WHY CAN THERAPY, HEALING, MINDFULNESS, NEUROSCIENCE… STILL OPERATE WITHIN THE SAME THOUSAND-YEAR-OLD STRUCTURE OF IGNORANCE?
Thousands of years ago, when human beings fell into mental suffering—states of inner insecurity, fear, suffocation, despair, torment, and loss of direction—they could not name its cause. Crop failures, illness, war, disasters were only external conditions; what truly exhausted people was the prolonged sense of helplessness, anxiety, insecurity, and fear within themselves. Yet because this was not seen clearly, all mental suffering was attributed to external forces: angry gods, unappeased ancestors, meddling demons, or a fate already decided.
Believing that mental suffering came from outside, people also believed that relief had to come from outside. Hence rituals, offerings, prayers, sacrifices, supplications. The mechanism was clear: people placed themselves in a small, passive, powerless position. They believed there was an “I” suffering inside, and that to end suffering they had to please a power greater than themselves. The self at that time was crude, fearful, and dependent—but still a self: I am suffering, and I need to be saved.
Today, outwardly, everything looks completely different. There are no sacrifices, no kneeling in public squares. Instead, there is psychotherapy, healing meditation, mindfulness, neuroscience, energy work, information fields, the subconscious. The language is more modern, the frameworks more civilized, the expressions more convincing. But if one looks deeply at how people face their own mental suffering, the ancient mechanism of ignorance has not changed.
There is still a rarely questioned assumption: suffering is happening to me. There is still a quiet belief: I need to do something to end suffering. And there is still a familiar direction: finding a method, a guide, a system to take me out of inner insecurity and pain.
The difference is only in form. In the past, people prayed to gods; today, they pray to methods. In the past, they believed in supernatural forces; today, they believe in academic books, scientific models, refined techniques, and healing language. But the core belief about the self—that there is a “me” bearing suffering in the mind—remains intact.
That is ignorance.
Ignorance is not a lack of education, degrees, or scientific understanding.
Ignorance is failing to see how mental suffering is generated right within the implicit belief that there is a real “me” who is suffering. When this idea is not recognized, then no matter how many times causes are renamed, or how sophisticated suffering-management becomes, people continue to revolve within the same self-generated structure of distress.
Ignorance therefore operates very quietly. Many think that lack of wisdom only appears as shouting, rage, blindness, or reckless behavior. Few realize that the most dangerous form of ignorance often speaks in a very pleasant voice: gentle, reasonable, well-intentioned, wrapped in humanitarian and even scientific language. It provokes no resistance, creates no sense of wrongness; on the contrary, it reassures people because everything sounds proper and kind.
What is most regrettable is that almost no one truly shows others how to look directly at their own mind—not to search, persuade, control, analyze, fix, or improve mental states, but to see the mechanism that is operating.
In truth, “Only the present phenomenon—this is insight itself”—this was pointed out long ago by someone (the Buddha). But at certain times, people “forgot,” and those who genuinely practiced and guided this way of seeing were rarely widely known.
When “seeing body and mind” became widely mentioned because many people directly realized it and spoke about it in the age of social media, many others also learned to repeat it fluently, even teaching it skillfully in curricula. Yet the seeing often remained at the level of form and did not reach the root. As phrases like “looking into the mind” or “seeing” became popular, they quickly turned into slogans.
This emptiness went so far that some who carry the title of monastic made a fundamental mistake: instructing others that they “must take the knowing as themselves.” Here, ignorance is exposed most clearly. Instead of seeing that knowing has no owner, they construct a new “me,” more refined, wearing the robe of awakening. Thus, while thinking they are leading others out of mental suffering, they inadvertently pull everyone back to the same place—only with more beautiful language.
Modern methods easily create a sense of progress. People no longer tremble in prostration but sit calmly in meditation. There are no sacrifices, only breathing exercises. No fear of divine punishment, only talk of healing and self-love. Yet deep down, they are still doing exactly what their ancestors did: trying to soothe a self that believes it is real and mentally suffering.
