This anthology,
drawn from the teachings of Phra Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo,
provides an introduction to the basic outlines of his
thought and the method of meditation he taught.
The first
excerpt, from
The Craft of the Heart, was written shortly after he
had received training from Phra Ajaan Mun Bhuridatto. In it,
Ajaan Lee shows how he regarded the state of meditation
practice in Thailand at the time, and gives some ideas of
why he himself had chosen the path of becoming a meditating
monk.
The passage
from
Keeping the Breath in Mind details the method of
meditation he developed and taught in the later years of his
life. The passage from
The Path to Peace and Freedom for the Mind
elaborates on a theme he had learned from Ajaan Mun: that
there are no sharp boundaries among the practice of virtue,
concentration, and discernment, and that all three of these
aspects of the path are mutually reinforcing.
The three
excerpts from Dhamma talks make a similar point: that there
is no sharp division between the practice of tranquillity
meditation and insight meditation. They also emphasize the
role played by experimenting and using one's powers of
observation in developing meditation as a skill.
The excerpts
from
Frames of Reference and
Basic Themes deal with the development of
discernment, particularly with regard to detecting the
currents of the mind both those that flow out and get
involved with the world, and those that spin around with
reference to the mind in the present so as to touch the
aspect of the mind that doesn't flow, even to the present
moment.
The next
excerpt, from the concluding section of
The Craft of the Heart, discusses the goal of the
practice as a supreme awareness, beyond all suppositions.
The final
excerpt, from Ajaan Lee's
Autobiography, discusses some of the lessons he
learned by living in the forest.
My hope is that
this anthology will inspire the reader to further explore
Ajaan Lee's teachings both through reading more of his
writings and through putting their teachings into practice.
Thanissaro Bhikkhu
Introduction
When I first
became aware of the conflicting views held by people who
practice and of how ill-informed they are I felt
inspired by their desire to learn the truth, but at the same
time dismayed over their views: right mixed with wrong, some
people saying that nibbana and the paths leading to
it still exist, others maintaining that nibbana has
passed away and can no longer be attained. This latter
belief is a particular cause for dismay, because a desire
for nibbana is what has led us all to submit
ourselves to the practice of the Buddha's teachings in the
first place. If we don't have such a desire, we aren't
likely to be especially sincere in our practice; and if we
aren't sincere, our practice will be in vain as far as the
benefits the Buddha intended for us are concerned, because
the Buddha's sole purpose in teaching was to liberate living
beings from suffering and stress. If we were to worm our way
in as parasites on his religion, it would run counter to his
compassionate intentions toward us. Each and every one of us
aims for what is good, so we should pay heed to whatever
factors may lead to release from suffering and stress. Don't
let the Buddha's teaching pass by you in vain.
By and large,
from what I've seen of people who practice, a great many of
them train themselves in ways that mix right with wrong, and
then set themselves up as teachers, instructing their pupils
in line with their various theories about jhana,
concentration, nibbana, and the stream leading to it.
The lowest level are those who get so caught up with their
own views and opinions that their teachings can become
detrimental saying, for example, that we don't have enough
merit to practice, that we've been born too late for
nibbana and the paths leading to it, and so have to give
up our practice. (Opinions of this sort run the gamut from
crude to middling to subtle.)
But no matter
what level a person may know, if he doesn't know the hearts
and minds of others, he'll have great difficulty in making
his teachings effective and beneficial. Even though he may
have good intentions, if he lacks knowledge of those he is
teaching, progress will be difficult. The Buddha, whenever
he taught, knew the capabilities and dispositions of his
listeners, and the level of teaching for which they were
ripe. He then tailored his teachings to suit their
condition, which was why he was able to get good results.
Even though he had a lot of seed to sow, he planted it only
where he knew it would sprout. If he saw that the soil was
barren or the climate harsh, he wouldn't plant any seed at
all. But as for us, we have only a fistful of rice and yet
we cast it along a mountain spine or in the belly of the
sea, and so get either meager results or none at all.
Thus in this
book I have included teachings on every level elementary,
intermediate, and advanced leaving it up to the reader to
pick out the teachings intended for his or her own level of
attainment.
In practicing
meditation, if you direct your mind along the right path,
you'll see results in the immediate present. At the same
time, if you lead yourself astray, you'll reap harm in the
immediate present as well. For the most part, if meditators
lack the training that comes from associating with those who
are truly expert and experienced, they can become deluded or
schizoid in a variety of ways. How so? By letting themselves
get carried away with the signs or visions that appear to
them, to the point where they lose sense of their own bodies
and minds. Playing around with an external kasina is
a special culprit in this regard. Those who lack sufficient
training will tend to hallucinate, convinced of the truth of
whatever they focus on, letting themselves get carried away
by what they know and see until they lose touch with
reality, making it difficult for any sort of discernment to
arise. For this reason, in this guide I have taught to focus
exclusively on the body and mind, the important point being
not to fasten on or become obsessed with whatever may appear
in the course of your practice.
There are a
wide variety of meditation teachers who deviate from the
basic principles taught by the Buddha. Some of them, hoping
for gain, status, or praise, set up their own creeds with
magical formulae and strict observances, teaching their
students to invoke the aid of the Buddha. (Our Lord Buddha
isn't a god of any sort who is going to come to our aid.
Rather, we have to develop ourselves so as to reach his
level.) Some teachers invoke the five forms of rapture, or
else visions of this or that color or shape. If you see such
and such vision, you attain the first level of the path, and
so on until you attain the second, third, and fourth levels,
and then once a year you present your teacher with offerings
of rice, fruit, and a pig's head. (The Buddha's purpose in
spreading his teachings was not that we would propitiate him
with offerings. He was beyond the sway of material objects
of any sort whatsoever.) Once the pupils of such teachers
come to the end of their observances, they run out of levels
to attain, and so can assume themselves to be Buddhas,
Private Buddhas or Noble Disciples, and thus they become
instant arahants. Their ears prick up, their hair stands on
end, and they get excited all out of proportion to any basis
in reality.
When you study
with some teachers, you have to start out with an offering
of five candles and incense sticks, or maybe ten, plus
so-and-so many flowers and so-and-so much puffed rice, on
this or that day of the week, at this or that time of day,
depending on the teacher's preferences. (If you can afford
it, there's nothing really wrong with this, but it means
that poor people or people with little free time will have
trouble getting to learn how to meditate.) Once you finish
the ceremony, the teacher tells you to meditate araham,
araham, or buddho, buddho, until you get the
vision he teaches you to look for such as white, blue,
red, yellow, a corpse, water, fire, a person, the Buddha, a
Noble Disciple, heaven, hell and then you start making
assumptions that follow the drift of the objects you see.
You jump to the conclusion that you've seen something
special or have attained nibbana. Sometimes the mind
gathers to the point where you sit still, in a daze, with no
sense of self-awareness at all. Or else pleasure arises and
you become attached to the pleasure, or stillness arises and
you become attached to the stillness, or a vision or a color
arises and you become attached to that. (All of these things
are nothing more than uggaha nimitta.)
Perhaps a
thought arises and you think that it's insight, and then you
really get carried away. You may decide that you're a
stream-winner, a once-returner, or an arahant, and no one in
the world can match you. You latch onto your views as
correct in every way, giving rise to pride and conceit. (All
of the things mentioned here, if you get attached to them,
are wrong.) When this happens, liberating insight won't have
a chance to arise.
So you have to
keep digging away for decades and then get fixated on the
fact that you've been practicing a full twenty years, and so
won't stand for it if anyone comes along and thinks he's
better than you. So, out of fear that others will look down
on you, you become even more stubborn and proud, and that's
as far as your knowledge and ingenuity will get you.
When it comes
to actual attainment, some people of this sort haven't even
brought the Triple Gem into their hearts. Of course, there
are probably many people who know better than this. I don't
mean to cast aspersions on those who know.
For this
reason, I have drawn up this book in line with what I have
studied and practiced, If you see that this might be the
path you are looking for, give it a good look. My teacher
didn't teach like the examples mentioned above. He taught in
line with what was readily available, without requiring that
you had to offer five incense sticks or ten candles or a
pig's head or puffed rice or flowers or whatever. All he
asked was that you have conviction in the Buddha and a
willingness to practice his teachings. If you wanted to make
an offering, some candles and incense as an offering to the
Triple Gem would do one candle if you had one, two if you
had two; if you didn't have any, you could dedicate your
life instead. Then he would have you repeat the formula for
taking refuge in the Triple Gem as in the method given in
this book. His approach to teaching in this way has always
struck me as conducive to the practice.
I have been
practicing for a number of years now, and what I have
observed all along has led me to have a sense of pity, both
for myself and for my fellow human beings. If we practice
along the right lines, we may very likely attain the
benefits we hope for quickly. We'll gain knowledge that will
make us marvel at the good that comes from the practice of
meditation, or we may even see the paths and fruitions
leading to nibbana in this present life because
nibbana is always present. It lacks only the people who
will uncover it within themselves. Some people don't know
how; others know, but aren't interested and have mistaken
assumptions about it to boot: thinking, for example, that
nibbana is extinct, doesn't exist, can't be attained, is
beyond the powers of people in the present day; saying that
since we aren't Noble Disciples, how could we possibly
attain it. This last is especially deluded. If we were
already good, already Noble Disciples, what purpose would we
have in going around trying to attain nibbana?
If we don't
despise the Buddha's teachings, then we can all practice
them. But the truth of the matter is that though we worship
the Dhamma, we don't practice the Dhamma, which is the same
as despising it. If we feel well-enough situated in the
present, we may tell ourselves that we can wait to practice
the Dhamma in our next lifetime, or at least anytime by
right now. Or we may take our defilements as an excuse,
saying that we'll have to abandon greed, anger, and delusion
before we can practice the Buddha's teachings. Or else we
take our work as an excuse, saying that we'll have to stop
working first. Actually, there's no reason that meditation
should get in the way of our work, because it's strictly an
activity of the heart. There's no need to dismantle our
homes or abandon our belongings before practicing it; and if
we did throw away our belongings in this way, it would
probably end up causing harm.
