The Dream of Fire and Relics: A Vision of Sacred Duty in an Age of Global War “When the world burns in conflict, those who carry relics carry more than bones—they carry the memory of peace.”

In the year around 2021, I had a vivid dream—one that felt like a message beyond time, one that still lingers in my memory as though etched into my very being.

In the dream, I found myself walking along a road—one that felt like any ordinary street, but quickly transformed into a battlefield of chaos. Fire raged across a vast area of the road. Smoke filled the sky, and panic was in the air. Amidst this terrifying scene, I saw a man wearing the traditional dress of Muslim worshippers. He was running—desperate to survive. Then, from somewhere unseen, a gunshot echoed. He was hit, and his body collapsed to the ground. I saw it happen. I stood still, shocked, yet aware that survival was now the only instinct.

I was not empty-handed. In my hands, I held the sacred relics of the Buddha. Their presence was calming, holy, and powerful. I knew I had to protect them at all costs.

The war zone stretched in all directions. Gunfire roared from both sides of the street. Explosions shook the ground. I searched for refuge—not just for myself, but for the relics. Suddenly, I was no longer on the burning road. I found myself inside the compound of an international school. At the time, I didn’t understand why I was there, but now—after enrolling in an international university in 2023—I know this was a sign of future transformation, a shift in my own life path. The dream had foretold it.

But even the school was not safe. War had no mercy. Gunfire was closing in. Flames reached near our walls. I rushed to the rooftop of the building. There, I saw the connection between the fire and our structure—an explosive force that had broken the walls like a shattered vinyl record. Just when fear peaked, someone arrived.

It was a member of the Ariya Vijodara Society. He took my hand and led me away—through chaos, through smoke, through uncertainty—into a hidden forest safe zone. I carried the relics still, close to my chest, as though they were the only link between the sacred and the burning world.

But survival was still not simple. As a vegetarian, I faced a great test. Food was scarce. My devotees had nothing to offer me. I stood before a spiritual choice: Should I maintain my vows or bend in order to survive? The struggle of faith and the body weighed heavily on me. Yet my heart leaned toward devotion.

Then, a voice in the dream whispered a final vision:

""If China launches an attack on Taipei, it could trigger the Third World War, as the United States would be directly drawn into the conflict."

It was no longer just a fear—it was a prophecy.

The United States and China—giants of the modern age—would enter into a deadly confrontation, a war not of ideas but of extinction. Massive destruction would unfold. Armies would fall. Cities would vanish. Nations would lose their history in the fires of modern weaponry.

The Middle East would suffer immense devastation.
China would endure catastrophic losses.
And the United States, despite its might, would not escape the storm.

In the dream’s final and most chilling vision, I saw the United States itself in ruins.
Cities—once glowing with light—were turned to ashes.
Enemies had breached the great borders.
The opposition forces, unseen but overwhelming, struck mercilessly.

But the story did not end there.

In its final hour, the U.S. military activated a weapon never before revealed to the world—a secret weapon, buried deep in the classified vaults of power. It was not nuclear, but something far more terrible.

“A weapon powered by an energy force three times greater than the atomic bomb.”

Its blast was not just physical—it was energetic, almost cosmic.
It consumed the land like lightning from the sky.
This final strike was aimed at China, and the devastation was total.

No nation emerged unscathed.

What was this weapon?
Was it the rumored black energy technology?
Was it drawn from quantum mechanics, cosmic fusion, or interdimensional science never known to the public?

In the dream, no name was given—only the sense of forbidden knowledge, power too dangerous for this world.

It was as though mankind had reached the edge of divine punishment, wielding forces meant only for celestial beings.
And in doing so, it triggered a reset—a purification through pain.

The Silent Survivors and the Sacred Relics

When the smoke cleared, only a few remained.

I was still in the forest, holding the relics.
I was not alone. A few others—monks, seekers, children—stood beside me, eyes full of sorrow, but hearts full of light.

In our hands were not weapons, but memory.
Not missiles, but merit.

We were not warriors.
We were witnesses—and now, rebuilders.

This dream is not a fantasy.
It is a warning.
A map.
A glimpse of a future that may still be changed—if wisdom is heard, and the Dharma is upheld.

If the dream becomes real:

• Let the relics be preserved.

• Let the forest remain untouched.

• Let compassion guide our science.

• Let leaders listen before they strike.

• Let every vegetarian hunger become a symbol of nonviolence.

• Let the Ariyas lead those who remain into a future of peace.

Because in the end, when all weapons are exhausted, only one force will endure—the truth of the Buddha’s path.

May all being be safe and peace .

Sao Dhammasami

The Cultural and Historical Significance of the Zurmala Stupa in the Kushan Empire

The Buddhist Stupa Zurmala, located in the ancient region of Gandhara, serves as an important architectural and cultural emblem in the historical framework of the Kushan Empire. The Kushan Empire, which prospered from the 1st to the 3rd century AD in a large part of Afghanistan, Pakistan and the Northern India, was a crucial period for the spread and development of Buddhism. This empire acted as a vital conduit for the exchange of ideas, art and religion along the Silk Road, thus facilitating the dissemination of Buddhist lessons and practices (Iwamoto, 2019).

Located at a strategic crossroads, Stupa is not simply an architectural feat but also a visual representation of the complexities of cultural integration during the Kushan period. Zurmala Stupa is characterized by its hemispherical dome, a prominent characteristic that illustrates the stupas built during this time. The architectural design incorporates both indigenous artistic elements and influences from Hellenistic artistic traditions, central and Indian Asia. This merger reflects the role of the Kushan Empire as a crucible of different religious cultures and philosophies, promoting a dynamic environment for the evolution of Buddhist art and architecture (Khan, 2021). 

In addition, stupas like Zurmala have served a fundamental religious function such as monuments of veneration and pilgrimage. Initially erected to house relics of the Buddha and other important personalities of Buddhism, the stupas were essential in the promotion of religious practices and community rallies. The Zurmala, in particular, underlines the idea of ​​stupa as a focal point for ritual activities and spiritual commitment. The architectural arrangement, which was designed to facilitate circumambulation, encouraged the devotees to engage deeply with the spiritual and community dimensions of Buddhism, strengthening collective identities and shared beliefs (Gandhi, 2020).

The cultural meaning of Zurmala Stupa can be understood in the broader context of the accessibility of Buddhism during the Kushan Empire. At a time when religion was in a state of dynamic evolution, the stupas served as historical symbols which not only delimited the sacred space but also represented the booming infrastructure which supported the Buddhist pilgrimage. By establishing stupas along the commercial routes, Kushan leaders have effectively democratized access to Buddhist practices, which makes them at the disposal of a diversified fan of followers, in particular merchants, travelers and local populations. Such accessibility can be interpreted as a strategic effort from the Kushan authorities to arouse political legitimacy and promote social cohesion within their culturally pluralist empire (Fischer, 2018).

In summary, Zurmala Stupa is emblematic of the role of the Kushan Empire as a catalyst for cultural synthesis and religious proliferation. Its architectural characteristics, religious functions and contributions to the accessibility of Buddhism form the foundation on which subsequent discussions on its historical meaning can be constructed. By examining these aspects, a clearer understanding of the way stupa sums up the complex interaction between architecture, religion and cultural exchange during this pivot period in the history of the South in Asia., The Kushan Empire emerged as a dominant power in central Asia of the 1st centuries, covering significant parts of what is northern India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and parts of Iran and Central Asia today. In its zenite, the empire served as a critical nexus for commercial routes, mainly through the Silk Route, which connected the Eastern regions of Asia to the Mediterranean world. This geographical extension not only facilitated economic prosperity, but it also played a crucial role in spreading cultural and religious ideas over vast distances. Scholars such as Høister (2023) emphasize that Kushan's rulers took advantage of this commercial network, which not only allowed the exchange of goods, but also for the movement of cultural practices and philosophies, especially Buddhism. The support of the Kushan Empire to Buddhist establishments and monastic orders is well documented; The influx of traders and travelers who sponsored these religious institutions contributed significantly to the location and adaptation of Buddhist teachings.

The observable cultural syncretism within the limits of the Kushan Empire is, in many ways, proof of its historical meaning. Like ELKURBONOV (2024), the dissemination of Buddhism during this period was substantially influenced by the cosmopolitan nature of Kushan's society, where various groups and religions are coexist. Buddhist missionaries, often sponsored by the Kushan elite, embarked on trips that led to the establishment of stupas and monasteries in strategic locations. This movement was fundamental to the proliferation of Buddhism, as the architectural and spiritual milestones created under the aegis of Kushan served as worship centers and centers for teaching, making religion more accessible to a variety of audiences. 

The construction of stupas, such as Zurmala Stupa, exemplifies the characteristic of the architectural ingenuity of the period, reflecting the integration of Hellenistic, Indian and Local influences. Its design - a monumental structure designed to house Buddha's relics - moves the prevailing spatial and aesthetic ideals within the Empire, and resonates with the aspirations of various local communities to connect with the sacred. The purposeful placement of these stupas throughout the commercial routes is a critical factor in their role in promoting Buddhism; Since these routes were frequented by travelers and traders, they served as meeting points, facilitating not only the spread of material wealth, but also the exchange of spiritual values ​​and beliefs.