Many current teachings—from psychology, therapy, healing courses to monastics who vow toward liberation—do not actually aim to end mental suffering, but merely to soothe it. The paradox sometimes forces me to ask: is ordination meant to make one a better comforter, more moral, or more refined in soothing inner pain?
In original Buddhist teaching, ordination is not to learn how to live more gently within the cycle of suffering, but to relinquish and completely uproot that cycle. Reducing others’ suffering is noble in humanitarian terms, but it must not be confused with the ultimate goal of liberation. When the path pointed out still revolves around caring for the self and soothing emotions, it should be called correctly: psychological support, not liberation.
The Buddha’s path was not meant to improve psychological life or make people more balanced. He pointed to one thing: mental suffering arises from clinging, and clinging arises from not seeing correctly. The path does not fix what is clung to; it collapses the very structure of clinging.
Liberation is not reserved for monastics. It has nothing to do with robes or status, only with whether the mechanism that creates mental suffering is seen. Some ordain for a lifetime yet still revolve around soothing the self. Some laypeople live ordinary lives yet see what needs to be seen. Therefore, if an ordained person does not dare speak of ending suffering, that itself is a paradox.
Soothing suffering is not wrong. In many phases, it is necessary to prevent psychological collapse. But if those claiming to walk the path of liberation stop at soothing and do not clearly state that this is temporary, it is no longer skillful means but a substitution of goals. People are comforted—but also kept within a very gentle, very hard-to-escape loop of mental suffering.
I do not say this to accuse individuals. Most act this way not out of bad intent, but from the limits of their own seeing—from fear of unsettling others, fear of losing affection, fear of going against the majority, or from complicity (often mistaken for empathy) with suffering imaginary selves. But if one remains honest to liberation, one must have the courage to say clearly: soothing suffering is not ending suffering, and the path does not stop at making the self more comfortable—it ends with seeing that the self never needed saving.
SOOTHING SUFFERING AND ENDING SUFFERING
Many people mistakenly believe that ending suffering is a more advanced version of soothing suffering, or a life without events. This misunderstanding derails the path from the start.
Soothing suffering works with the content of psychological life. When pain, insecurity, or trauma arises, people try to reduce its intensity and destructiveness: focusing on the breath to calm body and mind, naming emotions to reduce panic, recognizing patterns to give the self an explanatory model. Throughout this process, there is still a “me” who suffers and is being cared for and supported by conceptual models.
Ending suffering does not work with that content. It touches directly the condition that allows mental suffering to exist: the subtle clinging to the belief that there is a real self being harmed by experience. When this clinging is seen, the condition sustaining suffering collapses—even if sensations and circumstances continue.
Methods of soothing suffering help people manage mental distress; ending suffering is seeing and ceasing to cling to the assumptions and illusions that generate it.
The following two real examples—from among many I have witnessed with students—make this clear:
One woman spent nearly twenty years in healing because she believed her parents had tried to harm her when she was very young, leaving her in constant torment. She practiced mindfulness, healing, energy work, gratitude, forgiveness—there was no method or retreat she did not try. After twenty years, the suffering remained.
Only when she stopped all healing efforts and closely observed what was happening in body and mind did she realize, within minutes, that the terrifying memory had never occurred. What she believed to be truth was actually a thought she had at age four: “If I weren’t beautiful, maybe my parents would have harmed me.” That thought was believed, repeated, linked to bodily reactions, and became a “memory.” This realization happened entirely on her own. (It should be added that people had repeatedly suggested psychiatric hospitalization, but her parents refused out of compassion.)
Another woman had in fact been sexually abused as a child. She kept it secret for years, carrying silent resentment, and often panicked in her sleep. She practiced many forms of healing and spirituality, along with charity, offerings, dedication of merit—but the pain and night panic persisted.
After encountering “Như Là,” in about two occasions of looking directly into her own mind over two weeks, she saw how pain was maintained through thought and identification. She saw that trauma was simply arising-passing phenomena, sustained by stories and worry. She grew weary of it, and the suffering fell away. I did nothing but applaud her courage to look. My description may sound academic; hers was utterly simple. I had no credit in this—these examples simply illustrate the difference between soothing that prolongs suffering and ending suffering.
