The Cessation
In the Lord Gotama Buddha's vision, there lies a profound possibility to attain complete extinction of the appearance of phenomena, allowing them to CEASE to manifest. Consequently, the aggregates also cease to appear. However, this disappearance does not lead to nothingness; there exists something in its place. At this specific moment, something real, another phenomenon, another category of phenomena must be present. This is the insight that the Buddha discovered. He realized that when these aggregates cease to appear, an additional element is revealed.
This intricate understanding unfolded beneath the tree, which we refer to as the tree of awakening. It was here that he named this transformative experience "awakening." He witnessed not only the appearing of aggregates but also observed the nature of existence when they cease. Crucially, he recognized that this cessation is not annihilation or nothingness.
To illustrate this, consider the example of a wave that draws back from the shore. The water remains, the sand is still present, and the rocks that formed the beach exist without fail. Yet, the wave itself has vanished. Similarly, think about a fire that is extinguished; while it may have died down, the ashes and stones surrounding it have not ceased to exist.
Let's consider a wave as an illustration. When a wave meets the shore, it appears to vanish; however, the water, sand, and surrounding rocks remain unchanged. This illustrates the nuanced concept of impermanence in the Buddhist tradition. The wave itself has ceased to exist, drawing a contrast with the elements that persist. Similarly, when a fire goes out, the ashes, the stones surrounding it, and the residual heat are all still present. Yet, the fire itself is extinguished—there is no flame remaining. This exemplifies the transition from presence to absence while emphasizing that not everything has disappeared. The surrounding trees and pebbles continue to exist, much like the residual world remains when light is turned off in a room. While visibility may be lost, nothing is truly gone.
Key to understanding nibbāna is recognizing these manifestations of existence. The analogy of waves and fire helps articulate the complex nature of phenomena: while forms may come and go, the fundamental components endure. Such understanding prompts a deeper exploration into nibbāna, which ultimately represents the cessation of attachment, suffering, and ignorance.
As we delve deeper into the concept of nibbāna, it is crucial to acknowledge that it transcends ordinary consciousness. Nibbāna is often described as the ultimate state of liberation where the cycle of birth and rebirth—samsāra—ceases. This cessation is not an act of annihilation but rather a profound transformation of perception. Just as the wave and fire illustrate cessation, so too does nibbāna challenge our understanding of existence itself.
This journey into nibbāna invites us to reconcile the apparent disappearance of phenomena—not just as loss, but as a shift towards a more profound understanding. In this way, nibbāna encourages us to let go of our attachments to transient experiences, allowing for a truer engagement with reality.
Thus, having laid out these foundational ideas, we can now progress to the next step in our understanding, exploring more deeply the nature and implications of nibbāna in the experience of consciousness.
What the Buddha experienced is described as the complete cessation of all forms of perception, including vision, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and notably, all forms of mental consciousness. This comprehensive cessation implies that while some may refer to transcendental consciousness—an elevated state beyond ordinary understanding—Gotama went even further. He achieved a profound observance of not just the fading of cognition, but the very disappearance of consciousness itself.
In this exploration of existence, where discussions often revolve around the concept of a god, he perceived the essence of non-god. Similarly, in conversations about "Buddhahood," he discerned its absence; he recognized its fleeting nature. Pertaining to nirvana, instead of celebrating its presence, he saw the absence of nirvana itself. Furthermore, when faced with ideas of a transcendental state or an ultimate state characterized by omniscience or enlightenment, he observed these perceptions dissolving away.
This cascade of understanding leads us to a crucial question: what, then, remains? The answer lies beyond ordinary expression—beyond the limits of mind and speech. Nevertheless, it is essential to acknowledge that it is something substantive. In fact, the Buddha categorized it within the realm of fundamental elements that constitute this universe.
That which remains lies beyond words, transcending the limits of mind and language. Yet, it is indeed something. The significance of this "something" is profound enough that it is categorized among the things constituting this universe. According to the awakened perspective, this universe comprises four universal elements. These elements are universal in that they manifest everywhere, can be understood by anyone, and are perceptible in every context.
First, there is all material phenomena, commonly referred to as matter. This includes everything that has physical form and substance. Second, we encounter all mental phenomena, encompassing the myriad perceptions, sensations, ideations, and conceptions that shape our experiences. Following these, we acknowledge consciousness itself, which inherently possesses the capacity to recognize and engage with both material and mental phenomena.