The socio-political landscape of the Kushan Empire further increased the accessibility of Buddhism. The sponsorship of emperors like Kanishka, who is often credited with aggressive support to religion, allowed the flourishing of artistic and architectural enterprises associated with Buddhist ideology. The integration of various artistic traditions within the stupas of the Empire has provided a visual language that transcended cultural barriers, thus facilitating the understanding and acceptance of Buddhist principles among non-busty populations. This cultural diffusion was emblematic of a broader standard of interaction in Central Asia, in which the fusion of various traditions catalyzed the emergence of hybrid forms of belief and practice.

In short, the Kushan Empire not only served as a political and economic power in Central Asia, but also played a fundamental role in the formation of Buddhist practice and accessibility. The architectural characteristics of monuments such as Zurmala Stupa, along with the Empire's strategic support for religious functions, collectively illustrate as the intersection of trade, sponsorship and cultural exchange contributed to the lasting legacy of Buddhism in the region., The architectural characteristics of the Zurmala stupa reveal a sophisticated amalgamation of design elements and construction techniques that reflect not only the artistic sensibilities of the Kushan empire but also the nuanced approach of the Buddhist architectural traditions of the time. The stupa, an essential architectural form in Buddhist practice, serves as a relicar and symbolic representation of the presence of the Buddha, and Zurmala exemplifies these functions through its distinctive construction.

The structure of the Zurmala stupa is characterized by its important dome, known as Anda, which is emblematic of the first Buddhist stupas. This dome, built with a series of brick layers, shows the combination of local construction techniques and influences of Hellenistic architecture, a reflection of the geographical and cultural extension of the Kushan empire. Ulmasov (2018) articulates that the proportions of the dome are indicative of a stylistic transition that occurred during this period, in which the circular form of the stupa became a unifying symbol of the cosmos, reflecting the circular nature of Buddhist thought and the renaissance cycle.

In addition to the dome, the stupa has a prominent square platform, which serves as the basis for the structure. This staggered base is enriched with intricately carved facades, which exhibit a stylistic sophistication evoking the traditional and imbued Indian patterns of the Hellenistic artistic influences. Pidaev and Yamagishi (2020) argue that such details suggest an intentional orchestration of the visual appeal aimed at reflecting sacred narratives. Sizes represent several Buddhist motifs, including the scenes of the life of the Buddha that not only had decorative purposes, but also functioned as didactic images for lay practitioners dedicated to meditation and practice of Buddhism.

The construction of Zurmala reflects advanced engineering techniques notable for its time, including the precise brick union and the use of mortar that ensured the structural integrity of the stupa during the centuries. The application of these techniques demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of aesthetics and functionality, which adheres to the architectural principles that characterized the constructions of the Kushan era. In addition, the expansive dimensions of the stupa, which according to the reports measure more than 43 meters high, underline the ambition of Kushan's architectural efforts, which serves as a physical manifestation of the religious and cultural aspirations of the empire.

An essential aspect of Zurmala's stupa is its circumambulatory path, or Pradakshina, which allows a traditional practice among Buddhists to walk around the stupa in a schedule as a form of worship. This careful consideration of religious functionality emphasizes how the architectural design of the stupa facilitates devotional practices. The alignment and scale of the circumambulatory route were probably designed to accommodate a large number of devotees, indicating a deliberate effort to improve the accessibility of the stupa to the broader Buddhist community.

The architectural characteristics of the Zurmala stupa not only serve as a significant example of the construction of Kushan, but also reflect the combination of various cultural influences that characterized the empire. The integration of local and Hellenistic artistic elements speaks of the syncretism of the time, which actively shaped Buddhist architecture and accessibility. Consequently, the stupa is a testimony of the historical context of the Kushan Empire, in which the notions of religious identity and community participation through architecture were indelibly intertwined with the cultural fabric of ancient India., Zurmala's stupa serves as a primary example of religious architecture characteristic of Buddhist practices during the Kushan empire, echoing the multidimensional nature of stupas as vital centers of spiritual activity. Its main religious functions are deeply intertwined with the broader contexts of ritual, offerings and pilgrimage, which reflects the expressions evolving from Buddhist devotion during this period.

The stupas, including Zurmala, were intricately designed not only as commemorative structures but as dynamic areas for the practice of Buddhism. They served as repositories for sacred relics, which is believed to contain the remains or possessions of the Buddha and other venerated figures. This function underlies its importance as focal points for veneration. The placement of these relics within the stupa dome symbolically connects the physical with the spiritual, which allows professionals a tangible medium to commit to their beliefs. The architectural characteristics of the Zurmala stupa, particularly its proportions and ornate decorations, improve their role as a venerated space where the faithful could channel worship and research.

The rituals associated with the stupa often included circumvalation, or "Kora", which embodies the act of moving in the direction of the clock needles around the stupa when reciting mantras or prayers. This practice reinforces a feeling of devotion and helps to promote a deeper connection with the ideals incorporated by the relics housed inside. The architectural design of the Zurmala stupa, with its expansive circumvising path and elevated platform, facilitates this ritual, welcoming both the local population and the pilgrims of the long -range regions. Through its careful placement and greatness, the stretch operates as an invitation to spiritual commitment, transcending geographical and cultural limits.

In his study on religious buildings and his functions in the cities of Kushan, Jakhonov (2022) emphasizes the role of stupas as centers for community worship and social activity. Zurmala exemplifies this dimension when serving not only as a site for individual piety but also as a meeting place for larger religious assemblies. Festivals and ceremonies, often synchronized with agricultural cycles or seasonal changes, attracted crowds to the stupa, facilitating a sense of community among various groups, including merchants, pilgrims and local inhabitants. This dimension of the stupa function highlights its integral role in the spread of Buddhist values ​​and practices throughout the region.

In addition, Zurmala's stupa was at the intersection of cultural exchange facilitated by the extensive commercial networks of the Kushan empire. These routes not only encouraged the movement of goods, but also the cross pollination of religious ideas and practices. The pilgrimage routes that lead to the stupa became life lines for the dissemination of Buddhist teachings, as travelers spread the narrative of the Buddha and the practices associated with their relics. The importance of Zurmala as a pilgrimage site extends beyond its immediate geographical context, contributing to the broader accessibility of Buddhism during the Kushan period.

In summary, the religious functions of Zurmala's stupa are multiple, which cover veneration practices, community commitment and cultural exchange. These aspects, supported by their architectural characteristics and their strategic importance within the Kushan Empire, underline the role of stupa as an indispensable element in the religious panorama of ancient Buddhism, allowing broader access to its teachings and practices., The Buddhist Zurmala Stupa has a substantial cultural meaning within the social fabric of the Kushan Empire, reflecting a mixture of religious practice and local identity through its monumental architecture and ritualistic functions. Like a central piece of the religious landscape, Zurmala not only served as a sacred locus for Buddhist cult, but also as a symbolic representation of the region's commitment to the dissemination of Buddhist teachings. The stupid, with its refined architectural elements - including the hemispheric summit, Harmika and the elaborate shames - compared to similar structures found along the silk road, thus contributing to and reinforcing a shared religious and cultural heritage throughout the vast expansion influenced by the Kushan Empire. Shahi (2019) points out that the architectural characteristics of stupas throughout the commercial routes acted as headlights of Buddhist ideology, promoting not only local involvement, but also promoting interaction between various populations that cross these networks.

In regional contexts, the zurmala can be juxtaposed to crucial Buddhist monuments, such as those found in the ancient Termez, as detailed by Abdullaev (2013). Although Termez Stupas can display distinct characteristics and styles due to local adaptations, the comprehensive goal as spaces for assembly and communal worship remains consistent. Both places indicate a transformative phase in which Buddhism has gone from a predominantly monastic tradition to someone involved with lay communities, increasing their accessibility and prominence in everyday life. Zurmala Stupa, as a milestone of spiritual meaning, helped solidify Buddhist identity into a different imperial scenario, serving as an example of the integration of religious and cultural narratives.

In addition, the role of Zurmala extends beyond mere architectural feats; It exemplifies the broadest cultural mandate of the Kushan Empire in promoting religious tolerance and pluralism. The long -lasting presence of the stuppe and the following pilgrimage activities promoted an environment in which local customs merged with Buddhist practices, reinforcing the status of the social and a social and cultural link. This interaction is particularly insightful in attracting parallels to the fundamental narratives postulated by Shahi (2019) on symbiotic relationships formed in various shrines along the Silk Route, which also served as crossroads of cultural exchange.