Even though
it's true that we love ourselves, yet if we don't work for
our own benefit, if we vacillate and hesitate, loading
ourselves down with ballast and bricks, we make our days and
nights go to waste. So we should develop and perfect the
factors that bring about the paths and fruitions leading to
nibbana. If you're interested, then examine the
procedures explained in the following sections. Pick out
whichever section seems to correspond to your own level and
abilities, and take that as your guide.
As for myself,
I was first attracted to the Buddha's teachings by his
statement that to lay claim to physical and mental phenomena
as our own is suffering. After considering his teaching that
the body is anatta not-self I began to be struck
by a sense of dismay over the nature of the body. I examined
it to see in what way it was not-self, and as far as my
understanding allowed the Buddha's teaching began to make
very clear sense to me. I considered how the body arises, is
sustained and passes away, and I came to the conclusion
that:
(1) it arises
from upadana clinging through mistaken
assumptions which forms the essence of kamma.
(2) It is
sustained by nourishment provided by our parents; and
since our parents have nothing of their own with which to
nourish us, they have to search for food two-footed
animals, four-footed animals, animals in the water, and
animals on land either buying this food or else killing
it on their own and then feeding it to us. The animals
abused in this way are bound to curse and seek revenge
against those who kill and eat them, just as we are
possessive of our belongings and seek revenge against
those who rob us.
Those who
don't know the truth of the body take it to be the self,
but after considering the diseases we suffer in our eyes,
nose, mouth, and throughout the various parts of the body,
I concluded that we've probably been cursed by the animals
we've eaten, because all of these parts come from the food
we've made of their bodies. And so our body, cursed in
this way, suffers pain with no recourse for begging mercy.
Thus, victim to the spirits of these animals, we suffer
pains in the eyes, pains in the ears, pains in the nose
and mouth and throughout the body, until in the end we
have to relinquish the whole thing so they can eat it all
up. Even while we're still living, some of them like
mosquitoes and sandflies come and try to take it by
force. If we don't let go of our attachments to the body,
we're bound to suffer for many lives to come. This is one
reason why I felt attracted to the Buddha's teachings on
not-self.
(3) The body
passes away from being denied nourishment. The fact that
this happens to us is without a doubt a result of our past
actions. We've probably been harsh with other living
beings, denying them food to the point where they've had
to part with the bodies they feel such affection for. When
the results of such actions bear fruit, our bodies will
have to break up and disband in the same way.
Considering
things in this manner caused me to feel even more attracted
to the practical methods recommended by the Buddha for
seeing not-self and letting go of our clinging assumptions
so that we no longer have to be possessive of the treasures
claimed by ignorant and fixated animals. If we persist in
holding onto the body as our own, it's the same as cheating
others of their belongings, turning them into our own flesh
and blood and then, forgetting where these things came from,
latching onto them as our very own. When this happens, we're
like a child who, born in one family and then taken and
raised in another family with a different language, is sure
to forget his original language and family name. If someone
comes along and calls him by his original name, he most
likely won't stand for it, because of his ignorance of his
own origins. So it is with the body: Once it has grown, we
latch onto it, assuming it to be the self. We forget its
origins and so become drugged, addicted to physical and
mental phenomena, enduring pain for countless lifetimes.
These thoughts
are what led me to start practicing the teachings of the
Buddha so as to liberate myself from this mass of suffering
and stress.
There are seven
basic steps:
1. Start
out with three or seven long in-and-out breaths, thinking
bud- with the in-breath, and dho with the out.
Keep the meditation syllable as long as the breath.
2. Be
clearly aware of each in-and-out breath.
3.
Observe the breath as it goes in and out, noticing whether
it's comfortable or uncomfortable, broad or narrow,
obstructed or free-flowing, fast or slow, short or long,
warm or cool. If the breath doesn't feel comfortable, change
it until it does. For instance, if breathing in long and out
long is uncomfortable, try breathing in short and out short.
As soon as you
find that your breathing feels comfortable, let this
comfortable breath sensation spread to the different parts
of the body. To begin with, inhale the breath sensation at
the base of the skull, and let it flow all the way down the
spine. Then, if you are male, let it spread down your right
leg to the sole of your foot, to the ends of your toes, and
out into the air. Inhale the breath sensation at the base of
the skull again and let it spread down your spine, down your
left leg to the ends of your toes and out into the air. (If
you are female, begin with the left side first, because the
male and female nervous systems are different.)
Then let the
breath from the base of the skull spread down over both
shoulders, past your elbows and wrists, to the tips of your
fingers and out into the air.
Let the breath
at the base of the throat spread down the central nerve at
the front of the body, past the lungs and liver, all the way
down to the bladder and colon.
Inhale the
breath right at the middle of the chest and let it go all
the way down to your intestines.
Let all these
breath sensations spread so that they connect and flow
together, and you'll feel a greatly improved sense of
well-being.
4. Learn
four ways of adjusting the breath:
a. in long
and out long,
b. in long and out short,
c. in short and out long,
d. in short and out short.
Breathe
whichever way is most comfortable for you. Or, better yet,
learn to breathe comfortably all four ways, because your
physical condition and your breath are always changing.
5.
Become acquainted with the bases or focal points for the
mind the resting spots of the breath and center your
awareness on whichever one seems most comfortable. A few of
these bases are:
a. the tip of
the nose,
b. the middle of the head,
c. the palate,
d. the base of the throat,
e. the breastbone (the tip of the sternum),
f. the navel (or a point just above it).
If you suffer
from frequent headaches or nervous problems, don't focus on
any spot above the base of the throat. And don't try to
force the breath or put yourself into a trance. Breathe
freely and naturally. Let the mind be at ease with the
breath but not to the point where it slips away.
6.
Spread your awareness your sense of conscious feeling
throughout the entire body.
7. Unite
the breath sensations throughout the body, letting them flow
together comfortably, keeping your awareness as broad as
possible. Once you are fully aware of the aspects of the
breath you already know in your body, you'll come to know
all sorts of other aspects as well. The breath, by its
nature, has many facets: breath sensations flowing in the
nerves, those flowing around and about the nerves, those
spreading from the nerves to every pore. Beneficial breath
sensations and harmful ones are mixed together by their very
nature.
To summarize:
(a) for the sake of improving the energy already existing in
every part of your body, so that you can contend with such
things as disease and pain; and (b) for the sake of
clarifying the knowledge already within you, so that it can
become a basis for the skills leading to release and purity
of heart you should always bear these seven steps in mind,
because they are absolutely basic to every aspect of breath
meditation. When you've mastered them, you will have cut a
main road. As for the side roads the incidentals of breath
meditation there are plenty of them, but they aren't
really important. You'll be perfectly safe if you stick to
these seven steps and practice them as much as possible.
* * *
Now we will
summarize the methods of breath meditation under the
headings of jhana.
Jhana means to
be absorbed or focused in a single object or preoccupation,
as when we deal with the breath.
1. The first
jhana has five factors: (a) Directed thought (vitakka):
Think of the breath until you can recognize it clearly
without getting distracted. (b) Singleness of object (ekaggatarammana):
Keep the mind with the breath. Don't let it stray after
other objects. Watch over your thoughts so that they deal
only with the breath to the point where the breath becomes
comfortable. (The mind becomes one, at rest with the
breath.) (c) Evaluation (vicara): Gain a sense of how
to let this comfortable breath sensation spread and
co-ordinate with the other breath sensations in the body.
Let these breath sensations spread until they all merge.
Once the body has been soothed by the breath, feelings of
pain will grow calm. The body will be filled with good
breath energy. (The mind is focused exclusively on issues
connected with the breath.)
These three
qualities must be brought together to bear on the same
stream of breathing for the first jhana to arise. This
stream of breathing can then take you all the way to the
fourth jhana.
Directed
thought, singleness of object and evaluation act as the
causes. When the causes are fully ripe, results will appear
(d) rapture (piti): a compelling sense of fullness
and refreshment for body and mind, going straight to the
heart, independent of all else. (e) Pleasure (sukha):
physical ease arising from the body's being still and
unperturbed (kaya-passaddhi); mental contentment
arising from the mind's being at ease on its own,
unperturbed, serene and exultant (citta-passaddhi).
Rapture and
pleasure are the results. The factors of the first jhana
thus come down simply to two sorts: causes and results.
As rapture and
pleasure grow stronger, the breath becomes more subtle. The
longer you stay focused and absorbed, the more powerful the
results become. This enables you to set directed thought and
evaluation (the preliminary ground-clearing) aside, and
relying completely on a single factor, singleness of object
you enter the second jhana (magga-citta, phala-citta).
2. The
second jhana has three factors: rapture, pleasure and
singleness of object (magga-citta). This refers to
the state of mind that has tasted the results coming from
the first jhana. Once you have entered the second level,
rapture and pleasure become stronger because they rely on a
single cause, singleness of object, which looks after the
work from here on in: focusing on the breath so that it
becomes more and more refined, keeping steady and still with
a sense of refreshment and ease for both body and mind. The
mind is even more stable and intent than before. As you
continue focusing, rapture and pleasure become stronger and
begin to expand and contract. Continue focusing on the
breath, moving the mind deeper to a more subtle level to
escape the motions of rapture and pleasure, and you enter
the third jhana.
3. The third
jhana has two factors: pleasure and singleness of
object. The body is quiet, motionless and solitary. No
feelings of pain arise to disturb it. The mind is solitary
and still. The breath is refined, free-flowing and broad. A
radiance white like cotton wool pervades the entire
body, stilling all feelings of physical and mental
discomfort. Keep focused on looking after nothing but the
broad, refined breath. The mind is free: No thoughts of past
or future disturb it. The mind stands out on its own. The
four properties earth, water, fire and wind are in
harmony throughout the body. You could almost say that
they're pure throughout the entire body, because the breath
has the strength to control and take good care of the other
properties, keeping them harmonious and coordinated.