Finally, we arrive at the fourth element, which in truth is distinct yet fundamentally a part of this framework. It is a reality that remains unnoticed. Our inability to perceive it stems from our engagement with the sounds we hear, the images we see, and the spiritual, mystical, or transcendental experiences we pursue. Our awareness is largely consumed by material and mental phenomena. Hence, the question arises: what lies beyond this conscious recognition? This is the essence of nibbāna, the state that transcends our ordinary experiences and invites deeper understanding.
The origin of the word nibbāna
As the arising process of the aggregates comes to its conclusion, what persists is the fourth element that the awakened Gotama discovered. He named it nibbāna, rather than using the term nirvana. This choice was deliberate; Gotama opted for a word that his contemporaries did not commonly utilize. While some might attempt to translate nibbāna as the absence of attachment or as a breath that has been interrupted, such interpretations can often lead us astray. It is important to recognize that attempting to translate this word can detract from its significance. Instead, we should embrace the term nibbāna as it is, because it signifies a distinct reality. Acknowledging it as a thing necessitates that we use a specific term to identify it.
We are often told that the state of awakening is unnamable and ineffable, claiming it transcends everything. However, this perspective overlooks a fundamental truth. Buddha never characterized awakening as something transcendental; rather, he stated plainly, "It is one of the four constituents of the universe.” In doing so, he attributed a name to it: nibbāna. Notably, he chose a term familiar from everyday life, which is also used for rice cooling after being cooked or for ashes cooling after a fire has gone out. This highlights the practicality of his teachings, where the common expressions of daily life are employed. For instance, it is said of rice, “Where is the rice? The rice is in nibbāna.”
Thus, in typical fashion, Buddha utilized language from everyday experiences. He deliberately refrained from adopting the specialized terminology of religious elites, such as priests or spiritual masters. Instead, he harnessed the vernacular spoken by the common people: cooks, hunters, butchers, and laborers. This accessibility makes his teachings resonate on a more relatable level.
In his teachings, Buddha elucidated that the universe comprises four fundamental elements:
Consciousness, the faculty of cognizing.
Material and physical properties, which can be known by consciousness.
Mental properties, deserving to be known by consciousness.
nibbāna, parinibbāna.
To elaborate, consciousness, along with mental and physical phenomena, classifies as the five aggregates, which form the basis of our experience.
In fact, when we refer to the "five aggregates", we are simply expressing the same concept in different terms. These aggregates can be categorized in various ways; they might be divided into two main categories: the physical phenomena, which involve material forms, and the mental phenomena, encompassing states of consciousness. Alternatively, we can delineate them into three categories—consciousness, material phenomena, and mental phenomena—or even five when we specify the five aggregates. Some teachings even propose the existence of twenty-eight material properties and fifty-two mental properties, among other classifications. Furthermore, these categories can be subdivided even further, as was commonly done by Buddha's contemporaries. However, all of these classifications ultimately converge into three key elements: consciousness, material phenomena, and mental phenomena.
It is essential to note the concept that exists outside these classifications, which we refer to as nibbāna (or parinibbāna). This state represents a profound realization that was uncovered by the monk Gotama.
Clinging
Every time consciousness arises, it becomes entirely focused on its object; it is fixed and affixed to that object. This phenomenon is known as upadāna, or clinging. To illustrate, consider a childhood memory of throwing a small ball of bread against a glass—just as that ball of bread clings to the glass, so too does consciousness adhere to its object. The mechanism that causes the ball of bread to remain attached to the glass is akin to upadāna in consciousness. For instance, the application of a "sticky note" demonstrates how upadāna enables the note to remain securely attached to a surface.
In the same way, consciousness remains clinging to its object. This process is entirely natural; it is simply the way consciousness operates. Even in the case of someone who has achieved full liberation, like the monk Gotama, the awakened Buddha, consciousness still engages in this clinging behavior when he thinks, speaks, or walks.
In the same way, consciousness stays clinging to its object, a fundamental aspect of its nature. This is entirely natural; it illustrates how consciousness operates. Even for someone fully liberated, like the monk Gotama, the awakened Buddha, consciousness remained engaged with its object in all activities—whether he was speaking, walking, or simply aware. This clinging, referred to as upadāna, signifies a profound power of consciousness. Remarkably, even when the monk Gotama experienced the complete cessation of the five aggregates—form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness itself—consciousness continued to arise.