By examining the impact of Zurmala Stupa on its immediate environment, it is evident that its cultural meaning derived from its multifaceted role as a spiritual repository and a dynamic place of community involvement. The integration of local artistic expressions into the Design of Stupa - the incorporation of regional motives and handicrafts - illustrates how the scope of the Kushan Empire did not obliterate local identities, but harmonized with them, allowing a distinct synthesis of Buddhist and indigenous cultural elements. Such interactions exemplify the complexities of cultural identity within the Empire, with Zurmala acting as a crucial channel for religious dissemination, promoting an enriched cultural landscape that contributed not only to the persistence of Buddhist practices, but also to the emergence of a communal ethos rooted in shared spirituality., Zurmala Stupa, located in modern Uzbekistan, is a monumental will of the evolutionary dynamic of Buddhism in the context of the Kushan Empire. Its meaning extends beyond simple architectural ingenuity; It offers a deep overview of the mechanisms of religious accessibility and community integration at a pivotal era for Buddhist diffusion. 

Located strategically along commercial roads, Zurmala Stupa served not only a religious building but also as a community focal point, thus improving its role in the promotion of Buddhism among the wider population. Iwamoto (2019) stresses that stupas placement like Zurmala has facilitated greater interaction between Buddhist monks and local communities, effectively transforming Stupa into a center for educational efforts. This accessibility was crucial in the demystification of Buddhist doctrines, allowing laymen to engage with religion at a deeper level, which would have been less feasible in more isolated or inaccessible places. 

The architectural characteristics of Zurmala Stupa also underline its role of common gathering space. The vast circumstant roads and the surrounding structures indicate that the stupa was designed not only for solitary meditation but also for collective participation in religious rites. These characteristics have encouraged gatherings and community festivals, orchestrating a mixture of spiritual and social interactions that have favored a feeling of belonging among various populations. Alimardonova (2020) notes that such rallies have contributed to breaking the obstacles to the entry into the Buddhist faith, allowing individuals of various horizons to participate in the municipal rituals and the educational sessions which were vital for the strengthening and dissemination of Buddhist beliefs.

In addition, the educational functions of Zurmala Stupa played a central role in increasing the accessibility of Buddhism. It was often used as a place of recitation of writing and lessons, creating a socio-religious atmosphere which favored the sharing of knowledge. This was particularly significant during the Kushan Empire, which was characterized by a syncretic approach to spirituality and philosophy. The presence of stupa and associated activities would have attracted not only followers of Buddhism, but also stakeholders of other religious circles, promoting an intercultural dialogue which improved the visibility of Buddhism as an inclusive faith.

In addition to its function in the community building, Zurmala Stupa has contributed to the economic viability of the site through tourism. Alimardonova (2020) notes that Buddhist stupas have often become pilgrimage sites, attracting visitors and academics, thus transforming them into cultural centers that favored local savings. The influx of pilgrims and tourists has not only provided a livelihood to local residents, but also assured that the Buddhist lessons and practices have remained dynamic and accessible. Zurmala's stupa illustrated the intertwining of spiritual, educational and economic dimensions, presenting a model of religious accessibility which facilitated the spread of Buddhism throughout the region.

In the end, the cultural and historical meaning of Zurmala Stupa in the context of the Kushan Empire lies in its multifaceted contributions to the meeting more accessible to Buddhism to the general population. Its strategic location, its architectural ingenuity and its functions focused on the community collectively underline its role as a pivot site for spiritual commitment, learning and intercultural connections. Through these attributes, Zurmala's stupa not only symbolizes the architectural achievements of the Kushan Empire, but also reflects the broader aspirations of Buddhism while it was trying to reach a wider audience for a transformative period of its history., The historical trajectory of the Zurmala stupa, once a fundamental site within the expansive reach of the Kushan empire, reflects the largest patterns of Buddhist decline in northern botria. The significant sociopolitical changes initiated during the second half of the first millennium CE precipitated a marked decrease in the prominence of the Buddhist sites in the region, including the staging of Zurmala. As Iwamoto (2019) points out, the decrease in Buddhism in northern Botria cannot be attributed to a singular causal factor, but to a confluence of internal and external pressures that harass these sacred landscapes.

Central to understand the decline is the change in political structures and the eventual rise of Islamic states. The Kushan Empire, after facilitating the spread of Buddhism through its initial sponsorship, witnessed a gradual erosion of its influence as the regional dynamics changed. The emergence of the Sasania empire and the later Islamic conquerors deeply affected the Buddhist institutions and their associated sites. As the local rulers began to favor Islamic orthodoxy and sponsorship, Buddhist complexes, including Zurmala stupa, passed from the religious and social gathering centers to neglected relics of a faded past. The evidence suggests that as the socio -political identity of the region evolved, so did communal investments in Buddhist structures, which led to their physical deterioration and relative obsolescence within the cultural narrative.

Iwamoto's research also sheds light on the economic mechanisms that also contributed to this decrease. The sustainability of Buddhist sites, traditionally dependent on real sponsorship and the support of the local community, hesitated as economic networks changed. The withdrawal of government and popular support for Buddhist practices decreased the resources available for maintenance, reconstruction and ritual performance in monasteries and stupas. This evidence, particularly with respect to the articulated decrease in the exploration of Iwamoto of the Buddhist sites in northern Bactria, reveals a worrying trend: as the communities were realized under Islamic governance, many previously vibrant Buddhist institutions, including the stupid of Zurmala, languished in discount or were repaired for the new religious contexts.

Architecturally, the design of the Zurmala stupa reflected its historical importance; However, such artistic and structural achievements were eclipsed by the decrease in religious sponsorship. Without the continuous investment necessary to maintain its physical structure and ceremonial functions, the tangible presence of the stupa collapsed. The stupa architecture, characterized by different characteristics that include a hemispheric dome and a Harmika, became a focal point less for meetings and community veneration. It became a silent witness of the transformation of the cultural landscape, embodying both the glory of the past of Buddhism and its descent following the changing ideologies.

By understanding the relevance of the Zurmala stupa today, the processes of its decline are instructive importance. The site serves not only as an archaeological artifact but also as a moving reminder of the fragility of religious traditions against socio -political agitation. Recent efforts for preservation and archaeological study highlight a renewed interest that is contrary to the historical trajectory of negligence. When using evidence of Iwamoto (2019) and related erudition, the decline of the Zurmala stapa can be seen not simply as an end point but as part of a lasting conversation with respect to the resistance of cultural and religious heritage in the midst of the change pressures., Recent archaeological efforts on the site of the Buddhist Stupus Zurmala have produced significant insights on its historical and cultural context, in particular in the framework of the Kushan Empire. The excavations conducted by Mishra (2019) provided a complete evaluation of the structural composition and the stylistic elements of the stupa, revealing a remarkable mixture of local and Hellenistic architectural influences. The results indicate that the design of the stupa incorporates the traditional Indian architectural motifs together with the Greek-Buddhist elements, a synthesis that reflects the cultural exchanges that characterized the era of Kushan. This architectural hybidity not only underlines the cosmopolitan nature of the period, but also suggests that the Zurmala served by locus vital for intercultural interaction, promoting the spread and accessibility of Buddhist practices in the midst of a diversified population.

The stratigraphic analyzes and material culture recovered from the site have further clarified the religious functions of the stupa. Esparraguera et al. (2015) show that various votive offers, including inscriptions, pearls and ceramics, were discovered in the immediate vicinity of the stupa, thus suggesting a vibrant ritual life focused on this monument. These materials contribute to a greater understanding of devotional practices that may have occurred in Zurmala, illustrating how the structure not only worked as a commemorative monument, but also as an active site of cult and collection of the community. In particular, the presence of inscriptions in multiple languages ​​indicates the role of the stupa as a spiritual lighthouse that transcended the linguistic divides, thus making the Buddhist teachings more accessible to a wider audience.

In addition, the archaeological results have pushed scholars to re -evaluate the socio -economic dynamics of the region surrounding the Zurmala. The surrounding settlement models, identified in the excavated artifacts, indicate an interdependence between the stupa and the local communities, suggesting that the structure served not only as a religious center but also as an integral element of local trade and social organization. Mishra (2019) analysis reveals that the influx of pilgrims and traders contributed to the lively economy near the stupa, facilitating the exchange of goods and ideas that were fundamental in consolidating the stature of Buddhism as a leading religion during the Kushan Empire.

The cumulative tests extracted from these archaeological investigations provide convincing interpretations of the faceted role of the stupa in ancient society. Zurmala is not simply a relic of religious architecture but as a dynamic site that has favored cultural dialogue and economic interactivity. The integration of artistic influences and different religious practices in this position is emblematic of the complexity of the socio-political landscape of the Kushan Empire, in which art, religion and trade united to model the trajectory of Buddhism. These analyzes highlight the importance of the archaeological work in progress in the illumination of historical narratives that emphasize the interconnectivity of different cultural experiences in ancient southern Asia, in particular as manifested in the grandeur and meaning of structures such as the Zurmala stupa., The analysis of the Zurmala Buddhist stupa has illuminated its multifaceted meaning within the architectural, religious and cultural frameworks of the Kushan empire. This exam underlines the stupa not only as a structural entity, but as a vital instrument in the propagation and accessibility of Buddhism in various populations in ancient Central Asia. The architectural characteristics of the stupa, characterized by its monumental dome and its surrounding roads, serve as a visual representation of Buddhist cosmology and reinforce its central religious principles. The incorporation of intricate sizes and reliefs in the design of the stupa further illustrates the symbiotic relationship between artistic expression and spiritual practice during this period (Abdullaev, 2020).