Mindfulness is coupled with singleness of object, which acts
as the cause. The breath fills the body. Mindfulness fills
the body.
Focus on in:
The mind is bright and powerful, the body is light. Feelings
of pleasure are still. Your sense of the body feels steady
and even, with no slips or gaps in your awareness, so you
can let go of your sense of pleasure. The manifestations of
pleasure grow still, because the four properties are
balanced and free from motion. Singleness of object, the
cause, has the strength to focus more heavily down, taking
you to the fourth jhana.
4. The
fourth jhana has two factors: equanimity (upekkha)
and singleness of object, or mindfulness. Equanimity and
singleness of object on the fourth jhana are powerfully
focused solid, stable and sure. The breath element is
absolutely quiet, free from ripples and gaps. The mind,
neutral and still, lets go of all preoccupations with past
and future. The breath, which forms the present, is still,
like the ocean or air when they are free from currents or
waves. You can know distant sights, and sounds, because the
breath is even and unwavering, and so acts like a movie
screen, giving a clear reflection of whatever is projected
onto it. Knowledge arises in the mind: You know but stay
neutral and still. The mind is neutral and still; the
breath, neutral and still; past, present and future are all
neutral and still. This is true singleness of object,
focused on the unperturbed stillness of the breath. All
parts of the breath in the body connect so that you can
breathe through every pore. You don't have to breathe
through the nostrils, because the in-and-out breath and the
other aspects of the breath in the body form a single,
unified whole. All aspects of the breath energy are even and
full. The four properties all have the same characteristics.
The mind is completely still.
The focus is
strong; the light, aglow.
This is to know the great frame of reference.
The mind is beaming and bright
like the light of the sun,
which unobstructed by clouds or haze,
illumines the earth with its rays.
The mind sheds
light in all directions. The breath is radiant, the mind
fully radiant, due to the focusing of mindfulness.
The focus is
strong; the light, aglow... The mind has power and
authority. All four of the frames of reference are gathered
into one. There is no sense that, 'That's the body... That's
a feeling... That's the mind... That's a mental quality.'
There's no sense that they're four, This is thus called the
great frame of reference, because none of the four are in
any way separate.
The mind is
firmly intent,
centered and true,
due to the strength of its focus.
Mindfulness and
alertness converge into one: This is what is meant by the
one path (ekayana-magga) the concord among the
properties and frames of reference, four in one, giving rise
to great energy and wakefulness, the purifying inner fire
(tapas) that can thoroughly dispel all obscuring
darkness.
As you focus
more strongly on the radiance of the mind, the power that
comes from letting go of all preoccupations enables the mind
to stand alone. You're like a person who has climbed to the
top of a mountain and has the right to see in all
directions. The mind's dwelling the breath, which supports
the mind's freedom is in a heightened state, so the mind
is able to see all things fashioned (sankhara)
clearly in terms of the Dhamma: as properties (dhatu),
khandhas, and sense media (ayatana). Just as a
person who has taken a camera up in an airplane can take
pictures of practically everything below, so a person who
has reached this stage (lokavidu) can see the world
and the Dhamma as they truly are.
In addition,
awareness of another sort, in the area of the mind called
liberating insight, or the skill of release also appears.
The elements or properties of the body acquire potency (kaya-siddhi);
the mind, resilient power. When you want knowledge of the
world or the Dhamma, focus the mind heavily and forcefully
on the breath. As the concentrated power of the mind strikes
the pure element, intuitive knowledge will spring up in that
element, just as the needle of a record player, as it
strikes a record, will give rise to sounds. Once your
mindfulness is focused on a pure object, then if you want
images, images will appear; if sounds, sounds will arise,
whether near or far, matters of the world or the Dhamma,
concerning yourself or others, past, present or future
whatever you want to know. As you focus down, think of what
you want to know, and it will appear. This is ρana
intuitive sensitivity capable of knowing past, present and
future an important level of awareness that you can know
only for yourself. The elements are like radio waves going
through the air. If your mind and mindfulness are strong,
and your skills highly developed, you can use those elements
to put yourself in touch with the entire world, so that
knowledge can arise within you.
When you have
mastered the fourth jhana, it can act as the basis for eight
skills:
1.
Vipassana-ρana: clear intuitive insight into mental
and physical phenomena as they arise, remain and disband.
This is a special sort of insight, coming solely from
training the mind. It can occur in two ways: (a) knowing
without ever having thought of the matter; and (b) knowing
from having thought of the matter but not after a great
deal of thought, as in the case of ordinary knowledge.
Think for an instant and it immediately becomes clear
just as a piece of cotton wool soaked in gasoline, when
you hold a match to it, bursts immediately into flame. The
intuition and insight here are that fast, and so differ
from ordinary discernment.
2.
Manomayiddhi: the ability to use the mind to influence
events.
3.
Iddhividhi: the ability to display supra-normal
powers, e.g., creating images in certain instances that
certain groups of people will be able to see.
4.
Dibbasota: the ability to hear distant sounds.
5.
Cetopariya-ρana: the ability to know the level good
or evil, high or low of other people's minds.
6.
Pubbenivasanussati-ρana: the ability to remember
previous lifetimes. (If you attain this skill, you'll no
longer have to wonder as to whether death is followed by
annihilation or rebirth.)
7.
Dibbacakkhu: the ability to see gross and subtle
images, both near and far.
8.
Asavakkhaya-ρana: the ability to reduce and eliminate
the effluents of defilement in the heart.
These eight
skills come exclusively from the centering the mind, which
is why I have written this condensed guide to concentration
and jhana, based on the technique of keeping the breath in
mind. If you aspire to the good that can come from these
things, you should turn your attention to training your own
heart and mind.
Virtue
There are three
levels of virtue
1.
Hetthima-sila: normalcy of word and deed, which
consists of three kinds of bodily acts not killing, not
stealing, not engaging in sexual misconduct; and four kinds
of speech not lying, not speaking divisively, not saying
anything coarse or abusive, not speaking idly. If we class
virtue on this level according to the wording of the
precepts and the groups of people who observe them, there
are four the five precepts, the eight, the ten, and the
227 precepts. All of these deal with aspects of behavior
that should be abandoned, termed pahana-kicca. At the
same time, the Buddha directed us to develop good manners
and proper conduct in the use of the four necessities of
life food, clothing, shelter, and medicine so that our
conduct in terms of thought, word, and deed will be orderly
and becoming. This aspect is termed bhavana-kicca,
behavior we should work at developing.
Observance of
these precepts or rules dealing merely with words and
deeds forms the lower or preliminary level of virtue,
which is what makes us into full-fledged human beings (manussa-sampatti).
2.
Majjhima-sila: the medium level of virtue, i.e.,
keeping watch over your words and deeds so that they cause
no harm; and, in addition, keeping watch over your thoughts
so as to keep them upright in three ways
a.
Anabhijjha-visamalobha: not coveting things that do not
belong to you and that lie beyond your scope or powers; not
focusing your thoughts on such things; not building what are
called castles in the air. The Buddha taught us to tend to
the wealth we already have so that it can grow on its own.
The wealth we already have, if we use our intelligence and
ingenuity, will draw more wealth our way without our having
to waste time and energy by being covetous or greedy. For
example, suppose we have a single banana tree: If we water
it, give it fertilizer, loosen the soil around its roots,
and guard it in other ways, our single banana tree will
eventually give rise to an increase of other banana trees.
In other words, if we're shrewd we can turn whatever wealth
we have into a basis for a livelihood. But if we lack
intelligence if our hearts simply want to get, without
wanting work then even if we acquire a great deal of
wealth, we won't be able to support ourselves. Thus, greed
of this sort, in which we focus our desires above and beyond
our capacities, is classed as a wrong kind of mental action.
b. Abyapada:
abandoning thoughts of ill will, hatred, and vengeance, and
developing thoughts of benevolence and good will instead;
thinking of the good aspects of the people who have angered
us. When people make us angry, it comes from the fact that
our dealings with them in which we associate with and
assist one another sometimes lead to disappointment. This
gives rise to dislike and irritation, which in turn cause us
to brood, so that we develop hurt feelings that grow into
anger and thoughts of retaliation. Thus we should regard
such people from many angles, for ordinarily as human beings
they should have some good to them. If they don't act
well toward us, they may at least speak well to us. Or if
they don't act or speak well to us, perhaps their thoughts
may be well-meaning to at least some extent. Thus, when you
find your thoughts heading in the direction of anger or
dislike, you should sit down and think in two ways
(1) Try to
think of whatever ways that person has been good to you.
When these things come to mind, they'll give rise to
feelings of affection, love, and good will. This is one way.
(2) Anger is
something worthless, like the scum that floats on the
surface of a lake. If we're stupid, we won't get to drink
the clean water that lies underneath; or if we drink the
scum, we may catch a disease. A person who is bad to you is
like someone sunk in filth. If you're stupid enough to hate
or be angry with such people, it's as if you wanted to go
sit in the filth with them. Is that what you want? Think
about this until any thoughts of ill will and anger
disappear.
c. Samma-ditthi:
abandoning wrong views and mental darkness. If our minds
lack the proper training and education, we may come to think
that we and all other living beings are born simply as
accidents of nature; that 'father' and 'mother' have no
special meaning; that good and evil don't exist. Such views
deviate from the truth. They can dissuade us from
restraining the evil that lies within us and from searching
for and fostering the good. To believe that there's no good
or evil, that death is annihilation, is Wrong View a
product of faulty thinking and poor discernment, seeing
things for what they aren't. So we should abandon such views
and educate ourselves, searching for knowledge of the Dhamma
and associating with people wiser than we, so that they can
show us the proper path. We'll then be able to reform our
views and make them Right, which is one form of mental
uprightness.
Virtue on this
level, when we can maintain it well, will qualify us to be
heavenly beings. The qualities of heavenly beings, which
grow out of human values, will turn us into human beings who
are divine in our virtues, for to guard our thoughts, words,
and deeds means that we qualify for heaven in this lifetime.