And one point must be made very clearly: ending suffering does not mean rejecting worldly means, nor living passively, neglecting material life, society, health, or relationships. On the contrary, when suffering ends, worldly decisions become clearer, more accurate, and more effective.
Here is the mechanism:
As long as one believes there is an “imagined self” under threat, decisions are distorted by self-protection. Actions aim not at seeing what needs to be done, but at reducing the self’s insecurity. Thus, even reasonable actions often carry haste, defensiveness, competition, fear of loss, fear of error, fear of judgment. Decisions arise not from clarity, but from pressure to be “okay,” to “win,” to “not lose.”
When suffering ends, what changes is not circumstances but motivation. With no imaginary self needing protection, actions no longer patch insecurity. Using worldly means—seeing doctors, changing jobs, leaving toxic relationships, learning skills, adjusting lifestyle—becomes a direct response to the situation, not a panicked reaction.
Ending suffering is the dissipation of psychological fog caused by misperception, not a denial of life. Hence, worldly methods become far more effective afterward. The same action, but no longer to escape feelings—only to respond to reality. The same decision, but no longer to protect identity—only to handle the situation.
This explains why some people, while immersed in suffering, create more chaos the harder they try to fix life. Yet once suffering ends, they handle life cleanly: knowing when to go, when to stop, when to speak, when to be silent, when to endure, when to leave.
—
If you have read this far, the most important thing is to recognize where you stand. Soothing suffering has its value—but it is not ending suffering. When this distinction is clear, illusion and false expectation fall away.
If you choose to soothe suffering, know what you are choosing. But if you speak of ending suffering, accept that this path offers nothing to cling to. It places you before one question only: is what is suffering real, or merely a habit believed to be real?
Beyond that seeing, there is nothing to hold. Knowing what you are choosing is the first step of wisdom. From there, whether you continue or stop, you no longer walk in ignorance.
A QUICK, ROUGH REFERENCE: FORMS OF THE “SELF”
The following list is a very approximate, simple reference for self-reflection—seeing where one stands, what one takes oneself to be, and which identity layer one hides in. The self does not disappear by knowing more or practicing longer; it only changes shape, from coarse to subtle, from obvious to hard to detect. Without direct seeing, a refined self is easily mistaken for freedom or liberation.
- The bodily self / social role (most coarse)
“I am this body, this gender, this age, this profession, this family role.”
Mental suffering here is obvious: fear of loss, aging, illness, contempt.
→ Coarse, easy to see—yet rarely recognized. - The emotional self
“I am sensitive,” “I am wounded,” “I am strong,” “I was hurt.”
Lives on memory, reaction, emotional history.
→ Still coarse, but harder to release due to victimhood or pride. - The psychological self / personal narrative
“I am traumatized,” “I am healing,” “I am introverted/extroverted,” “this is my pattern.”
Legitimized by psychology and science.
→ More dangerous because it sounds humane and rational. - The observer self
“I am no longer the emotion; I observe it.”
Content is transcended, but the center remains.
→ Many stop here, thinking it is complete. - The energy self
“I am energy,” “my vibration is high/low,” “I am purifying.”
→ Subtle, but still “I have a state.” - The knowing self
“I am the knowing,” “take knowing as yourself.”
→ Most refined ignorance: knowing is owned. - The all-encompassing self
“I am everything,” “I am the universe.”
→ The center expands infinitely, but remains. - The true-nature / ultimate self
“I am true nature,” “I am the unborn essence.”
→ Most dangerous if taken as self; ultimate language preserves a subject.
The subtler the self, the easier it is mistaken for liberation.
The coarse self causes obvious suffering.
The subtle self reduces suffering—but not freedom.
Liberation is not choosing the “right” higher self, but ending the need to identify as anything.
If there is still a desire to say “I am”—even “I am nothing”—then it is not finished.
Phan Ý Ly
21/12/2025
Phan Y Ly 