Ñāṇa wrote:Property dualism isn't the same as substance dualism. For physicalists if there is no living brain then there are no emergent mental properties. For physicalists when the brain dies there is no possibility of a post-mortem consciousness arising. This view is incompatible with paṭiccasamuppāda.
Well, I haven't said anything about paṭiccasamuppāda, though I'm sure there are others who would debate that point. The question I brought up was not about paṭiccasamuppāda, but about your contention that physicalists cannot accept craving as the cause of suffering, because for them all our experiences are reducible to matter.
That's a straw man because it reflects only one, rather extreme physicalist viewpoint. And, actually, it's not even necessarily true of reductive materialism. Because even if we map every experience to a particular material process, we could still say that the (physical) process called "craving" causes the (physical) process called "suffering", which can be relieved through various meditation practices that work because of their effect on neural activity
. Linking craving and suffering isn't contingent on whether experience is ultimately dependent on matter, as you seem to suggest.
Lazy_eye wrote:The concerns of a small child are included in the set you have provided.
Your example trivializes the four noble truths.
Why? Because children are incapable of experiencing dukkha?
I don't know how much time you have spent around kids, but my experience has been that they are concerned about -- and often very anxious about -- big existential questions from an early age. Most kids become aware by age 4 that living creatures die and that they too (as well as their parents) will also be gone some day. This knowledge is not without impact. I have spent more time discussing great matters of life and death with ever-questioning children than with adults (probably since many adults are too embarrassed to talk about their fears).
This is the greater: the tears you have shed while transmigrating & wandering this long, long time — crying & weeping from being joined with what is displeasing, being separated from what is pleasing — not the water in the four great oceans.
Long have you (repeatedly) experienced the death of a mother. The tears you have shed over the death of a mother while transmigrating & wandering this long, long time — crying & weeping from being joined with what is displeasing, being separated from what is pleasing — are greater than the water in the four great oceans.
Long have you (repeatedly) experienced the death of a father... the death of a brother... the death of a sister... the death of a son... the death of a daughter... loss with regard to relatives... loss with regard to wealth... loss with regard to disease. The tears you have shed over loss with regard to disease while transmigrating & wandering this long, long time — crying & weeping from being joined with what is displeasing, being separated from what is pleasing — are greater than the water in the four great oceans.
This passage does not have to be interpreted as the record of one specific individual's passage through multiple lives. It could be read more broadly as pertaining to the common experience of beings, and inviting us to consider ourselves as part of that process (as opposed to autonomous, isolated selves). Indeed, one could say this broader interpretive scope is what provides depth and resonance. Seeing the passage as a mere screed about post-mortem rebirth narrows it and, in my view, trivializes it.