This is one aspect of the merit developed by a person who
observes the middle level of virtue.
3.
Uparima-sila: higher virtue, where virtue merges
with the Dhamma in the area of mental activity. There are
two sides to higher virtue
a.
PAHANA-KICCA: qualities to be abandoned, which are of five
sorts
(1)
Kamachanda: affection, desire, laxity, infatuation.
(2)
Byapada: ill will and hatred.
(3)
Thina-middha: discouragement, drowsiness, sloth.
(4)
Uddhacca-kukkucca: restlessness and anxiety.
(5)
Vicikiccha: doubt, uncertainty, indecision.
Discussion
(1) Ill will
(byapada) lies at the essence of killing (panatipata),
for it causes us to destroy our own goodness and that of
others and when our mind can kill off our own goodness,
what's to keep us from killing other people and animals as
well?
(2)
Restlessness (uddhacca) lies at the essence of taking
what is not given (adinnadana). The mind wanders
about, taking hold of other people's affairs, sometimes
their good points, sometimes their bad. To fasten onto their
good points isn't too serious, for it can give us at least
some nourishment. As long as we're going to steal
other people's business and make it our own, we might as
well take their silver and gold. Their bad points, though,
are like trash they've thrown away scraps and bones, with
nothing of any substance and yet even so we let the mind
feed on them. When we know that other people are possessive
of their bad points and guard them well, and yet we still
take hold of these things to think about, it should be
classed as a form of taking what isn't given.
(3) Sensual
desires (kamachanda) lie at the essence of sensual
misconduct. The mind feels an attraction for sensual objects
thoughts of past or future sights, sounds, smells, tastes,
or tactile sensations or for sensual defilements
passion, aversion, or delusion to the point where we
forget ourselves. Mental states such as these can be said to
overstep the bounds of propriety in sensual matters.
(4) Doubt (vicikiccha)
lies at the essence of lying. In other words, our minds are
unsure, with nothing reliable or true to them. We have no
firm principles and so drift along under the influence of
all kinds of thoughts and preoccupations.
(5) Drowsiness
(thina-middha) is intoxication discouragement,
dullness, forgetfulness, with no mindfulness or restraint
watching over the mind. This is what it means to be drugged
or drunk.
All of these
unwise qualities are things we should eliminate by training
the heart along the lines of:
b.
BHAVANA-KICCA: qualities to be developed
(1)
Mindfulness (sati): Start out by thinking of an
object, such as your in-and-out breathing. Use mindfulness
to steady the mind in its object. Vitakka, thinking
in this way, is what kills off sensual desires, in that
the discipline of mindfulness keeps the mind from slipping
off into external objects.
(2) Vicara:
Evaluate and be observant. Make yourself aware of whether
or not you've received a sense of comfort and relaxation
from your breathing. If not, tend to the breath and adjust
it in a variety of ways: e.g., in long and out long, in
long and out short, in short and out short, in short and
out long, in slow and out slow, in fast and out fast, in
gently and out gently, in strong and out strong, in
throughout the body and out throughout the body. Adjust
the breath until it gives good results to both body and
mind, and you'll be able to kill off feelings of ill will
and hatred.
(3) Piti:
When you get good results for instance, when the subtle
breath sensations in the body merge and flow together,
permeating the entire sense of the body the breath is
like an electric wire; the various parts of the body, such
as the bones, are like electricity poles; mindfulness and
self-awareness are like a power source; and awareness is
thus bright and radiant. Both body and mind feel full and
satisfied. This is piti, or rapture, which can kill
off feelings of drowsiness.
(4) Sukha:
Now that feelings of restlessness and anxiety have
disappeared, a sense of pleasure and ease for body and
mind arises. This pleasure is what kills off restlessness.
(5)
Ekaggata: Doubts and uncertainty fade into the
distance. The mind reaches oneness of object in a state of
normalcy and equilibrium. This normalcy of mind, which is
maintained through the power of the discipline of
mindfulness (sati-vinaya), forms the essence of
virtue: firmness, steadiness, stability. And the resulting
flavor or nourishment of virtue is tranquillity,
light-heartedness, and a sense of independence for the
mind. When freedom of this sort arises within us, this is
called the development of silanussati, the
mindfulness of virtue. This is virtue that attains
excellence leading to the paths, their fruitions, and
nibbana and thus can be called uparima-sila,
higher virtue.
To summarize,
there are three levels of virtue: external virtue,
intermediate virtue, and internal virtue. In ultimate terms,
however, there are two
1. Mundane
virtue: virtue connected with the world, in which we
maintain the principles of ordinary human morality but are
as yet unable to reach the transcendent levels:
stream-entry, once-returning, nonreturning, and arahantship.
We can't yet cut the Fetters (sanyojana) that tie the
heart to the influences of all the worlds. This is thus
called mundane virtue.
2.
Transcendent virtue: virtue that's constant and sure,
going straight to the heart, bathing the heart with its
nourishment. This arises from the practice of tranquillity
meditation and insight meditation. tranquillity meditation
forms the cause, and insight meditation the result:
discovering the true nature of the properties, aggregates
(khandhas), and senses; seeing clearly the four Noble
Truths, in proportion to our practice of the Path, and
abandoning the first three of the Fetters
a.
Sakkaya-ditthi (self-identity views): views that see
the body or the aggregates as part of the self or as
belonging to the self. Ordinarily, we may be convinced
that views of this sort are mistaken, yet we can't really
abandon them. But when we clearly see that they're wrong
for sure, this is called Right View seeing things as
they truly are which can eliminate such wrong views as
seeing the body as belonging to the self, or the self as
the five aggregates, or the five aggregates as part of the
self.
b.
Vicikiccha: doubt concerning what's genuine and true,
and what's counterfeit and false. The power of Right View
enables us to see that the quality to which we awaken
exists at all times; and that the true qualities that
cause us to awaken also exist and are made effective
through the power of the practices we're following. Our
knowledge is definite and true. Our doubts concerning the
virtues of the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha are cleared up
for good. This is called becoming a niyata-puggala,
a person who is certain and sure.
c.
Silabbata-paramasa: When the heart abandons this
Fetter, it no longer dotes on theories concerning moral
virtue; it's no longer stuck merely on the level of
manners and actions. Good and evil are accomplished
through the heart; activities and actions are something
separate. Even though people who reach this level do
good taking the precepts, making gifts and offerings, or
meditating in line with the good customs of the world
they're not caught up on any of these things, because
their hearts have reached the nourishment of virtue. They
aren't stuck on the particulars (byaρjana), i.e.,
their actions and activities; nor are they stuck on the
purpose (attha), i.e., the meaning or intent of
their various good manners. Their hearts dwell in the
nourishment of virtue: tranquillity, stability, normalcy
of mind. Just as a person who has felt the nourishment
that comes from food permeating his body isn't stuck on
either the food or its flavor because he's received the
benefits of the nourishment it provides in the same way,
the hearts of people who have reached the essence of
virtue are no longer stuck on actions or manners,
particulars or purposes, because they've tasted virtue's
nourishment.
This is thus
classed as transcendent virtue, the first stage of
nibbana. Even though such people may be destined for
further rebirth, they're apart from the ordinary. Anyone
whose practice reaches this level can be counted as
fortunate, as having received dependable wealth, like ingots
of gold. Just as gold can be used as currency all over the
world because it has special value for all human beings
unlike paper currency, whose use is limited to specific
countries in the same way, a heart that's truly attained
virtue has a value in this life that will remain constant in
lives to come. Thus, a person who has reached this level has
received part of the Noble Wealth of those who practice the
religion.
Concentration
Concentration
has three levels
1.
Kamavacara-khanika-samadhi: (momentary concentration
in the sensory realm): The mind keeps thinking, coming to
rest, and running along after worthwhile preoccupations
either internal or external on the sensory level (kamavacara-kusala):
sights, sounds, smells, flavors, tactile sensations, or
ideas. An example of this is when the mind becomes quiet and
rested for a moment as we sit listening to a sermon or
chanting. In other words, the mind grows still for momentary
periods in the same way that a person walks: One foot takes
a step while the other foot rests on the ground, providing
the energy needed to reach one's goal. This is thus called
momentary concentration, something possessed by people all
over the world. Whether or not we practice concentration,
the mind is always behaving this way by its very nature.
This is called the 'bhavanga-citta' or 'bhavanga-pada':
The mind stops for a moment and then moves on. In developing
higher levels of concentration, we have to start out with
this ordinary level as our basis. Otherwise, the higher
levels probably wouldn't be possible. Still, this level of
concentration can't be used as a basis for discernment,
which is why we have to go further in our practice.
2.
Rupavacara-upacara-samadhi (threshold concentration
in the realm of form): This refers to the first jhana, in
which the mind comes inward to rest on a single
preoccupation within the body, fixing its attention, for
example, on the in-and-out breath. When the mind stays with
its one object, this is called ekaggata. At the same
time, there's mindfulness keeping the breath in mind: This
is called vitakka. The mind then adjusts and expands
the various aspects of the breath throughout the entire
body, evaluating them mindfully with complete
circumspection: This is called self-awareness (sampajaρρa)
or vicara, which is the factor aware of causes and
results. Mindfulness, the cause, is what does the work. Thus
vitakka and vicara cooperate in focusing on
the same topic. We are then aware of the results as they
arise feelings of fullness, pleasure, and ease (piti
and sukha) for body and mind. At this point, the mind
lets down its burdens to rest for a while, like a person
walking along who meets with something pleasing and
attractive, and so stops to look: Both feet are standing
still, stepping neither forward nor back.
If we aren't
skilled enough to go on any further, we will then retreat.