It is essential to recognize that while nibbāna, the ultimate peace and liberation, represents a distinct and unique object, it remains an object nonetheless. This characteristic allows it to be known by consciousness, reinforcing the continuing relationship between the two. Therefore, although the five aggregates have ceased to arise, consciousness re-emerges immediately after, redirecting itself toward the remaining phenomenon, which in this case is nibbāna itself. In this way, we see how consciousness evolves and transitions, even amid profound transformations. This interplay between consciousness and its objects illustrates the depth of understanding in Buddhist philosophy, ultimately guiding us toward a more profound grasp of liberation and peace.
Thus, although the five aggregates have ceased to arise, consciousness projects itself once again. With the absence of material and mental phenomena to be cognized, consciousness directs itself toward the remaining phenomenon: nibbāna. This is the crucial moment where the Buddha recognized this experience, enabling him to articulate his understanding of nibbāna. If he had merely lost consciousness, it raises the question: how could he assert that he had known nibbāna? Indeed, nibbāna cannot be known while one is unconscious; knowing it requires consciousness. Thus, it can be said that the Buddha saw, knew, and touched nibbāna.
The realization of nibbāna arose once consciousness ceased to cling to those transient objects that continuously appear and disappear. When consciousness stopped grasping at these phenomena, it projected itself toward nibbāna. This experience of clinging to nibbāna was brief, as such clinging cannot be sustained for long, yet in that moment, the Buddha knew nibbāna.
nibbāna is empty
nibbāna is a distinctive object that is palpable, touchable, and cognizable by consciousness. However, its unique characteristic is its invisibility; it does not appear in a conventional sense. As a result, because it does not appear, it also never truly disappears. Furthermore, it is characterized by emptiness—void of content; there is no sound, no smell, no formation, and no external elements present. In essence, nibbāna is empty, but it is crucial to clarify that it isn't to be confused with THE voidness or nothingness. Instead, it is merely empty of everything that is foreign to its intrinsic nature. To illustrate this concept, we can liken nibbāna to an empty room. Upon entering a completely empty room, devoid of people or furniture, one might say, "This room is empty." It is important to note that this doesn't imply that the room is synonymous with EMPTINESS; rather, it is simply an acknowledgment of its current state. The room is empty of the entities—furniture, people—that would typically mark its fullness. Therefore, we assert, "This room is empty," in recognition of what is absent, rather than making a metaphysical claim about emptiness itself. In this way, if there was a chair present, we would no longer state that the room is empty. The absence of these customary items gives rise to the conclusion that the room fulfills the criteria for emptiness. Hence, the emptiness that we observe is contingent upon the absence of those things that ordinarily assert its presence. This leads us to an understanding that nibbāna, like the empty room, is devoid of anything that does not belong to it, further enriching our comprehension of its nature.
Similarly, in the "suññata sutta", the Buddha articulated that "nibbāna is empty" rather than declaring "It is EMPTINESS." His statement simply asserts, "It is empty." This emptiness indicates that nibbāna lacks anything foreign to its nature. However, it is crucial to understand the role of consciousness in this context. This pugnacious, tenacious consciousness possesses an extraordinary power of clinging and attaching itself to anything that manifests within its perceptual field. As a result, it often projects itself onto nibbāna, yet this attachment is fleeting. The nature of nibbāna prevents such projections from enduring; it cannot sustain clinging to nibbāna for long precisely because nibbāna is empty of inherent characteristics.
Nothing arises within nibbāna, nor does nibbāna itself arise. When consciousness attempts to project onto nibbāna, it is akin to skidding or sliding across its surface—brief and unsustainable. This projection cannot persist beyond a few minutes, perhaps extending to a few hours at most. Ultimately, consciousness returns to its "favorite occupations," meaning it resumes the cognitive process of engaging with phenomena—aggregates of experience among which it perceives itself as merely a part. It restarts its recognition of sounds, thoughts, tactile sensations, tastes, colors, and other elements of the world.
The nature of consciousness is intrinsically linked to its journey along a particular channel. This concept, as explicated by the Buddha before his passing, serves as a foundational recipe for understanding. When it follows this channel adeptly, consciousness will inevitably experience the cessation of all physical and mental formations. Subsequently, it will project itself onto nibbāna, remaining there for a period, and then continue its progression.