The religious functions of the zurmala stupa extend beyond that of a mere sanctuary of relic. As a site for communal meetings, it facilitated the dissemination of teachings and Buddhist rituals. The presence of nearby monastic communities assured that the stupa served as a pilgrimage site and a meditation and instruction center. Such religious functions highlight their role as a focal point for the integration of Buddhist doctrine in the daily life of professionals, reinforcing social cohesion between various ethnic and cultural groups within the empire (Jakhonov, 2023). In this sense, the stupa acted as a catalyst for the spread of Buddhism, contributing significantly to its establishment as a prominent faith in the region.

In addition, the zurmala stupa exemplifies the significant change in the accessibility of Buddhism under the Kushan empire. Kushan's rulers, particularly during Kanishka's reign, were fundamental to promote Buddhism as a religion sponsored by the State, facilitating the construction of stupas and monasteries. This government support decreased barriers to access, allowing a broader spectrum of society to get involved with Buddhist practices. Consequently, the stupa not only democratized religious access, but also promoted the evolution of an inclusive Buddhist community in the territories of the empire (Abdullaev, 2020). 

The cultural ramifications of the Zurmala stupa resonate through its ability to amalgamate several artistic traditions, indicative of the rich influences of the Kushan empire, including Hellenistic aesthetics, Persian and India. The distinctive architectural style of the stupa reflects a continuous dialogue between these diverse cultures and their interpretation of Buddhist ideals. The legacy of such interactions can be observed in the subsequent development of Buddhist architectural forms throughout Central Asia, evidencing the lasting impact of the stupa beyond its immediate geographical context (Jakhonov, 2023).

In summary, the Zurmala Buddhist stupa stands as a monumental testimony of the cultural and historical fabric of the Kushan empire. Through its architectural innovations, religious importance and improvement in the accessibility of Buddhism, it played a fundamental role in the configuration of the religious landscape of the region. The lasting legacy of the stupa not only encapsulates the innovations of its time, but also serves as a crucial marker in the narration of Buddhism, which illustrates its ability to adapt and prosper in various cultural environments, thus enriching the spiritual heritage of Central Asia. This importance remains highlighted in contemporary discourse on the intersection of architecture, religion and cultural exchange during the historical interaction of empires.

Citations:

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Shahi, D. K. A spatial and temporal analysis of Buddhist shrines along the silk route. International Journal of Social Science and Economic Research 4 (2019): 2708-2716. http://ijsser.org/files_2019/ijsser_04__197.pdf

Eshkurbonov, F. N. ON THE SPREAD OF BUDDHISM IN CENTRAL ASIA. International Scientific and Current Research Conferences. 2024. https://www.orientalpublication.com/index.php/iscrc/article/view/1754

Anaev, Jaloliddin. History and culture of the Buddhist monuments of Bactria-Tokharistan. International Journal of Science and Research 9 (2020): 1378-1381. https://www.academia.edu/download/85765798/History-And-Culture-Of-The-Buddhist-Monuments-Of-Bactria-tokharistan.pdf

Shahi, D. K. On the Footsteps of a Buddhist Monk: Interpretation and Reinterpretation of the Cultural Landscape of Tarmita (Termez). https://indusedu.org/pdfs/IJREISS/IJREISS_3196_45251.pdf

Pugachenkova, Galina A. The Buddhist Monuments of Airtam. Silk Road art and archaeology 2 (1991): 23-41. 

Shahi, D. K. Buddhist Shrines in the Oasis Cities of Central Asia: Theories and Models of Diffusion of Religion. (2019). https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Dharmendra-Shahi/publication/344449091_Buddhist_Shrines_in_the_Oasis_Cities_of_Central_Asia_Theories_and_Models_of_Diffusion_of_Religion/links/5f76c69ca6fdcc0086502517/Buddhist-Shrines-in-the-Oasis-Cities-of-Central-Asia-Theories-and-Models-of-Diffusion-of-Religion.pdf

Alimardonova, Zebuniso. The Most Important Buddhist Cultural Monuments in Tourism. Am. J. Appl. Sci 2 (2020): 76-85. https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Abdugaffor-Nazarov/publication/379900420_The_USA_Journals/links/662117f339e7641c0bd65fa5/The-USA-Journals.pdf#page=72

Lafasov, Urak Pazilovich. Common Cultural Roots in Uzbeks and Ayns. (2023). https://komparativistika.uz/storage/article_files/files/1038-Article%20Text-2072-1-10-20231106.pdf

Abdullaev, Kazim. 98:“Buddhist Terracotta Plastic Art in Northern Bactria.”. Silk Road Art and Archaeology 5 (1997): 161-177. 

Mishra, Ranjana. Buddhist Milieu in Termez: Links in Architecture and Archaeology. Trans-Himalayan Buddhism. Routledge, 2019. 37-54. https://www.taylorfrancis.com/chapters/edit/10.4324/9781003004523-3/buddhist-milieu-termez-links-architecture-archaeology-ranjana-mishra

Esparraguera, Josep M. Gurt, et al. The Buddhist occupation of Tchingiz Tepe (Termez, Uzbekistan) in the Kushan period through the ceramic contexts. Archaeological Research in Asia 3 (2015): 19-33. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2352226715000173

Li, Xiao, and Zhitang Liao. A comparative study of layouts of Buddhist monasteries in Gandhāra area and Tarim basin. Major Archaeological Discoveries Along the Chinese Silk Road. Singapore: Springer Nature Singapore, 2023. 87-109. https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-981-99-0659-8_7

Høisæter, Tomas Larson. Trade, Buddhism, and the Kushan connection: exchange across the Pamir Knot and the making of the Silk Roads, 2nd century BCE to 5th century CE. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Asian History. 2023. https://oxfordre.com/asianhistory/display/10.1093/acrefore/9780190277727.001.0001/acrefore-9780190277727-e-598

Inscription from the Bimaran Stupa, Afghanistan (Bimaran Vase Inscription)

In 1880 CE (B.E. 2423), Mr. Charles Masson, a British explorer, conducted excavations at the ruins of a Buddhist site in the Jalalabad Valley, Afghanistan. He unearthed a stupa named Bimaran Stupa and discovered several ancient artifacts. One of these was a vase or reliquary made from polished soapstone, enshrined inside the stupa. The vase has a diameter of 13.70 centimeters. On its lid is an inscription in Kharosthi script, written in the Prakrit language, which reads:

"Bhagavata sirirehi (s̄rirehi) Sivarakhitasa (Sivarakṣitasa) Mujhavandaputrasa danamuhe"
On the side of the vase, another inscription in Kharosthi reads:
"Sivarakhitasa Mujhavandaputrasa danamuhe niyatite bhagavata sarirahi sarvabuddhanam pujayate"

Translation:
“The sacred relics (sarira) of the Blessed One (Bhagavat), respectfully offered by Sivarakṣita, son of Mujhavanda, as an act of worship to all Buddhas.”

This reliquary dates to approximately B.E. 700–800 (roughly 2nd–3rd century CE). It is currently on display at the British Museum in London, United Kingdom.

jhānas (meditative states) and nibbāna (enlightenment)

The path of dhamma (the truth or teachings)

A healthy and legitimate path

This path is likely to lead beings to the end of suffering, making it a legitimate and healthy route for anyone who is sufficiently wise and intelligent. Unlike humans, animals are trapped in their daily suffering and exist in confusion, living under constant threats and driven by instinct. They navigate a world filled with predators, aggression, fear, escapism, hatred, and violence without the ability to change their situation.

Humans possess a unique capacity that animals do not. Firstly, we have the ability to conceive that escaping this suffering might be possible. Secondly, we can genuinely wish to escape it and actively seek a state of being or experience that is free from all forms of suffering.

To achieve this escape, we have specific mental faculties, which are intrinsic to our human nature. These faculties allow us to differentiate between actions or thoughts that will assist us on this spiritual path and those that will keep us entrenched in misery, suffering, aggression, and violence. We are capable of recognizing what is skilful (kusala, meaning skillful or beneficial) and what is unskilful (akusala, meaning unskillful or harmful).

Skilfulness

The Pali word "kusala" (skill) has translated to "skill" in English and "scola" (school) in Latin. This connection illustrates that the word "school" shares a common origin, referring to a place where we develop our skills. Therefore, "kusala" is best understood as "skilfulness." In the commentary "dhamma saṃghani" (the collection of teachings), composed by Buddha Gosa, the term "kusala" indicates the skill of a craftsman while he is working. Hence, the meaning of "kusala" focuses on the idea of skilfulness—not just being "well" or "good," but possessing the intelligence and sharpness of mind necessary for personal growth and improvement. Skilfulness, in this context, leads to less suffering and aids us on our path to happiness. Conversely, "akusala" (unskilful) signifies clumsiness and anything that misguides us from the right way of living.