If we see results such as signs and visions arising in
the mind, we may get excited and so cause our original
preoccupation to waver or fade. Like a person sitting on a
chair: If he sees something appealing in front of him, he
may become so interested that he leans forward and reaches
out his hand; he may even begin to budge a bit from his seat
or stand up completely. In the same way, if we get engrossed
in visions, thoughts, or views when we're engaged in
threshold concentration, we can become excited and pleased
we may even think that we've reached the transcendent and
this can cause our concentration to degenerate. If we try to
do it again and can't, we may then seize the opportunity to
say that we've gone beyond the practice of concentration, so
that we can now take the way of discernment thinking,
pondering, and letting go in line with nothing more than our
own views and ideas. This, though, is not likely to succeed,
because our knowledge has no firm basis or core, like a
wheel with no axle or hub: How can it get anywhere? The
power of threshold concentration, if we don't watch after it
well, is bound to deteriorate, and we'll be left with
nothing but old, left-over concepts.
3.
Rupavacara-appana-samadhi (fixed penetration in the
realm of form): This refers to the practice of all four
levels of rupa jhana. The first jhana has five factors:
thinking, evaluating, fullness, pleasure, and singleness of
object. The second level has three: fullness, pleasure, and
singleness of object. The third has two: pleasure and
singleness of object; and the fourth has two: equanimity and
singleness of object.
Discussion
Fixed
penetration in the realm of form means that the mind focuses
on the internal sense of the body, remaining steadily with a
single object such as the in-and-out breath until it
reaches jhana, beginning with the first level, which is
composed of thinking, evaluating, fullness, pleasure, and
singleness of object. When you see results arising, focus in
on those results and they will then turn into the second
level, which has three factors: fullness, pleasure and
singleness of object. As your focus becomes stronger, it
causes the sense of fullness to waver, so you can now let go
of that sense of fullness, and your concentration turns into
the third jhana, in which only two factors are left:
pleasure and singleness of object. The mind has few burdens;
its focus is strong and the sense of inner light is radiant.
This causes the feeling of pleasure to waver, so that you
can let go of that sense of pleasure, and the mind attains
oneness in a very subtle preoccupation. The preoccupation
doesn't waver and neither does the mind. It stands firm in
its freedom. This is called equanimity and singleness of
object, which form the fourth jhana. Mindfulness is
powerful. Self-awareness is complete. Both are centered on a
single preoccupation without getting snagged on any other
allusions or perceptions. This mental state is called the
fourth jhana, which has two factors: Equanimity, or
stillness, is the external attitude of the mind; as for the
real factors, they're mindfulness and singleness, steady and
firm.
The mind
experiences a sense of brightness, the radiance that comes
from its state of fixed penetration. Mindfulness and
self-awareness are circumspect and all-round, and so give
rise to skill and proficiency in practicing jhana in
focusing, staying in place, stepping through the various
levels, withdrawing, going back and forth. When the mind
behaves as you want it to, no matter when you practice, only
then does this truly qualify as fixed penetration, the basis
for the arising of three qualities: intuitive knowledge (ρana),
discernment (paρρa), and cognitive skill (vijja).
Intuitive
knowledge here refers to knowledge or sensitivity of an
extraordinary sort. For example
Pubbenivasanussati-ρana: the ability to remember
previous lives.
Cutupapata-ρana: the ability to focus on the death and
rebirth of other living beings sometimes in good
destinations, sometimes in bad together with the causes
that lead them to be reborn in such ways. This gives rise
to a sense of weariness and disenchantment with sensations
and mental acts, body and mind.
Asavakkhaya-ρana: knowing how to put an end to the
defilements of the heart in accordance with the knowledge
the clear vision of the four Noble Truths that
accompanies the particular transcendent path reached. And
there are still other forms of extraordinary knowledge,
such as iddhividhi, the ability to display
supernormal powers, to make an image of oneself appear to
other people; dibbasota, clairaudience;
dibbacakkhu, clairvoyance i.e., the ability to see
objects at tremendous distances.
Discernment
refers to discriminating knowledge, clear comprehension,
knowledge in line with the truth. For example
Attha-patisambhida: acumen with regard to aims and
results; thorough-going comprehension of cause and effect;
knowing, for example, how stress is caused by ignorance
and craving, and how the disbanding of stress is caused by
the intuitive discernment that forms the Path;
comprehending the meaning and aims of the Buddha's various
teachings and knowing how to explain them so that other
people will understand being able, for instance, to
summarize a long passage without distorting its meaning.
Dhamma-patisambhida:
acumen with regard to mental qualities; knowing how to
explain deep and subtle points so that other people will
understand.
Nirutti-patisambhida: acumen with regard to different
languages. According to the texts, this includes knowing
foreign languages and the languages of various other
living beings by means of the eye of discernment (paρρa
cakkhu).
Patibhana-patisambhida: acumen with regard to
expression; being fluent in making explanations and
quick-witted in debate; knowing the most strategic way to
express things.
All of these
forms of discernment can arise from training the mind to
attain fixed penetration. Vijja clear, open
knowledge, free from any further concealments; and aloka
brilliance, radiance streaming out in all directions
enable us to see the true nature of sensations and mental
acts, in accordance with our powers of intuitive
discernment.
Cognitive skill
refers to clear, uncanny knowledge that arises from the
mind's being firmly fixed in jhana. There are eight sorts
(1)
Vipassana-ρana: clear comprehension of physical
sensations and mental acts (rupa, nama).
(2)
Manomayiddhi: psychic powers, influencing events
through the power of thought.
(3)
Iddhividhi: the ability to display powers, making
one's body appear in a variety of ways.
(4)
Dibba-cakkhu: clairvoyance.
(5)
Dibba-sota: clairaudience.
(6)
Cetopariya-ρana: the ability to know the mental states
of other people.
(7)
Pubbenivasanussati-ρana: the ability to remember
previous lives.
(8)
Asavakkhaya-ρana: the ability to put an end to the
effluents that defile the heart.
Thus, jhana on
the level of fixed penetration is extremely important. It
can give us support on all sides on the level of the world
and of the Dhamma and can bring success in our various
activities, both in our worldly affairs and in our Dhamma
duties, leading us on to the transcendent.
To summarize,
there are two kinds of concentration:
1. That which
gives rise to mundane knowledge: This is termed mundane
concentration.
2. That which
helps us to fulfill our duties on the level of the Dhamma,
leading to vipassana-ρana or asavakkhaya-ρana,
the knowledge that enables us in accordance with the
discernment and insight that arise to abandon or cut off
completely the mental tendencies that lean in the
direction of the Fetters: This is termed transcendent
concentration.
Discernment
Discernment is
of three kinds
1.
Sutamaya-paρρa: discernment that comes from studying.
2.
Cintamaya-paρρa: discernment that comes from
reflecting.
3.
Bhavanamaya-paρρa: discernment that comes from
developing the mind.
Discussion
l.
Sutamaya-paρρa refers to the discernment that comes
from having listened a great deal, like the Venerable Ananda.
Listening here, though, includes studying and taking
interest in a variety of ways: paying attention, taking
notes, asking questions, and taking part in discussions so
as to become quick-witted and astute.
Education of
all kinds comes down to two sorts: (a) learning the basic
units, such as the letters of the alphabet, their sound and
pronunciation, so as to understand their accepted usage; and
(b) learning how to put them together for instance, how to
combine the letters so as to give rise to words and meanings
as when we complete our elementary education so that we
won't be at a loss when we're called on to read and write in
the course of making a living.
In the area of
the religion, we have to study the letters of the Pali
alphabet, their combinations, their meanings, and their
pronunciation. If we don't understand clearly, we should
take an interest in asking questions. If we have trouble
memorizing, we should take an interest in jotting down notes
as a way of aiding our memory and expanding our concepts. In
addition, we have to study by means of our senses. For
example, when we see a visual object, we should find out its
truth. When we hear sounds or words, we should find out
their truth. When we smell an aroma, we should consider it
to see what it comes from. We should take an interest in
flavors so that we know what they come from, and in tactile
sensations the heat and cold that touch the body by
studying such things as the way weather behaves.
All of these
forms of education are ways of giving rise to astuteness
both in the area of the world and in the area of the Dhamma
because they constitute a basic level of knowledge, like
the primary education offered in schools.
2.
Cintamaya-paρρa refers to thinking and evaluating so
as to learn the meaning and truth of one's beginning
education. This level of education draws out the meaning of
the knowledge we have gained through studying. When we gain
information, we should reflect on it until we understand it
so that we will be led by our sense of reason and not by
gullibility or ignorance. This is like a person who has used
his knowledge of the alphabet to gain knowledge from books
to complete his secondary education. Such a person has
reached the level where he can think things through clearly.
In the area of
the Dhamma, the same holds true. Once we have learned the
basics, we should research and think through the content of
the Teaching until we give rise to an understanding so that
we can conduct ourselves correctly in line with the methods
and aims taught by the sages of the past. This level of
discernment is what prepares us to conduct ourselves
properly in line with the true essence of the Doctrine and
Discipline. This is classed as an aspect of pariyatti
dhamma, Dhamma on the level of theory. By learning the
language and meaning of the Teaching, we can become astute
as far as theory is concerned; but if we don't use that
knowledge to train ourselves, it's as if we studied a
profession such as law but then went out to become
bandits, so that our knowledge wouldn't give its proper
results. For this reason, we've been taught still another
method, which is the well-spring of discernment or mastery
i.e., the mental activity termed bhavanamaya-paρρa.
3.
Bhavanamaya-paρρa: discernment that arises
exclusively from the practice of concentration. In other
words, this level of discernment isn't related to the old
observations we have gained from the past, because our old
observations are bound to obscure the new observations,
endowed with the truth, that can arise only right at the
mind. When you engage in this form of practice, focus
exclusively on the present, taking note of a single thing,
not getting involved with past or future. Steady the mind,
bringing it into the present. Gather virtue, concentration,
and discernment all into the present. Think of your
meditation object and bring your powers of evaluation to
bear on it say, by immersing mindfulness in the body,
focusing on such objects as the in-and-out breath. When you
do this, knowledge will arise.