However, it is crucial to understand that this transition does not happen spontaneously. It arises only as a result of deliberate effort. The monk Gotama exemplified this effort in his teachings, guiding us on how, in our own practices, we can create the conditions necessary for this experience.
As we delve deeper into the essence of this process, we find that for a being who achieves complete liberation, there inevitably comes a pivotal moment—specifically at the time of passing away—when their consciousness will direct itself toward nibbāna. This marks the culmination of life’s journey, leading to a definitive cessation. From that point onward, only nibbāna remains.
For the being who is totally liberated, there is a pivotal moment at the time of passing away when consciousness projects onto nibbāna. This moment signifies the arrival of death, marking a cessation of all consciousness. From this point onward, only nibbāna will remain, free from any residual consciousness. The body, like all corporeal forms, will undergo the familiar process of decomposition, signifying the end of physical life. This phenomenon can be likened to a wave that has vanished on the beach: although the water and sand persist, the wave itself has disappeared. Such a transformation is true for the arahanta, the fully liberated being, including the Buddha. The occurrence at the moment of death represents a definitive cessation—this time, of the arising of the aggregates. Henceforth, consciousness that once took nibbāna as its object will arise no more. Understanding this process allows us to grasp the profound nature of liberation, inviting us to reflect deeply on the teachings surrounding nibbāna in our own practice.
At the end of our path, specifically in our training known as the development of mindfulness, or satipaṭṭhāna, we have the opportunity to experience nibbāna for the first time. This profound experience can be attained within a few weeks, months, or years of dedicated practice. Recognizing this potential is already a remarkable achievement, marking our first encounter with nibbāna after countless lifetimes of wandering through Samsara, the cycle of birth and rebirth. Throughout this journey, we have experienced various roles—sometimes as a student, other times as a teacher, or even as a different form of life. To finally see and attain nibbāna is a significant milestone.
Buddha taught that whoever has glimpsed nibbāna, even if only for a brief moment, has effectively ended all suffering. This initial experience alleviates all anxieties because it sets in motion a natural progression toward lasting liberation. While the fulfillment of this journey may not occur in our current life, it is assured in subsequent lifetimes. In the worst case, as Buddha described, liberation is guaranteed by the seventh rebirth, allowing us to experience nibbāna without residual consciousness. This state of ultimate freedom is known as parinibbāna, representing the culmination of our spiritual journey.
We often envision awakening as a profound spiritual uplifting, an imposing and gigantic state, loftier than anything we can imagine. It can lead us to believe we are too small or insignificant to achieve this experience and that it will take a considerable amount of time. We may think our guru, having reached this state, is far removed from us. However, in truth, nibbāna is readily accessible—it is not a distant goal but rather right at our doorstep. It is akin to any other phenomenon in the world; the only difference is that it does not manifest in the same manner as others do. In fact, it is simply a phenomenon that we have yet to fully recognize or understand. As we explore this idea, we realize that in our world, everything is ultimately a phenomenon. What makes nibbāna unique is its elusive nature, yet it is as real as the more familiar occurrences we experience every day. The Buddha continuously encourages us to pursue this path, emphasizing that rigorous training is essential. It is through disciplined practice that we can hope to attain our final aim—the comprehensive cessation of all dissatisfaction, culminating in nibbāna. To embark on this journey, one does not need to be extraordinarily gifted; even those who merely engage earnestly with the teachings of the Buddha can achieve success. This accessible nature of nibbāna invites us to reconsider our understanding of spiritual accomplishment. Rather than seeing it as an exalted state reserved for a select few, we can approach it as a profound, yet approachable, aspect of our existence. By recognizing that nibbāna is not a far-off dream, but rather a reality that can be experienced through dedication and practice, we open ourselves to a more enriched spiritual life.
Questions and answers on nibbāna
Can one compare nibbāna, which (if properly understood) is a profound phenomenon of consciousness, to the state of deep sleep? In deep sleep, one might assert that nothing occurs, and it appears akin to a state of absolute calm.