We find ourselves in a school dedicated to developing our skilfulness. Here, we cultivate habits that promote constructive, helpful, and beneficial behaviours. Simultaneously, we learn to abandon unskilful and harmful behaviours that often lead to suffering and pain.

To think on our own

If we were to ask a Jew, a Moslem, a Hindu, a Mahayana Buddhist, a Theravāda Buddhist (Theravāda means "School of the Elders," referring to the oldest existing school of Buddhism), a Christian, a Communist, a Nazi, a Fascist, or an Atheist: "What are the skilful means for reaching that final goal, this place, this experience that is free of misery and suffering?" we would probably get various answers. These differing perspectives might lead to confusion, as each belief system has its unique approach to understanding life and overcoming pain. It is not necessary to study all the paths taught by various traditions. Instead, it is more useful to think for ourselves and attempt to understand these ideas independently.

On one hand, we can reflect on our current state of distress and stress, which can often feel like a limitation in our lives. For many of us, recognizing this state occurs without much thought; it is instinctive and immediate. For some individuals, their awareness of the world's suffering may have begun in their early years. On the other hand, we can also contemplate and analyze what an ideal state might be—a place free from pain and suffering. In Buddhist terms, this ideal state is closely related to the concept of nibbāna (nirvana), which signifies the ultimate freedom from suffering, desire, and the cycle of birth and death, known as samsara.

Once we have thoughtfully and positively reflected on these two elements and acknowledged their reality, we need to develop the skill to understand what causes suffering, misery, and pain on one hand, and what should help us experience the cessation of suffering, misery, and stress on the other hand.

Confidence and doubt

We actually find ourselves in a four-dimensional world, which extends beyond the three familiar dimensions of length, width, and height to include time as the fourth dimension. This reflection should be mature and should be supported by as many doubts and questions as it is by certainty and confidence. Indeed, it is dangerous to be confident without any sense of doubt, just as it is unproductive to doubt without having any confidence. We should strive to find a balanced path that always includes a small amount of doubt. This slight doubt will encourage us to reflect and engage in self-questioning at any moment, prompting us to consider whether we are about to follow a risky course of action. One must remain alert to the nature of confidence, which can quickly turn into a blind faith in a system that we no longer fully understand or control.

We sometimes say: "the one who has experienced awakening is the one who has dispelled all doubts." Awakening refers to a profound realization or insight into the nature of reality. Paradoxically, removing doubt also involves diminishing one’s awareness of certain thoughts and feelings. Buddha does not say: "the one who has reached the state of awakening has developed complete confidence." Instead, he conveys that "the one who has attained the experience of awakening has let go of skeptical doubt." Skeptical doubt refers to uncertain thoughts that question the truth of spiritual teachings. By letting go of skeptical doubt, one simultaneously casts aside the need for absolute confidence in those teachings.

These two elements—doubt and confidence—can be detrimental when they are present in excessive amounts, but they are beneficial when they remain balanced. It is vital to approach spiritual practice with an open, questioning mind while also recognizing the necessity of trusting one’s insights and experiences.

Our school, the one of reflection, the one of reasoning, is characterized by a constructive form of scepticism, as opposed to a destructive kind. It is a school of reason, centered around what is reasonable. This approach is not confined to Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Mahayana Buddhism, Theravāda Buddhism (the latter two being different traditions within Buddhism), Christianity, Communism, Nazism, Fascism, or Atheism. Instead, it exists within each of us, accessible once we choose to embrace it. This school of thought does not require formal membership, religious leaders, structured hierarchy, unwavering beliefs, or sacred texts. It is simply the personal work we each engage in, at our own level, in our everyday lives. When we think critically and make progress, we come to realize that our reflections and thoughts have been articulated in the past, developed and explored by others before us.

We then discover that Buddha, the monk Gotama, is someone whose teachings have always aligned with this line of thought. All his teachings, in fact, are practical and reasonable discussions about everyday life. From this moment onward, we feel a connection with these teachings and the lessons shared by monks. We find ourselves in harmony with Buddha's teachings, not merely because we accept them, but simply because, through our own reflections, we arrive at similar insights. It’s not just that we agree with these teachings, but rather that we perceive them as agreeing with our own understanding. There is always a balance present between doubt, skepticism, and confidence. This balance is crucial. It’s important to recognize that the individual who has reached perfect awakening, known as anarahanta (one who is fully awakened), is not someone who can be said to have gained complete confidence in Buddha's teachings. He would not assert that he has total certainty about them either. Instead, he has cultivated the ability, through his experiences and reflections, to remain uncertain about anything. However, he is someone who never doubts, which is indeed a paradoxical situation. The state of absolute confidence, complete truth, and total certainty does not reside in the mind of a wise person.

Thus, if we reflect upon it, if we ask ourselves the question "what is this world made of?", we will realize that any discussion or reflection will credibly lead us to become aware that this world is quite confused. We will ascertain that it is very difficult to extract a truth, a substance, or something steady and reliable, on which we could rest. We truly live in a confused world. This confusion can be seen in various areas: the social world, the political world, the economic world, the technological world, the real world, the virtual world, as well as in the realms of religion, spirituality, philosophy, and culture; all these areas remain somewhat chaotic and disordered.

In all fields of activities, there still exists a common element, which is a certain level of stress and constraint. Accompanying this is a deep, often unexpressed, desire for freedom that nearly all beings share in their own unique ways. From this understanding, we can draw a conclusion that is reasonable and thoughtful, one that warrants further exploration through contemplation. This conclusion reflects the idea that one of the major characteristics of our world is its painful nature. This distress is something we can often observe and confirm wherever we choose to reflect or look upon our experiences. We have thus identified an essential element that resonates across multiple aspects of existence.

Now, we can try to think, to reflect upon that which could be a spot, an experience empty of such a constraint. And we can understand that this thing, this spot, this experience is the only possible alternative to all the turpitude and constraints of this world. Exactly in the same way as if there was noise, silence alone is the possible alternative to set ourselves free from the noise.

Pleasure, source of our suffering

For example, when there is a particularly displeasing sound, we would like it to stop, because it is painful. It is possible for us to replace this sound by another one. We can transmute this sound, we can purify it. We can follow a step that will lead us from a particularly unpleasant sound to a blissful and marvelous one. The problem lies in that in any case, we haven't eliminated the sound. We have proceeded from an unpleasant sound to a pleasant one. It is better than nothing; it can give us short-term comfort. However, we have not eliminated the problem of the sound because the sound is still there. Moreover, even if we deal with a particularly pleasant sound, after some time, we will probably be totally fed up with it. Even a particularly melodious sound will finally become unpleasant. What did change? Why is a sound pleasant, nice, and then, the same sound, the same melody, becomes unbearable? It is quite strange! That which has changed, quite simply, is: we have gotten too much of it. We have experienced an overdose of it. This highlights an essential teaching in Buddhism: excessive attachment to any experience, whether pleasant or unpleasant, leads to suffering.

Even pleasure can transform into displeasure; when experienced too frequently, it can become unbearable. Pleasure can also become a source of pain, restriction, and stress. Often, people use pleasure as a temporary fix to escape suffering and hardships. In a way, we feel compelled to chase after pleasures to make this life more bearable. However, this very pursuit of pleasure can lead to our suffering and misery, as we find ourselves trapped in the cycle of wanting more.

Therefore, pleasure is not synonymous with well-being; it is not a solution to suffering. The alternative to pain is not merely experiencing pleasure; instead, it lies in the complete absence of pain. In other words, the opposite of an unpleasant sound is not just a pleasant sound but rather silence itself. Similarly, the antidote to all painful experiences is not necessarily a joyful experience filled with abundance; it is the state of having no experience at all.

This insight is akin to what Buddha discovered, a realization that can also arise from our contemplation. Buddha's teachings emphasize a deeper understanding of suffering and the cessation of it, guiding individuals towards a state known as nibbāna (nirvana), which represents the ultimate freedom from suffering.

In Buddhism, jhānas (meditative absorptions) are profound states of mental focus and tranquility that practitioners can achieve. These states involve deep concentration and are characterized by an incredibly clear state of consciousness where distractions fade away. By engaging in spiritual exercises, humans can attain these elevated states of consciousness, which allow for a deeper understanding of reality and the nature of existence. Through jhānas, one may experience a sense of peace that transcends ordinary life.

States of intense happiness

We can succeed – as humans have done for thousands of years – through spiritual exercises, in experiencing states of grace, which are special moments of clarity where almost nothing is active in the mind. These states of consciousness have the power to remain clear, transparent, and still. Within these moments, we often feel a deep sense of well-being, free from any pain or discomfort. Such experiences are referred to in many historical texts, including those from Sufism, Hinduism, Mahayana (a branch of Buddhism), and other spiritual traditions.

