is related to our observation. But today, let us not go too far afield— let us return to our main topic.
You will find that all these things are created neither by matter nor by God,but by our mind—including our body and our sensations. What does this imply? It implies that although matter may be destroyed, the mind itself will not be destroyed simply because matter (the body) is destroyed.
In the past, we believed that our sensations would cease with the death of the body, and that life would end after this single existence. However, through the various lines of reasoning found in Madhyamaka, we eventually discover that the mind does not cease when the body ceases. This is because the mind is fundamental—it is what gives rise to the body. Therefore, when something produced by the mind is destroyed, it does not mean that the mind which produces it is also destroyed.
In fact, when we search for the mind, we find that it cannot be destroyed at all—it only keeps changing. You can never truly destroy it. It transforms into different bodies and different sensations, and yet you have no control over it. The mind does not obey consciousness. Conceptually, we may say, “I should not love this,” but the mind insists on loving it anyway.
For example, a poor person may love Hermès and Louis Vuitton, yet be unable to afford them. Rationally, he knows he should not love them—loving them will only cause inner conflict—but his mind insists on loving them. Or take another example: a poor man falls in love with a princess. His Reason tells him, “A toad should not crave swan’s flesh,”yet he still loves the princess, thinking of her day and night, tormenting himself—because the mind is uncontrollable. Hatred works the same way. If someone offends you, reason tells you,“Hating him serves no purpose,”yet you still go on hating.
Therefore, our love and hatred are not up to us; the mind is disobedient. In creating these material appearances, it behaves in the same way— it does not listen to you. This kind of uncontrollable, compulsive activity is called karma in Buddhism.
We often say, “You have karma; you are creating karma!” What does this “karma” actually mean? Karma is not created by God, nor is it created by matter. It is, in fact, an accumulation within your own mind. When this accumulation reaches a certain point, you lose control over it.
For example, when we are on our phones, at the beginning we do so voluntarily. But after a long time, you will find that you have to look—you cannot help it. This is karma at work; even your conscious intention can no longer control it.
Loving a person is the same. At the beginning, the love is not very deep, and you can still control it. If you break up, you break up—it does not seem like a big deal. But after several decades, you may find that you simply cannot separate anymore. Why? Because love has already formed a force within your mind. That force is what Buddhism calls karma.
The body is the same. The body has been conditioned into this form through habituation. Although it is constantly changing, your love for it and your attachment to it happen without reflection. Every morning when you wake up, you immediately feel the body. Whether you like it or not, you are feeling it. This strong sensation makes your mind firmly believe that it truly exists. Then, once it is damaged, you suffer intensely.
But this does not mean that when the body disappears, the mind that gives rise to the body and matter is also destroyed. The mind is indestructible. You will discover that the mind which gives rise to all phenomena has no volume and no destructibility. Madhyamaka reasoning ultimately arrives at this point.
To realize Madhyamaka through detailed analysis and direct experiential observation—that is what is called practice. At this point, your mind knows very clearly that, in practice, everything has “collapsed.” You can let the entire world collapse; nothing appears at all. What remains is only the fundamental essence that gives rise to everything. This is called awakening or enlightenment.
At that moment, you understand: “Oh, so this is the essence of the world. It gives rise to everything, yet it itself is not destroyed.” When you discover that it is indestructible, that is awakening.
The mind has two levels. One is its capacity to manifest all phenomena; the other is its essence. When you have not yet clearly realized its essence, but you have discovered its manifesting capacity, this is called the ālaya-vijñāna (storehouse consciousness). At this point, you will discover that after a person dies, it is not the case that nothing remains. Another form of life will manifest—this is what is called samsāra. Although the appearances of life (the body) undergo continual birth and death, the ālaya-vijñāna that gives rise to life remains in this way. All of this can be realized through theory and actual practice.
These are some of the Buddhist theories explaining samsāra, as well as the genuine validity of its actual realization. If one truly applies oneself, anyone can do it. The problem is that nowadays, no one takes it seriously. Or when they do practice, they are just fooling around—a bunch of people getting together like a party, and some even use it to scam money. As a result, there are now more frauds than genuine practitioners.
Why do they do this? To put it bluntly, it is because they are foolish. They do not believe that Buddhism contains something even more formidable—karmic retribution: whatever you do, you will receive the corresponding result.
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