'Ρanam
udapadi': Intuitive knowledge of things we have never
before studied or known will appear. For example:
pubbenivasanussati-ρana the ability to remember our
present life and past lives; cutupapata-ρana the
ability to know living beings as they die and are reborn
well or poorly, happily or miserably knowing the causes
and results of how they fare; asavakkhaya-ρana the
ability to cleanse ourselves of the effluents that defile
the mind, thinning them out or eliminating them altogether,
as we are able. These three forms of knowledge don't arise
for people who simply study or think things through in
ordinary ways. They form a mental skill that arises from the
practice of concentration and are an aspect of Dhamma on the
level of practice (patipatti-dhamma).
Another aspect
'paρρa udapadi': Clear discernment of the true
nature of the properties (dhatu), aggregates, and
sense media arises. We can focus on these things by way of
the mind and know them in terms of the four Noble Truths:
stress (dukkha), which arises from a cause (samudaya),
i.e., ignorance and craving; and then nirodha, the
ceasing and disbanding of stress, which occurs as the result
of a cause, i.e., the Path (magga), composed of
practices for the mind. These things can be known by means
of the discernment that arises exclusively and directly
within us and is termed the eye of discernment or the eye of
Dhamma: the eye of the mind, awakening from its slumbers.
'Vijja
udapadi': The eight forms of cognitive skill, which
follow the laws of cause and effect means of practice that
bring us results can arise in a quiet mind.
'Aloko
udapadi': Brightness, clarity, relief, and emptiness
arise in such a mind.
Thus, the
discernment that results from developing the mind differs
from the beginning stages of discernment that come from
studying and reflecting. Study and reflection are classed as
Dhamma on the level of theory, and can give only a
preliminary level of knowledge. They're like a person who
has awakened but has yet to open his eyes. The discernment
that comes from developing the mind, though, is like waking
up and seeing the truth past, present, and future in all
four directions. We can clearly see stress, its cause, its
disbanding, and the Path to its disbanding, and so can
abandon the first set of Fetters. Our hearts will then flow
to nibbana, just as the water in a mountain cataract
is sure to flow to the sea. Our hearts will flow to their
natural truth: the mental fullness and completeness of a
person who has practiced mental development until
discernment arises within. We will meet with a special form
of wisdom transcendent wisdom whose power will stay with
us always, a quality that's certain and sure, termed certain
truth, certain wisdom, making us people certain for
nibbana.
So this level
of discernment termed the discernment of liberating
insight is especially important. It arises on its own, not
from cogitating along the lines of old concepts we've
learned, but from abandoning them. Old concepts are what
obscure the new knowledge ready to arise.
The nature of
liberating insight is like an electric light: Simply press
the switch once, and things all around are made bright. In
the same way, when the mind reaches a stage of readiness,
insight will arise in a single mental instant, and
everything will become clear: properties, aggregates, and
the sense media. We'll know, on the one hand, what's
inconstant (aniccam), stressful (dukkham), and
not-self (anatta); and on the other hand, what's
uncommon, i.e., niccam what's constant and true;
sukham true happiness, termed niramisa-sukha;
and atta the self. The eye of the mind can know
both sides and let go both ways. It's attached neither to
what's inconstant, stressful, and not-self; nor to what's
constant (niccam), good (sukham), and right
(atta). It can let these things go, in line with their
true nature. The knowledge that comes from discernment,
cognitive skill, and intuitive insight, it can let go as
well. It isn't attached to views for there's yet another,
separate sort of reality that has no 'this' or 'that.' In
other words, it has no sense of 'I.' It lets go of the
assumptions that, 'That's the self,' 'That's not the self,'
'That's constant,' 'That's inconstant,' 'That arises,' 'That
doesn't arise.' It can let go of these things completely.
That's the Dhamma, and yet it doesn't hold onto the
Dhamma, which is why we say that the Dhamma is not-self. It
also doesn't hold on to the view that says, 'not-self.' It
lets go of views, causes, and effects, and isn't attached to
anything at all dealing with wordings or meanings,
conventions or practices.
This, then, is
discernment that arises from the development of the mind.
To conclude:
The discernment that comes from studying and reflecting is
classed as Dhamma on the level of theory. The discernment
that comes from developing the mind is classed as Dhamma on
the level of practice. The results that arise are two
1. Mundane
discernment: comprehension of the world and the Dhamma
falling under mundane influences and subject to change.
2.
Transcendent discernment: awareness that goes beyond the
ordinary, giving rise to clear realization within. People
who reach this level are said to have awakened and opened
their eyes, which is what is meant by 'Buddho.'
Dhamma Talks
Insight isn't
something that can be taught. It's something you have to
give rise to within yourself. It's not something you simply
memorize and talk about. If we were to teach it just so we
could memorize it, I can guarantee that it wouldn't take
five hours. But if you wanted to understand one word of it,
three years might not even be enough. Memorizing gives
rise simply to memories. Acting is what gives rise to the
truth. This is why it takes effort and persistence for
you to understand and master this skill on your own.
When insight
arises, you'll know what's what, where it's come from, and
where it's going as when we see a lantern burning
brightly: We know that, 'That's the flame... That's the
smoke.. That's the light.' We know how these things arise
from mixing what with what, and where the flame goes when we
put out the lantern. All of this is the skill of insight.
Some people say
that tranquillity meditation and insight meditation are two
separate things but how can that be true? tranquillity
meditation is 'stopping,' insight meditation is 'thinking'
that leads to clear knowledge. When there's clear knowledge,
the mind stops still and stays put. They're all part of the
same thing.
Knowing has to
come from stopping. If you don't stop, how can you know? For
instance, if you're sitting in a car or a boat that is
traveling fast and you try to look at the people or things
passing by right next to you along the way, you can't see
clearly who's who or what's what. But if you stop still in
one place, you'll be able to see things clearly.
Or even closer
to home: When we speak, there has to be a pause between each
phrase. If you tried to talk without any pauses at all,
would anyone be able to understand what you said?
This is why we
first have to make the mind stop to be quiet and still. When
the mind stays still in a state of normalcy, concentration
arises and discernment follows. This is something you have
to work at and do for yourself. Don't simply believe what
others say. Get so that you know 'Oh! Oh! Oh!' from
within, and not just 'Oh? Oh? Oh?' from what people
say. Don't take the good things they say and stick them
in your heart. You have to make these things your own by
getting them to arise from within you. Spending one dollar
of your own money is better than spending 100 dollars you've
borrowed from someone else. If you use borrowed money, you
have to worry because you're in debt. If you use your own
money, there's nothing to worry about.
Stopping is
what gives rise to strength. If a man is walking or running,
he can't put up a good fight with anyone, because the
advantage lies with the person standing still, not with the
person walking or running. This is why we're taught to make
the mind stop still so that it can gain strength. Then it
will be able to start walking again with strength and
agility.
It's true that
we have two feet, but when we walk we have to step with one
foot at a time. If you try to step with both feet at once,
you won't get anywhere. Or if you try to walk with just one
foot, you can't do that either. When the right foot stops,
the left foot has to take a step. When the left foot stops,
the right foot has to take a step. You have to stop with one
foot and step with the other if you're going to walk with
any strength because the strength comes from the foot that
has stopped, not from the foot taking a step. One side has
to stop while the other side takes a step. Otherwise, you'll
have no support and are sure to fall down. If you don't
believe me, try stepping with both feet at once and see how
far you get.
In the same
way, tranquillity and insight have to go together. You first
have to make the mind stop in tranquillity and then take a
step in your investigation: This is insight meditation. The
understanding that arises is discernment. To let go of your
attachment to that understanding is release.
So stopping is
the factor that gives rise to strength, knowledge, and
discernment the fixed mind that knows both the world and
the Dhamma in a state of heightened virtue, heightened
consciousness, and heightened discernment leading on to the
transcendent.
* * *
To get full
results from our meditation, the mind has to give the
orders. Mindfulness is what does the work and assists in the
progress of all our activities, while alertness is what
observes the results of what we've done. To speak in terms
of the frames of reference, these qualities are called
mindfulness and alertness. To speak in terms of jhana,
they're called directed thought and evaluation. They're the
qualities that give rise to discernment.
Discernment
comes from observing causes and effects. If we know effects
without knowing causes, that doesn't qualify as discernment.
If we know causes without knowing effects, that doesn't
qualify, either. We have to know both of them together with
our mindfulness and alertness. This is what qualifies as
all-around knowing in the full sense of the term.
The all-around
knowing that arises within us comes from causes and effects,
not from what we read in books, hear other people tell us,
or conjecture on our own. Suppose we have some silver coins
in our pocket. If all we know is that other people tell us
it's money, we don't know its qualities. But if we
experiment with it and put it in a smelter to see what it's
made of and to see how it can be made into other things,
that's when we'll know its true qualities. This is the kind
of knowledge that comes from our own actions. This
knowledge, when we meditate, comes in five forms. We find
within ourselves that some things are caused by the
properties of the body, some are caused by the mind, some
causes come from the mind but have an effect on the body,
some causes come from the body but have an effect on the
mind, some causes come from the body and mind acting
together. This kind of knowledge is discernment. So we have
to learn from virtue, concentration, and discernment by
giving rise to them. If we don't, we'll suffer from
unawareness and delusion.
Mindfulness is
what brings light to the mind, like a candle. If we take a
candle into a room at night, close the windows and doors,
and fill in all the cracks in the walls, no wind from
outside will be able to slip in and make the flame waver.
The flame will give off even more light, and we'll be able
to see everything in the room clearly. Closing the windows
and doors and filling in the cracks means exercising
restraint over our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind,
so that our attention doesn't go straying out after outside
perceptions and preoccupations. This is called restraint
through mindfulness. Our mindfulness will gather into one.
When mindfulness is strong, the results are immediate: a
sense of ease and mental well-being. When mindfulness is
solid and unflagging, our concentration will become
stronger. The mind will be still and upright. Light will
arise in one of two ways: from within ourself or from what's
reflected off the walls. This is why mindfulness is the
cause, the supporting factor, that keeps our concentration
progressing.