We can envision these states of consciousness, even if we have not personally experienced them. They are frequently discussed within various mystical traditions around the world. Many people speculate – especially those who have had unique or transformative experiences – that it is possible to achieve a degree of inner fullness or completeness, which some describe as a state of intense happiness. This suggests that it is indeed credible to reach a mental state that is free from sorrow and stress. The monk Gotama, who is known as the Buddha, referred to these experiences as jhānas (meditative states of deep concentration) in his teachings.

During these experiences, consciousness functions in a specific way that feels extremely fast, filled with clarity, and deeply connected to a state of well-being, neutrality, and intense inner joy. This feeling can be described as a kind of liberation. The monk Gotama, also known as the Buddha, referred to this type of awareness as "emancipated consciousness." However, we find a similar scenario as when an unpleasant sound is replaced by a pleasant one. A pleasant sensation is, by definition, free from unpleasant sensations.

If we attain a kind of completeness or divine state, we engage with an experience that lacks sorrow. Because this experience is highly enjoyable, it is also free from suffering. From this perspective, it is not merely the absence of suffering; rather, it represents a state where suffering cannot exist because other positive experiences fill the space entirely. To achieve these states of consciousness or these enlightening mental experiences, one needs to practice spiritual exercises that are outlined in various religious traditions, including Christian, Sufi, Hindu, Mahayana Buddhism, and others.

Plenitude is not the solution

Buddha himself taught these spiritual exercises. He described forty different practices that are not exclusive to any one tradition. Those who diligently and energetically engage in these practices can attain these unique spiritual experiences. However, Buddha emphasized that achieving a state of plenitude or completeness is not the ultimate answer. It results in a state of consciousness that is devoid of suffering since its inherent functioning prevents painful sensations from arising. This can be compared to a situation in a dentist's office where one does not experience pain because the method of distraction—like the use of anesthesia or focusing on something else—interferes with the feeling of discomfort.

Nevertheless, for him, that is not the solution. Those are states of consciousness that are free from suffering because their way of working does not allow painful feelings to exist. For example, when we are at the dentist's office, we do not feel any pain because the nerve endings that usually transmit pain signals are made inactive by an anesthetic. However, the usual elements are still present: the dentist's drill and the nerve are still there too. It is just that the experience of suffering has been temporarily blocked.

Thus, when we engage deeply in meditation exercises, experiencing a type of inner pleasure, we have not eliminated the root causes of suffering. Instead, we have temporarily muted a function. Since we no longer can feel suffering in that moment, we may mistakenly believe we have achieved a state that is completely free from it.

Stress, constraints and difficulties have been replaced by something far too voluminous, leaving no space for anything else to occur. The delight provided by the jhānas (which are deep states of meditation where concentration is heightened) is without otherness; this means that it is technically impossible for anything else to happen within them. It is already a significant achievement to reach this state, which can be accomplished through concentration. This involves focusing our attention on a single point—whether that be a thought, image, or mantra—for hours, months, or even years, without any break. Eventually, this focus may come to appear in our dreams or at any time during our day, even when we are not actively thinking about it. In such moments, we become fully immersed, feeling "one" with our meditation support. For instance, if we choose a symbol or a deity from our religious tradition as our focus, there will come a time when we achieve a kind of unity with this deity. At that point, we may no longer be able to distinguish the deity from our consciousness. We will be dwelling in the sphere of that deity, experiencing a deep connection. While it is a noteworthy accomplishment to reach this state, it is rare for individuals to achieve it. However, upon reflection, we might still question whether this experience truly represents complete liberation from suffering.

An unusual path

To the awakened Gotama (Buddha), the answer is negative. To the free thinker, who accepts nothing as true without questioning, the answer cannot be positive. What Buddha discovered is a hidden approach, a path that was not visible in his time. It is an unusual path that does not lead beings from suffering to bliss, or from unhappiness to happiness. Instead, it allows beings to stop creating suffering without generating happiness in its place. This situation is quite paradoxical. It involves bringing the process of causing and repeating suffering to a complete halt. The idea is to refrain from following any specific path at all. For Gotama Buddha, this is the only alternative to experiencing suffering. It is the absence of suffering, which comes from not committing to the path that leads to suffering. If we choose not to engage in the path that leads to suffering, we simultaneously avoid committing to the path that leads to happiness, sensory pleasure, or bliss. This is referred to as the path of abstention, or cessation.

The path of cessation leads us to change the way we relate to the world. Instead of committing ourselves to a specific practice or exercise that promises a particular result, we shift our focus. Specifically, we refrain from engaging in practices or exercises that are expected to yield a result. At this level, the question of whether the outcome will be joyful or painful becomes irrelevant, as both outcomes still pose challenges. This is why, in our journey, we do not immerse ourselves in the experience of jhānas (states of meditative absorption), which are referred to as sublime consciousness, absorbed consciousness, or divine consciousness. We are not pursuing a series of steps aimed at bringing about happiness, fulfillment, or inner peace. Instead, we concentrate on a step that involves stopping behaviors likely to produce these desired outcomes. This might seem unbelievable at first.

The absence of experience

While many people ponder the creation of the world, we are interested in the moment that precedes it. Numerous individuals focus on what actions should be taken to achieve a goal or obtain something desirable. Paradoxically, our true interest lies in the idea of letting go of the pursuit of reaching beyond this moment—that is, we aim to stop striving for external achievements or experiences.

Whereas many are those who wonder about the world's creation, we are interested in the moment that preceded it. Many people wish to understand what should be done to reach a certain goal or achieve something valuable in life. However, what interests us is the idea of no longer striving to reach or attain anything. Our aim is to explore the state where the world does not manifest, where existence itself is not produced. This inquiry leads us to consider a state free from both suffering and the fleeting pleasures that accompany it. For instance, imagine a situation where there is no unpleasant sound, but there is also no pleasant sound. This state represents the experience of silence, which, by definition, should not exist as a concrete experience. An experience typically requires something to focus on, known as an object. In this context, an object represents something that is present. In religions, spiritual traditions, or economic discussions, we often speak of this "presence."

Our exploration leads us towards the absence of presence, which is the absence of experience. It's important to clarify that this absence should not be mistaken for nothingness, a concept which does not truly exist. We become aware of this because the world is present right in front of us. Consequently, we cannot arrive at nothingness, because, simply put, nothingness does not exist; there is only the world around us. Perhaps there could have been a time when nothingness prevailed, but if that were the case, the world we see today wouldn’t exist either. Clearly, this is not our reality. Thus, while we confront the world and its absence, we find that this absence cannot be categorized as nothingness. This sets the stage for a complicated riddle that we must grapple with.

There must therefore be something that shouldn't be an experience, neither a sensation, nor a consciousness. This concept refers to an aspect of existence that is fundamentally devoid of suffering, but also lacks happiness, fullness, and joy. This state is often difficult to define, but it suggests a deeper experience beyond our typical emotions. The idea here is that something must exist because the universe cannot be based on nothingness. Therefore, we are confronting a kind of technical puzzle, where the questions we are exploring are rooted in logic and philosophical inquiry.

Nibbāna (Nirvana) is a key term in Buddhist teachings that refers to a state of liberation or freedom from suffering and the cycle of rebirth. It is described as an 'extinct element,' meaning it is not something that can be physically experienced or seen in the conventional sense. Buddha experienced this state, which contains no characteristics or form—hence it cannot fully be said to exist in our usual understanding, nor can it be dismissed as non-existent. He engaged with this profound concept through his consciousness but was unable to perceive it in a direct way. This profound experience, which lacks sensation, represents what is often called the experience of awakening. This awakening is challenging to articulate because it transcends ordinary experiences. Buddha employed various terms like 'liberation' or 'emancipation' to illustrate this state, often referring to it in context with 'divine consciousness' that comprises multiple levels of awareness.

To designate this unusual element, he used the word: nibbāna (enlightenment or liberation), which does not bear the meaning that many people ascribe to it: the flame that would have been blown off, the state empty of attachment, or empty of suffering. The word nibbāna doesn't really have a fixed lexical meaning. It serves a purpose, like all words do, but we can hardly trace it back to a single, definitive root. Scholars often enjoy finding etymologies for words. However, there comes a time when a word stands alone, without a clear origin. For example, the Greek root of the word "to petrify" comes from "petros," which means "stone" in French ("pierre"). "To petrify" means "to turn into stone." The word "pierre" refers to a "strong and solid mineral substance that forms compact masses." Similarly, the term "nibbāna" is used to indicate a specific state or concept in Buddhism but does not necessarily have a direct root word. It is not essential to trace a root for every word.

Buddha used this term, which was common in his time, to describe various states, including the stage of rice just out of the steam room or the state after death of a being, like a dog. Interestingly, the concept of a dead dog becomes paradoxical, as a body without life no longer functions as a dog. To clarify this, we use the term "parinibbāna" (final nibbāna), which refers to the ultimate state of nirvana, where all attachments and sufferings cease after death. Understanding these terms helps to grasp the deeper teachings of Buddhism and the journey towards enlightenment.