This is a common misconception. Some posit that during deep sleep, the mind enters a natural state, which they equate with the state of awakening. However, this perspective is fundamentally flawed. Firstly, in the theravāda tradition, the notion of a state of awakening does not exist. Consequently, nibbāna cannot be regarded as comparable to deep sleep. Secondly, nibbāna is not a state of consciousness in the conventional sense.
Does consciousness experience something specific at this particular stage?
In essence, there exists a particular experience that can be cognized; this experience is likely to be recognized but does not fit within the framework of consciousness as we typically understand it. When consciousness encounters nibbāna, it remains a conditioned and fabricated consciousness. Buddha clearly indicated that this perception is still a construct of the mind.
When consciousness "sees" that experience, is it a kind of tenuous consciousness that has already lost its strength?
It is important to understand that this tenuous consciousness is akin to the state we experience during deep sleep. However, the state of nibbāna differs significantly from that. While both involve a consciousness devoid of tangible objects, the experience of nibbāna is a unique phenomenon recognized by a type of consciousness that closely resembles deep sleep consciousness. Why is this the case? Simply put, in deep sleep, consciousness lacks any sensory perceptions, as all forms of perception are momentarily suspended.
This understanding leads us to an essential realization: when there is no perception, no sensation, the Buddha discusses the concept of cessation, which signifies a state of awakening. This awakening state is particularly subtle and unique, referred to as the life continuum. This type of consciousness is characterized by the absence of tangible objects, encompassing no vision, smell, sound, or thought. However, it is crucial to note that this does not equate to the state of awakening or the mind in its most natural condition.
Likewise, when consciousness grasps nibbāna as its object, it is crucial to note that this grasping does not involve any tangible sensorial perception. Thus, while consciousness can engage with the concept of nibbāna , the nature of this engagement is entirely distinct from physical sensations and perceptions. It is essential to clarify that nibbāna is not the same as the object of consciousness during deep sleep, nor is it the state of consciousness experienced in such a phase. Instead, this state of consciousness is referred to as the life continuum, a type of awareness that certain interpretations, particularly among some Tibetans, may mistakenly equate with an unchanging, eternal, or overly subtle consciousness. However, the Buddha's profound realization revealed otherwise; he recognized that this consciousness, while indeed a particular state of awareness, remains fundamentally a form of consciousness.
Building upon this understanding, we can question whether this field of experience—characterized by the awareness of nibbāna —is consistently present within us or perhaps exists around us in a more subtle form. Furthermore, we may explore the possibility of practicing vipassanā as a means to enhance our perception of this experience. Such practice may allow us to approach this profound state with greater frequency, facilitating a deeper understanding of our consciousness and its relationship to nibbāna .
This experience is not always evident because we are conscious beings. We perceive sounds and sights; hence, what we encounter is not nibbāna. Achieving nibbāna requires dedicated effort; it is not something that is simply present but rather something that may be concealed momentarily. nibbāna is unique and highly specific. What exists in the present moment is solely what you perceive. The notion that we carry within ourselves—that there is something beyond, something transcendental and invisible amid phenomena—is, as described by the monk Gotama, fundamentally misleading. He asserted, "At any given moment, there is nothing other than what you cognize." Within this body, which may seem tall in stature, reside the Four Noble Truths: the Truth of suffering, the Truth of the origin of suffering, the Truth of the cessation of suffering, and the Truth of the path leading to the cessation of suffering. All of this resides within this body and within our perceptions. There is absolutely nothing external or separate from these experiences.
We just can't prevent our mind from conceiving them. This is the way it works. It is often argued that one may find security in adopting an alternative image of reality; in this way, one feels as though they are on the right path. However, the mind cannot simply avoid these conceptions. The interaction of our mental aggregates requires them to react in particular ways, as this is intrinsic to their nature. Consequently, it is crucial not to make hasty judgments about spiritual masters who assert they have attained transcendental states; even they cannot escape such thought patterns. This phenomenon unfolds according to nature, and we inevitably find ourselves believing in these conceptions. This is simply how everything operates.
Even if we cannot avoid conceiving of this unity or essence, it truly exists nowhere beyond our mental constructs. Within the vast realm of our experiences, there is no "exit gateway." According to the Buddha, we experience the world as if it were an enclosed chamber with no escape; there is no exit door, no finger-hole through which light might penetrate.
