You Might Already Be in Hell (Buddhist Teaching) - Alan Watts

Now, when most people think of Buddhism, they imagine something rather peaceful. You know, quiet monks, soft bells, incense drifting lazily through the air. Perhaps someone sitting cross-legged contemplating eternity with a faint smile. >> [music] >> And so it comes as quite a shock, almost a betrayal, to discover that within Buddhist tradition, there are descriptions of hells so vivid, so grotesque, [music] that they rival anything you'd find in medieval Christianity. We are talking about beings stretched across iron beds, >> [music] >> nails driven through their bodies, molten metal >> [music] >> poured down their throats. And you think, wait a minute. >> [music] >> This is Buddhism? Yes. And this discomfort you feel is precisely [music] where the inquiry begins. You see, in Buddhism, >> [music] >> these hell realms, called Naraka, are not eternal damnation. >> [music] >> They are consequences, temporary states. You don't go there because a god is angry with you. You go there because, >> [music] >> in a sense, you've tuned yourself to that frequency. >> [music] >> In Hindu cosmology, you find something very similar. Realms that correspond to states of consciousness, not divine punishment. So, when a being enters hell, it is not sentenced forever. It is burning off karma. Now, karma, of course, is not reward and punishment. That's a childish interpretation. Karma simply means action and its echo. So, if you live in a way that generates confusion, harm, greed, well, then, the echo of that becomes your environment. And hell is simply what that echo feels like when it becomes overwhelming. And there is a rather fascinating story in early Buddhist texts. A man dies and finds himself before Yama, the king of hell. Now, Yama is not the devil. He's not evil. He's more like a cosmic judge, or even better, a mirror. And Yama asks the man, "Did you not see the signs? A child being born, a person growing old, someone falling sick, someone dying? In other words, did you not notice the nature of existence itself?" And the man says, "Well, no." He was distracted, busy, lost in trivialities. And so Yama doesn't condemn him. He simply reveals the consequence. And this is very important. Because in Buddhism, hell is not imposed. It is realized. And now, here's where things become quite subtle. [music] Some Buddhists take these hells literally as actual realms in the [music] cosmos. Others see them as psychological states. And from a Zen perspective, the distinction [music] is not terribly important. Because ask yourself, have you ever been in a state of rage so intense it felt like burning alive? Have you ever been consumed by guilt, [music] anxiety, despair, to the point where your own mind became [music] torture? That is Naraka, not after death, but now. Zen has a saying, "When angry, you are in hell. When peaceful, you are in [music] heaven." And so hell is not just a place you go. It is a state [music] you enter. Now, uh the texts describe many different hells. Cold hells, where beings freeze, their skin cracking open like blue lotus petals. Hot hells, where bodies are burned, cut apart, >> [music] >> and reassembled again and again. Now, this may sound grotesque, but notice the pattern. Each punishment is repetitive, cyclical, endless. And this is exactly how suffering works psychologically. You don't just feel pain once. You replay it. You reinforce [music] it. You identify with it. And so the real horror of hell is not the pain itself, but the loop. In Hindu philosophy, this is called Samsara, the wheel of repetition. Hell is simply Samsara intensified. [music] But you see, here's the most surprising idea of all. In some traditions, Yama himself is considered compassionate, even enlightened, which seems absurd. How could torture be compassionate? But think of it this way. If you place your hand in fire and feel pain, is the pain cruel? Or is it informative? Hell, in this sense, is not revenge. It is feedback. It shows you, without illusion, the consequences of unconscious living. And when that lesson is complete, you leave. There are also stories of people who enter hell, not as punishment, but as witnesses. A monk named Mulan travels through hell to find his mother. A Bodhisattva, Ksitigarbha, vows to remain in hell until all beings are freed. And this is profoundly symbolic. Because the awakened being does not avoid suffering. They enter it consciously. They go into darkness, not to escape it, but to illuminate it. And this is perhaps the deepest teaching. You do not transcend hell by running away from it. You transcend [music] it by understanding it. Now, there is also a bit of cultural confusion here. In the West, Buddhism has been romanticized, seen as purely peaceful, purely gentle, free of anything uncomfortable. But this is what scholars call idealization. We project what we want Buddhism to be, rather than what it is. And the truth is, Buddhism is not here to comfort you. It is here to wake you up. And sometimes, waking up is not pleasant. So then, what is hell, really? Is it a place? A state of mind? A metaphor? Well, yes. It is all of these. Because Buddhism does not deal in rigid categories. It deals [music] in experience. Hell is what happens when consciousness becomes trapped in its own patterns. When attention is hijacked by fear, anger, attachment. When awareness collapses into identification. And liberation, Nirvana, is simply the release from that contraction. And so we arrive at the final insight. You are not being judged. You are not being punished. You are participating. In every moment, through your attention, your reactions, your awareness, you are shaping your experience. You are, in a very real sense, creating heaven and hell. Not as a god, but as consciousness itself. Now, the beautiful thing about all of this is that hell is not permanent. It never was. The door is always open. The moment you see through the illusion, the moment you release identification, the moment you become aware, you step out and you realize hell was not a place you were trapped in. It was a dream you were believing.