Buddha has used the word "nibbāna" (enlightenment or liberation) which was a common term during his time to describe profound states of existence. For example, it can refer to the stage of rice after being cooked in the steam room—ready to eat but still warm. He also used this term to describe the state of a dog after death. Paradoxically, however, once a dog is dead, it no longer exists as a living dog. In this context, we refer to "parinibbāna" (complete nibbāna or final liberation), which means "complete enlightenment", or "nibbāna that encompasses everything." When we take the rice out of the steam room, although it remains hot, it is no longer actively cooking. Similarly, we say the rice is in "parinibbāna", meaning it has not disappeared; rather, something fundamental has changed such that it is no longer the same as before. Buddha uses this term to describe a state that is free from suffering, sensations, joy, or even fullness. The term "nibbāna" (enlightenment) is indeed significant, but discussing it is challenging. It cannot be precisely defined, touched, or fully understood through ordinary experiences. Yet, it symbolizes an essential state that exists somewhere but is difficult to pinpoint or categorize. This idea can be seen as something that shouldn't belong to this world, in a sense, but paradoxically, it cannot be entirely separate from it either. It captures a moment of profound peace and liberation from all forms of attachment and suffering, which is a crucial aspect of Buddhist teachings.

The term utilised by Buddha to designate this kind of phenomenon is "loka uttara" (world transcending). "loka" means "the spot" or "the place", while "uttara" means "on this side of", "previous to", and importantly, it does not mean "beyond". This is contrary to what many scholars assert. Hence, "loka uttara" does not mean "beyond the world", but rather "on this side of the world" or "which is previous to the world". The selection of this term by Buddha is intentional. He taught that nibbāna (nirvana) exists prior to the world and not outside of it. In simple terms, it is a state that comes into being when the worldly phenomena cease to exist. Therefore, nibbāna is what is present before the world takes form, which refers to the emergence of all phenomena, regardless of their nature. It would not be productive to delve into nibbāna in great detail. However, it's useful to pause and reflect: "There must be, in this world, an alternative to suffering, pain, misery, and stress." If such an alternative exists, it must be something that is completely empty—empty of all experiences and sensations. This emptiness is what allows for liberation from worldly suffering, a key aim in Buddhist practice.

By following the way pointed out by Buddha, by listening to his teachings, and by engaging in the training he recommended—specifically the practice of establishing mindfulness (satipaṭṭhāna, which means 'the foundations of mindfulness')—we can aspire to experience a state of awakening. This awakening is a profound realization or insight into the nature of existence. Buddha emphasizes that this mindfulness practice is the only path leading to such enlightenment.

The concept of jhānas (meditative absorptions) refers to deeper states of mental concentration that can be achieved through meditation. These are stages of bliss and tranquility that help practitioners develop a calm mind conducive to deeper understanding. On the other hand, nibbāna (nirvana) is understood as the ultimate goal in Buddhism, representing liberation from the cycle of birth and death (samsara), characterized by the cessation of suffering and the extinguishing of desires. Knowing these terms helps us navigate the teachings more clearly.

How to establish the link between the extinct element and our daily lives?

We can try to concretely see what the experience of the extinct element (a concept in Buddhism referring to a state of non-attachment or the cessation of clinging) can bring about in our daily lives, whether we are school teachers, laborers, doctors, unemployed individuals, men, women, rich or poor, literate or illiterate, old or young. It is significant. How will it help us suffer less, feel less uneasy, be less miserable and stressed, and encounter fewer difficulties, even if it means we may enjoy fewer pleasures and experience less of the small happiness life offers? How can we establish a connection between that which exists before the world (often related to concepts such as ultimate reality or enlightenment in Buddhism), that which is empty, and our day-to-day experiences which are tangible and filled with sensations—good and bad, joy and pain, compassion and love, happiness and stress? What connection can we draw between these two realities? Does reaching awakening (nibbāna or enlightenment in Buddhism) mean merging into something suddenly? Does it imply that this body disappears, consciousness vanishes, and everything ceases to exist? Is there a bridgeable gulf between our worldly existence and that which existed prior to it, a bridgeable gap between our everyday life and a state of non-existence? If this were the case, what purpose would it serve?

That which beings (sentient creatures) desire, and this desire is the most legitimate in the world, involves achieving success in their daily lives and reducing their suffering. To be alive means encountering difficulties and stresses. This notion is widely accepted. However, we find ourselves in a situation where we are bound to live; we have no alternative. Therefore, we must contemplate how to navigate the time that exists between our understanding of this truth and our final moments on earth—those moments when we will face death (after which, the afterlife remains a mystery to us). What is significant about the practice of satipaṭṭhāna (establishing awareness) — a practice not merely a product of random chance— is that when we successfully experience the concept of the "extinct element," which is not part of our physical world but exists prior to it, we notice substantial changes in our perspectives and experiences. Once we achieve this understanding, many aspects of our reality begin to transform. These changes occur distinctly within our world, impacting how we perceive it.

The complete clearing

That which changed lies in the fact that our minds become less affected by negative emotions and desires, such as cravings, attachments, fascinations, anger, hatred, aversion, and indifference. When we say "mind," we refer to our thoughts and feelings that shape our experiences of the world. This change is crucial because it allows us to see reality more clearly. We are the ones who have undergone this transformation, quite simply.

One way to understand this experience is to compare it to a wheat field that is filled with weeds. Just as weeds can obstruct our view and appreciation of the healthy wheat, our negative thoughts and emotions can cloud our perception of life. In Buddhism, the experience of awakening is described as a complete clearing of these obstructive elements; in this state, nothing harmful grows. Once we attain this experience, we still find the world and its phenomena around us; they remain unchanged. However, this does not mean that our perception of them remains the same. In fact, we begin to notice the world differently. Instead of dealing with weeds by pulling them out one by one, which is a painstaking process that risks damaging the precious wheat, we can choose a more effective approach to clarity. This longer, daunting task can sometimes seem impossible, especially when we realize that even when we reach the end of the field, new weeds can start to grow again, symbolizing the continuous challenges of life.

The approach that is suggested is based on the experience of awakening, which refers to a deep understanding and realization of reality where nothing new develops or emerges. This state signifies a profound clarity, as it allows us to see things as they truly are. After this process of clearing our minds, we will observe that the 'wheat'—symbolizing positive qualities like wisdom and compassion—grows stronger, while the 'weeds'—representing negative emotions and unwholesome thoughts—become significantly fewer. Even when we remove the weeds and sow more wheat, there are still fewer weeds each time. Eventually, by the time we reach our fourth planting, we might find that no weeds remain. This transformation occurs after repeated experiences of awakening, where it becomes evident that all phenomena remain present. The entire universe is still there, nothing essential has vanished. However, one significant change occurs: certain negative emotions, such as pain, anger, jealousy, adversity, hatred, and ignorance, have disappeared, allowing for a more peaceful state of being.

If we reach the end of suffering in this world, it is not due to simply eliminating something from it; nor is it because we have replaced one thing with another. This phenomenon reflects a type of transcendence that can be associated with **jhānas** (states of deep meditative absorption). In Buddhism, achieving jhānas involves heightened states of consciousness during meditation, which lead to greater clarity and insight. When we attain well-being in this world, we do so not by removing or substituting something external, but by cultivating a profound internal transformation. This aligns with the idea of **nibbāna** (nirvana), which signifies the ultimate goal of liberation from suffering, characterized by the cessation of desire and attachment.

If we reached the end of suffering in this world, it is not because we have removed something from the world, nor is it because we have substituted something else for it; rather, it involves a kind of transcendence — in this case, it relates to the jhānas (meditative absorptions). If we have achieved a state of well-being in this world, it is due to eliminating all our unwholesome behaviors and attitudes. Consequently, we have also removed all wholesome behaviors and attitudes from this world. We no longer create attitudes or behaviors that are likely to result in displeasing and harmful consequences. Moreover, we do not produce any that could lead to pleasing and happy results. This inability to create such activities stems from having realized the experience of the extinct element, known as loka uttara (the ultimate freedom from worldly suffering). Here, we find a connection between the world and the cessation of the world: when the cessation of the world occurs, the world returns, everything comes back... though a few key ingredients are missing. Nothing had to be transformed, transmuted, rejected, or adopted. There is no ritual, no prayer, no meditation, no mantra, no steps to follow, no technique, and no procedure involved. We do not require any institution, neither a master nor the adoption of specific behaviors. On the contrary, the first thing we need to do is to begin dropping all of these elements.

In the first stage, we can start to let go of many behaviors, even before we begin the path of  vipassanā (insight meditation). This means we can begin to prepare ourselves by renouncing behaviors in body and speech that immediately cause pain, suffering, problems, or complications. The goal is to create a clearer, more peaceful state of mind.