To clarify this point further, it is necessary to transcend all our conditionings. We must move beyond the consciousness that solidifies our perceptions. Only then can we begin to understand the deeper nature of nibbāna, the ultimate extinguishing of desire and suffering, which is central to Buddhist teaching. This process requires diligent examination and letting go of our attachments.
It's impossible! How? Think of it this way: getting into your car and attempting to leave the world is futile. No matter where you drive, you remain on the Earth's surface, as this is a sphere! Even if you take a boat and set off on an adventure toward a new paradise, you will always find yourself on Earth. Similarly, you cannot escape your conditionings. The notion of transcending them is merely an illusion, a phantasm.
When I speak of leaving these conditionings through specific disciplines, it raises an important question: can one truly eliminate all conditionings? What are these disciplines if not the very conditionings at work that shape our perceptions?
Yet, if we consider practices like vipassanā—a form of insight meditation—or any method aimed at reaching or touching nibbāna, one might argue that we can indeed leave our enclosed chamber! I apologize for my stubbornness, but this perspective deserves attention.
You're right to point that out. Vipassanā, or more precisely satipaṭṭhāna—the practice of establishing mindfulness—is the only approach that effectively leads to the complete cessation of this mechanism of suffering.
This brings us to a fundamental inquiry: is there really a way? The monk Gotama discovered just that; he proclaimed, "There really is a way." This assertion is the cornerstone of his teaching.
The way that the Buddha originally taught, which we continue to promote in the theravāda tradition, is not specifically the pursuit of bliss, divinity, or the essence of existence, even though he acknowledged that such states could be attained. He explicitly encouraged his disciples to strive for these supramundane attainments. However, he cautioned, "Beware, this is not the ultimate goal." Engaging in these practices is indeed beneficial, yielding significant virtues and advantages, yet he urged practitioners to transcend this initial level. Oftentimes, priests, masters, and gurus from various religions, in the best cases, become complacent with their achievements, mistakenly believing they have reached the ultimate aim. This assumption, however, is quite unlikely. Many merely echo what they learned from childhood, often holding a belief deeply ingrained in them: that they are reincarnations of awakened beings, claiming to have attained enlightenment in a former life. Additionally, some adopt the perspective that no effort is necessary, asserting that all is present, spontaneous, and inherently aligned with the nature of awakening; even the act of a dog defecating may be seen as Buddha-like behavior. At times, one may even convince oneself, "This is it, I have entered the 'dance', I have attained enlightenment!"
As we navigate the path toward nibbāna, does one learn to cultivate greater love? Discussions often revolve around development, realization, accomplishment, and inner blossoming, yet the notion of love—especially unconditional love—is paramount in life, particularly in our desire to help others. Thus, along this journey, we foster a love that is not contingent upon conditions...
This is precisely the point interesting us here. It is essential to clarify that the journey towards nibbāna is not merely a personal quest. In failing to recognize this, one might think, "I am in my little nibbāna, I am self-contented," and may even view death in a discouragingly self-destructive way.
Such perceptions should not be held. Some people comment about the members of the theravāda, saying, "They are in their little corner, doing their own thing." This confusion often arises from certain monks who, while striving to follow the Buddha's teachings, reduced those teachings to personal interpretations, which may lead to misunderstanding. The Buddha emphasized the individual nature of the spiritual journey by stating: "You are alone; only you yourself can attain it; nobody can do it for you."
In this context, some individuals rationalize, saying: "Let's become monks; it is a better path because it offers greater purity. We will don the robes, while laypeople, still burdened with attachments, support us as we meditate and strive for awakening. Consequently, good karma will accumulate for them, possibly allowing them to become monks in their next lives." Unquestionably, such egoistic tendencies exist among these individuals. From the very beginning, they distort the essence of the Buddha's teachings.
Thus, it is important to underscore that the teachings encompass much more than individual attainment. A legitimate step forward requires acknowledging that the Buddha also taught compassion, benevolence, and universal love. For these adherents, the focus on a narrow interpretation leads to a stagnant and arid perception of what it means to seek "pure wisdom" or "instant nibbāna." Instead, a deeper understanding calls for a richer, more compassionate engagement with the teachings.
Therefore, some took a legitimate step by saying: "But wait! Buddha also taught compassion, benevolence, and universal love. Yet, you remain at a complete deadlock up there, trapped in a dry, arid vision characterized by 'pure wisdom' and 'instant nibbāna'