* * *
What does
discernment come from? You might compare it with learning to
become a potter, a tailor, or a basket weaver. The teacher
will start out by telling you how to make a pot, sew a shirt
or a pair of pants, or weave different patterns, but the
proportions and beauty of the object you make will have to
depend on your own powers of observation. Suppose you weave
a basket and then take a good look at its proportions, to
see if it's too short or too tall. If it's too short, weave
another one, a little taller, and then take a good look at
it to see if there's anything that still needs improving, to
see if it's too thin or too fat. Then weave another one,
better-looking than the last. Keep this up until you have
one that's as beautiful and well-proportioned as possible,
one with nothing to criticize from any angle. This last
basket you can take as your standard. You can now set
yourself up in business.
What you've
done is to learn from your own actions. As for your previous
efforts, you needn't concern yourself with them any longer.
Throw them out. This is a sense of discernment that arises
of its own accord, an ingenuity and sense of judgment that
come not from anything your teachers have taught you, but
from observing and evaluating on your own the object that
you yourself have made.
The same holds
true in practicing meditation. For discernment to arise, you
have to be observant as you keep track of the breath and to
gain a sense of how to adjust and improve it so that it's
well-proportioned throughout the body to the point where
it flows evenly without faltering, so that it' s comfortable
in slow and out slow, in fast and out fast, long, short,
heavy, or refined. Get so that both the in-breath and the
out-breath are comfortable no matter what way you breathe,
so that no matter when you immediately feel a sense of
ease the moment you focus on the breath. When you can do
this, physical results will appear: a sense of ease and
lightness, open and spacious. The body will be strong, the
breath and blood will flow unobstructed and won't form an
opening for disease to step in. The body will be healthy and
awake.
As for the
mind, when mindfulness and alertness are the causes, a still
mind is the result. When negligence is the cause, a mind
distracted and restless is the result. So we must try to
make the causes good, in order to give rise to the good
results we've referred to. If we use our powers of
observation and evaluation in caring for the breath, and are
constantly correcting and improving it, we'll develop
awareness on our own, the fruit of having developed our
concentration higher step by step.
When the mind
is focused with full circumspection, it can let go of
concepts of the past. It sees the true nature of its old
preoccupations, that there's nothing lasting or certain
about them. As for the future lying ahead of us, it's like
having to sail a small boat across the great wide sea: There
are bound to be dangers on all sides. So the mind lets go of
concepts of the future and comes into the present, seeing
and knowing the present.
The mind
stands firm and doesn't sway.
Unawareness falls away.
Knowledge
arises for an instant and then disappears, so that you can
know that there in the present is a void.
A void.
You don't latch
on to world-fashionings of the past, world-fashionings of
the future, or dhamma-fashionings of the present.
Fashionings disappear. Avijja counterfeit, untrue
awareness disappears. 'True' disappears. All that remains
is awareness: 'buddha... buddha...'
The factor that
fashions the body, i.e., the breath; the factors that
fashion speech, i.e., thoughts that formulate words; and the
factor that fashions the mind, i.e., thinking, all
disappear. But awareness doesn't disappear. When the factor
that fashions the body moves, you're aware of it. When the
factor that fashions speech moves, you're aware of it. When
the factor that fashions the mind moves, you're aware of it,
but awareness isn't attached to anything it knows. In other
words, no fashionings can affect it. There's simply
awareness. At a thought, the mind appears, fashionings
appear. If you want to use them, there they are. If not,
they disappear on their own, by their very nature. Awareness
is above everything else. This is release.
Meditators have
to reach this sort of awareness if they're to get good
results. In training the mind, this is all there is.
Complications are a lot of fuss and bother, and tend to bog
down without ever getting to the real point.
In using the
mind as a frame of reference, there are three aspects to
deal with:
A. The mind
inside.
B. The mind outside.
C. The mind in and of itself.
'The mind
inside' refers to a state exclusively in the heart when it
isn't involved with any outer preoccupations. 'The mind
outside' refers to its interaction with such outer
preoccupations as sights, sounds, etc. 'The mind in and of
itself' refers to the act of singling out any aspect of the
mind as it appears, whether inside or out.
As for the
modes of the mind inside, there are three
1.
Raga-citta: a mental state infused with desire or
passion.
2.
Dosa-citta: a sense of inner irritation and
displeasure.
3.
Moha-citta: a cloudy, murky or confused state of mind,
in which it is unable to consider anything; in short,
delusion.
The mind
outside is divided into the same three aspects states of
passion, irritation and delusion but these are said to be
'outside' because once any of these aspects arises, it tends
to go out and latch onto an outer preoccupation that simply
serves to further aggravate the original state of passion,
irritation or delusion. The mind then doesn't clearly or
truly understand its objects. Its knowledge goes off in
various directions, away from the truth: seeing beauty, for
instance, in things that aren't beautiful, constancy in
things that are inconstant, pleasure in things that are
painful, and self in things that are not-self.
All of these
things are aspects of the mind outside.
'The mind in
and of itself' refers to the act of singling out any one of
these aspects of the mind. For example, sometimes passion
arises, sometimes anger, sometimes delusion: Whichever
aspect may be arising in the present, single it out. With
your alertness firmly in place, be mindful of that aspect of
the mind, without making reference to any other objects
and without letting any hopes or wants arise in that
particular mental moment at all. Then focus unwaveringly on
investigating that state of mind until you know its truth.
The truth of these states is that sometimes, once they've
arisen, they flare up and spread; sometimes they die away.
Their nature is to arise for a moment and then dissolve away
with nothing of any substance or worth. When you are intent
on examining things in this way with your mindfulness,
alertness, and powers of focused investigation firmly in
place then none of these defilements, even though they may
be appearing, will have the chance to grow or spread. This
is like the baskets or jars used to cover new lettuce
plants: If no one removes the baskets, the plants will never
have a chance to grow, and will simply wither away and die.
Thus you have to keep your alertness right with each mental
state as it arises. Keep mindfulness constantly referring to
its object, and use your powers of focused investigation to
burn into those defilements so as to keep them away from the
heart at all times.
To put this
another way, all of the mental states mentioned above are
like lettuce or green-gram seeds. Mindfulness is like a
basket. Alertness is the person who scatters the seeds,
while the power of focused investigation is the heat of the
sun that burns them up.
So far, we have
mentioned only bad mental states. Their opposites are good
mental states: viraga-citta the mind free from the
grip of passion; adosa-citta the mind free from the
annoyance or anger that can lead to loss and ruin; amoha-citta
the mind free from delusion, intoxication and
misunderstandings. These are skillful states of mind (kusala-citta),
which form the root of all that is good. When they arise,
maintain them and observe them so that you can come to know
the level of your mind.
There are four
levels of good mental states
1.
Kamavacara-bhumi: the level of sensuality.
2.
Rupavacara-bhumi: the level of form.
3.
Arupavacara-bhumi: the level of formlessness.
4.
Lokuttara-bhumi: the transcendent level.
1. The level of
sensuality: A mental state arises and connects with a
wholesome object any sight, sound, smell, taste, tactile
sensation or idea that can form the basis for skillful
mental states. When it meets with its object, it becomes
happy, joyful, and glad. (Here we're referring only to those
sensory objects that are good for the mind.) If you were to
refer to the Heavens of Sensual Bliss as they appear within
each of us, the list would run as follows: Sights that can
form the basis for skillful mental states are one level,
sounds are another, and same with smells, tastes, tactile
sensations and ideas. Together they form the six levels of
heaven on the sensual level.
2. The level of
form: A mental state arises from thinking about (vitakka)
a physical object that serves as the theme of one's
meditation; and then analyzing (vicara) the object
into its various aspects, at the same time making sure that
the mind doesn't slip away from the object (ekaggatarammana).
When the mind and its object are one in this way, the object
becomes light. The mind is unburdened and can relax its
sense of concern. Rapture (piti) and ease (sukha)
arise as a result. When these five factors appear in the
mind, it has entered the first jhana the beginning stage
in the level of form.
3. The level of
formlessness: The mind lets go of its physical object on the
level of form, but is still attached to a very subtle mental
notion the jhana of unbounded space, for instance, in
which you are focused on a sense of emptiness and awareness
with no physical object or image passing into your field of
attention, so that you are unable to know its full range.
What has actually happened is that you have curled up and
are hiding inside. This isn't the kind of 'going in to know'
that comes from finishing your work. It's the 'going in to
know' that comes from wanting to run away. You've seen the
faults of what arises outside you, but haven't seen that
they really lie buried within you so you've hidden inside
by limiting the field of your attention.
Some people,
when they reach this point, believe that they have done away
with defilement, because they mistake the emptiness for
nibbana. Actually, it's only the first stage in the level of
formlessness, and so is still on the mundane level.
If you
seriously want to know whether your mind is on the mundane
or the transcendent level, then observe it when you turn
your awareness inward and make it still when you feel a
sense of peace and ease that seems to have no defilements
adulterating it at all. Let go of that mental state, to see
how it behaves on its own. If defilements can reappear,
you're still on the mundane level. Sometimes that mental
state remains unchanged through the power of your own
efforts, but after a while you become unsure of your
knowledge. Your mind has to keep fondling, i.e., making a
running commentary on it. When this is the case, don't go
believing that your knowledge is in any way true.
There are many,
many kinds of knowledge: The intellect knows, the heart
knows, the mind knows, consciousness knows, discernment
knows, alertness knows, awareness knows, unawareness knows.
All these modes are based on knowledge; they differ simply
in how they know. If you aren't able to distinguish clearly
among the different modes of knowing, knowing can become
confused and so you might take wrong knowing to be right
knowing, or unawareness to be awareness, or knowledge
attached to suppositions (sammuti) to be freedom from
suppositions (vimutti). Thus you should experiment
and examine things carefully from all angles so that you can
come to see for yourself which kind of knowledge is genuine,
and which is counterfeit. Counterfeit knowledge, merely
knows, but can't let go. Genuine knowledge, when it goes
about knowing anything, is bound to let go.
All three
levels of the mind discussed so far are on the mundane
level.