Not to do anything

To completely halt mental attitudes, ideas, and behaviors associated with neurosis (a term referring to anxiety and psychological distress), we cannot reach this point simply by controlling our physical and verbal actions. Instead, we might practice a meditation designed to cultivate a sense of serenity and inner strength. While this can provide a temporary respite from distress (which may last as long as life persists, but still remains temporary), we can also aim to prevent these negative states from arising in the first place. For example, we can manage our desires by engaging in meditation exercises that lead to feelings of fulfillment, devoid of cravings, which is beneficial. However, the true aim is to reach a state of simply not controlling anything or actively doing anything, where we do not utilize any techniques, exercises, or meditative practices. The ultimate realization is that desires have completely faded away, not arising at all, even while the external environment remains unchanged. Achieving this state is far superior.

When we experience an illness and take medication, we can successfully eliminate the underlying cause, which may be bacteria, microbes, or viruses responsible for the disease. However, we cannot guarantee that these causes won’t return in the future. While it is important to have treated the disease, there remains the possibility of its recurrence.

This is why, in our practice, we focus on jhānas (states of meditative absorption), which provide experiences of deep happiness, spiritual insight, and connection to the divine. These experiences do not draw us in simply for their own sake. What truly captivates us in our practice is the ability to relieve pain, suffering, difficulties, and stress—ironically—without the use of a formal technique or exercise. If we rely on a specific exercise for these results, we may not achieve the lasting relief we desire. Thus, our approach is methodical and reflective. It is important to realize that to prevent stress-inducing thoughts from arising, one must engage with an experience that transcends the ordinary world. Paradoxically, this experience involves not having a direct connection to a tangible object, as it lies beyond our conventional reality.

This object, this thing, is that which we call  nibbāna (nirvana, a state of ultimate peace and liberation from suffering). We sometimes refer to it as  dhamma dhatu (element of truth) – or  suññata dhatu (empty element) – which means "the essence of emptiness". In this context, "suñña" means "empty" and "ta" means "that which is". Similarly, when we describe "dark", we mean "without light", and terms like "té" in French or "ness" (as in clarity) refer to "that which is". Therefore, darkness is "that which is without light".

In a comparable manner, nibbāna (nirvana) represents a state of being that is not something physical or tangible. It is important to understand that it is not a thing we can hold or a phenomenon we can perceive; rather, it symbolizes the absence of suffering and attachment. This is why we refer to it as "that which is empty". This understanding sets apart our approach from typical meditation practices found in various schools of thought. This distinction helps us stay apart,  a fortiori (even more so), from the mindset of a consumer society that often prioritizes material gains over spiritual fulfillment.

You will ascertain that often, people who adhere to a spiritual tradition have the habit to spit at the consumer world, while telling about others:

Samatha

The Two Categories of Training

There are two main types of meditation training: samatha and vipassanā.

Definition: Samatha is a Pali term meaning "calm" or "peaceful." It represents a state of tranquility.

Example: Think of a still lake; its calm surface reflects peace, just as the mind can reflect tranquility when free from disturbances.

Practical Application: When you sit quietly and focus on your breath, you’re practicing samatha. It helps to calm your thoughts and feelings.

Vipassanā

Definition: Vipassanā means "insight." This practice focuses on understanding the true nature of reality.

Example: Consider a clear glass; it lets you see what’s inside without distortion, just as vipassanā aims to see things as they truly are, free from illusions.

Practical Application: During meditation, you may notice your thoughts and feelings without judgment, helping you see their impermanent nature.

Understanding the difference: Samatha promotes calmness, while vipassanā fosters insight into the nature of existence.

Those who engage in meditation practice often focus on specific exercises aimed at achieving mental calmness, known as samatha. Definition: Samatha means "calm" and involves directing your attention to something steady, like your breath or a sound. Example: Just like watching a still pond helps quiet your mind, focusing on your breath can create inner peace. Practical application: Spend a few minutes each day observing your breath; this helps stabilize your thoughts and fosters a sense of tranquility.
By consistently returning your focus to the same point, you can gradually reduce mental chatter, leading to a state of peace and clarity. This practice is referred to as samatha bhāvanā, where bhāvanā means "training."
On the other hand, there is vipassanā, which focuses on insight and understanding the nature of reality. Definition: Vipassanā means "clear seeing" and involves observing thoughts and sensations without attachment. Example: Think of it as watching clouds pass by without feeling the need to hold on to any specific shape; you simply notice them. Practical application: When emotions arise, like frustration during a frustrating day, observe the feeling without judgment, knowing it will pass.
While samatha helps calm the mind, vipassanā deepens awareness and understanding of one’s thoughts and feelings, leading to greater wisdom.
It's common to confuse the two: samatha brings peace, while vipassanā fosters insight. Both practices can enhance daily life; for instance, using samatha to manage stress at work and vipassanā to improve relationships by being more mindful of your reactions. Embracing both techniques enriches one's meditation journey and personal growth.

For instance, training in bodybuilding is a form of bhāvanā. Similarly, learning to read is also bhāvanā. In this context, bhāvanā refers to the practice of developing inner calm and clarity. Engaging in these training forms helps us experience clear and open states of mind, leading to a heightened sense of awareness. This awareness can feel divine or transcendent, which is a common indication of progressing in samatha practice.

samatha and vipassanā

Samatha is a practice that helps calm and focus the mind. Imagine staring at a simple, calming object, like a blue circle. By concentrating solely on this circle, you develop your ability to maintain focus and quiet your thoughts. This exercise is about creating a continuous, unbroken focus on one thing, making it feel as if that object has its own existence.

For example, while meditating, you can visualize the blue circle and if thoughts drift away, gently guide your attention back to it. This continual focus helps train your attention, but it does not lead to deeper understanding or wisdom. Some might think of it as merely practice, like strengthening a muscle, but it does not provide insight into the deeper truths of life.

Vipassanā, on the other hand, is about observing reality as it is. This practice encourages you to notice everything that comes into your awareness without clinging to any one thing, including the blue circle. Instead of focusing on the blue itself, you shift your attention to what is happening in the moment—your thoughts, feelings, and sensations—just as you would notice the different sounds around you without judging them. For instance, if you hear a dog barking, rather than focusing on the sound, you accept it as part of your present experience.

In practice, vipassanā helps you develop a clearer understanding of the mind and body, allowing you to see things as they are, free from attachment and misconception. A common misunderstanding is that samatha leads to enlightenment; while it prepares the mind for deeper insight, true understanding comes from vipassanā. By using both practices, you can create a balanced approach: samatha calms the mind, and vipassanā provides insight into your experiences.

In satipaṭṭhāna, what truly matters is simply being aware of our ability to see—it's about sight, consciousness, and perception, not just fixating on the blue circle or its color. If we continuously focus on the blue circle for too long, we miss the essence of seeing itself. We remain caught in merely observing rather than being fully present. It’s crucial to develop presence of mind, or satipaṭṭhāna, which cannot happen if we fixate on something that seems constant.

Samatha, meaning calm or tranquility, refers to a meditative practice that focuses on stabilizing the mind. Think of it like watering a plant. Regular, measured attention helps establish a strong foundation, leading to a peaceful mind. For example, when you watch your breath, you train your mind to settle, much like anchoring a small boat in still water. This practice is helpful for reducing stress and improving focus in everyday life.

Vipassanā, on the other hand, translates to insight or clear seeing. It’s like shining a flashlight in a dark room, allowing you to see what’s really there. In this practice, you observe thoughts and feelings without attachment, understanding their nature as they come and go. For instance, when feeling anxious, instead of fighting those feelings, you simply notice them, which helps in understanding and managing emotions more effectively.

While both practices are complementary, confusion often arises. Samatha is about developing calmness, while vipassanā involves insight into the nature of experience. They work best together; for example, you might start with samatha to calm your mind, then shift to vipassanā to explore thoughts and feelings with clarity. Real-world applications include using samatha techniques to prepare for challenging conversations, while vipassanā can help you respond with greater awareness during those interactions.

Then, there is that which the monk Gotama, the one who reached perfect awakening, has discovered, which is vipassanā. vipassanā is a form of insight meditation focused on seeing reality as it truly is. It involves actively observing thoughts and feelings without attachment or judgment. For example, if you feel anger rising, instead of suppressing it, you acknowledge its presence, understanding its nature without getting swept away by it.

In contrast, samatha refers to concentration meditation aimed at fostering tranquility and calmness. This practice stabilizes the mind by focusing on a single object, like your breath. Imagine trying to focus on a still pond; your mind, like ripples on water, calms down as you hold your attention steadily.

While samatha cultivates peacefulness, vipassanā develops clarity and insight into the nature of existence. These two practices work together but serve different purposes. Think of samatha as sharpening a tool and vipassanā as learning how to use it effectively.

It’s crucial to realize that one isn’t a replacement for the other. You can practice samatha to build your focus and then transition into vipassanā to deepen your understanding of yourself and the world. Both are available to anyone interested in enhancing their awareness and mental flexibility.