4. The
transcendent level: This begins with the path and fruition
of entry into the stream to nibbana. Those who reach this
level have begun by following the threefold training of
virtue, concentration and discernment on the mundane level,
but then have gone on to gain their first true insight into
the four Noble Truths, enabling them to free themselves from
the first three Fetters (sanyojana). Their minds are
thus released into the stream to nibbana. The three Fetters
are
a.
Self-identification (sakkaya-ditthi): the view that
leads us to believe that the body is our own.
b.
Doubt (vicikiccha): the uncertainty that leads us
to be unsure of the good we believe in i.e., of how much
truth there is to the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha.
c.
Attachment to precepts and practices (silabbata-paramasa):
fondling the good that we practice; being attached to
those forms of goodness that are merely external for
instance, observing precepts or practices by clinging
simply to the level of bodily action or speech. Examples
of this attitude include such things as developing virtue
by adhering simply to the precepts; practicing
concentration by simply sitting like a post; not being
able to free yourself from these actions, always holding
onto the goodness that comes from them, happy when you
have the chance to perform them in a particular way, upset
when you don't; thinking, for instance, that virtue is
something you get from monks when they give you the
precepts; that the eight precepts are to be observed only
on certain days and nights, months and years; that you
gain or lose merit simply as a result of external actions
associated with your accustomed beliefs. None of these
attitudes reaches the essence of virtue. They go no
further than simply clinging to beliefs, customs, and
conventions; clutching onto these forms of goodness,
always fondling them, unable to let them go. Thus this is
called 'attachment to precepts and practices.'
Such attitudes
are an obstacle to what is truly good. Take, for example,
the long-held belief that goodness means to practice
charity, virtue and meditation on the sabbath days:
stream-winners have completely let go of such beliefs. Their
hearts are no longer caught up in beliefs and customs. Their
virtues no longer have precepts. In other words, they have
reached the essence of virtue. Their virtue is free from the
limits of time. In this they differ from ordinary,
run-of-the-mill people. Ordinary people have to hand
goodness over to external criteria believing, for
instance, that virtue lies on this day or that, during Rains
Retreat, during this or that month or year and then
holding fast to that belief, maintaining that anyone who
doesn't follow the custom can't be virtuous. In the end,
such people have a hard time finding the opportunity really
to do good. Thus we can say that they don't know the true
criteria for goodness. As for stream-winners, all the
qualities of virtue have come in and filled their hearts.
They are able to unshackle themselves from the conventional
values of the world that say that this or that is good. What
is truly good they have seen appear in their hearts. Good
lies right here. Evil lies right here. Neither depends on
external actions. This is in line with the Buddha's saying,
mano-pubbangama dhamma
mano-settha mano-maya
All matters are
preceded by the heart,
Excelled by the heart,
Achieved through the heart.
This is what is
meant by 'stream-winner'.
Stream-winners
are like people who have rowed their boats into the main
current of the Chao Phraya River, and so are destined to
float down to the river's mouth and into the sea of amata
deathless nibbana. There are three ways they can reach
the sea:
(1) The
lowest level of stream-winner is like a boatsman who leans
back with his hand simply placed on the rudder. This level
of stream-winner reaches the goal slowly.
(2) The
second level is like a boatsman who has his foot on the
rudder, his hands on the oars, and rows along.
(3) The third
level: The boat is equipped with a motor and the boatsman
is at the steering wheel, and so he reaches the goal in
practically no time at all.
This reaching
the stream to nibbana is the beginning stage of the
transcendent level. If you were to simplify the three
Fetters, you could do so as follows: To be attached to the
body as being one's own is self-identification. To be
attached to the actions of the body is attachment to
precepts and practices. Not knowing how to separate the mind
from the body or from one's actions makes one unable to see
clearly and know truly: This leads to uncertainty and doubt.
These are
simply my opinions on the matter, so you who read this
should consider things carefully on your own.
This ends the
discussion of the transcendent and mundane skillful states
of mind.
When you know
the characteristics of the various mental states, you should
use the three qualities mentioned above as your tools: Keep
your mindfulness, alertness, and powers of focused
investigation firmly in place at the mind. To be able to
gain knowledge, you have to use the power of focused
investigation, which is an aspect of discernment, to know
how mental states arise and fall: pulling out, taking a
stance, and then returning into stillness. You must keep
your attention fixed on investigating these things
constantly in order to be able to know the arising and
falling away of mental states and you will come to know
the nature of the mind that doesn't arise and doesn't fall
away.
To know the
arising and falling away of mental states of the past is one
level of cognitive skill (vijja), and deserves to be
called 'knowledge of previous births.' To know the states of
the mind as they change in the present deserves to be called
'knowledge of death and rebirth.' To know how to separate
mental states from their objects, knowing the primal nature
of the mind, knowing the current or force of the mind that
flows to its objects; separating the objects, the current of
mind that flows, and the primal nature of the mind: To be
able to know in this way deserves to be called 'knowledge of
the ending of mental effluents.' The objects or
preoccupations of the mind are the effluent of sensuality.
The current that flows is the effluent of becoming. Not
knowing the primal nature of the mind is the effluent of
unawareness.
If we were to
express this in terms of the four Noble Truths, we would
have to do so as follows: The objects or preoccupations of
the mind are the truth of stress (dukkha-sacca). The
current of the mind that flows into and falls for its
objects is the truth of the cause of stress (samudaya-sacca).
The mental state that penetrates in to see clearly the truth
of all objects, the current of the mind, and the primal
nature of the mind, is called the mental moment that forms
the Path (magga-citta). To let go of the objects, the
mental current, and the primal nature of the mind, without
any sense of attachment, is the truth of the disbanding of
stress (nirodha-sacca).
When the three
qualities that assist the mind alertness, mindfulness, and
focused investigation are vigorous and strong, alertness
becomes the awareness of release (vijja-vimutti),
mindfulness becomes intuitive understanding (ρana),
and focused investigation becomes liberating insight (vipassana-ρana),
the discernment that can stay fixed on knowing the truth of
stress without permitting any sense of pleasure or
displeasure for its object to arise. Intuitive understanding
fathoms the cause of stress, and the awareness of release
knows the heart clearly all the way through. When you can
know in this way, you can say that you know rightly.
* * *
Here I'd like
to back up and discuss the question of the mind in a little
more detail. The word 'mind' covers three aspects:
(1) The
primal nature of the mind.
(2) Mental states.
(3) Mental states in interaction with their objects.
All of these
aspects, taken together, make up the mind. If you don't know
the mind in this way, you can't say that you really know it.
All you can do is say that the mind arises and falls away,
the mind doesn't rise or fall away; the mind is good, the
mind is evil; the mind becomes annihilated, the mind doesn't
become annihilated; the mind is a dhamma, the mind isn't a
dhamma; the mind gains release, the mind doesn't gain
release; the mind is nibbana, the mind isn't nibbana; the
mind is sensory consciousness, the mind isn't sensory
consciousness; the mind is the heart, the mind isn't the
heart...
As the Buddha
taught, there are only two paths to practice the body,
speech, and heart; and the body, speech, and mind and in
the end both paths reach the same point: Their true goal is
release. So if you want to know the truth concerning any of
the above issues, you have to follow the path and reach the
truth on your own. Otherwise, you'll have to argue
endlessly. These issues for people who haven't practiced
all the way to clear insight have been termed by people of
wisdom as sedamocana-katha: issues that can only make
you break out in a sweat.
So I would like
to make a short explanation: The primal nature of the mind
is a nature that simply knows. The current that thinks and
streams out from knowing to various objects is a mental
state. When this current connects with its objects and falls
for them, it becomes a defilement, darkening the mind: This
is a mental state in interaction. Mental states, by
themselves and in interaction, whether good or evil, have to
arise, have to disband, have to dissolve away by their very
nature. The source of both these sorts of mental states is
the primal nature of the mind, which neither arises nor
disbands. It is a fixed phenomenon (thiti-dhamma),
always in place. By the primal nature of the mind which is
termed 'pabhassara,' or radiant I mean the
ordinary, elementary state of knowing in the present. But
whoever isn't able to penetrate in to know it can't gain any
good from it, like the proverbial monkey with the diamond.
Thus the name
given by the Buddha for this state of affairs is really
fitting: avijja dark knowledge, counterfeit
knowledge. This is in line with the terms 'pubbante
aρρanam' not knowing the beginning, i.e., the primal
nature of the mind; 'parante aρρanam' not knowing
the end, i.e., mental states in interaction with their
objects; 'majjhantika aρρanam' not knowing the
middle, i.e., the current that streams from the primal
nature of knowing. When this is the case, the mind becomes a
sankhara: a concoctor, a magician, fabricating
prolifically in its myriad ways.
This ends the
discussion of the mind as a frame of reference.
IV. Mindfulness of Death: Insight Meditation
In other words,
keep death in mind. This is where the mind advances to the
development of liberating insight, taking death as its
theme. 'Death' here refers to the death occurring in the
present physical sensations arising and passing away,
mental acts arising and passing away, all in a moment of
awareness. Only when you're aware on this level can you be
classed as being mindful of death.
Now that we've
brought up the topic of death, we have to reflect on birth,
seeing how many ways sensations are born and how many ways
mental acts are born. This is something a person with a
quiet mind can know.
A. Sensations
have up to five levels of refinement
1.
Hina-rupa: coarse sensations, sensations of
discomfort, aches and pains. When these arise, focus on
what causes them until they disappear.
2.
Panita-rupa: exquisite sensations that make the body
feel pleasurable, light, and refined. Focus on what causes
them until they disappear...
3.
Sukhumala-rupa: delicate sensations, tender, yielding,
and agile. When they arise, focus on what causes them
until they disappear.
4.
Olarika-rupa: physical sensations that give a sense of
grandeur, exuberance, brightness, and exultation: 'Mukhavanno
vipassidati.' When they arise, focus on finding out
what causes them until they disappear...
All four of
these sensations arise and disband by their very nature;
and it's possible to find out where they first appear.
5.
'Mano-bhava': imagined circumstances that appear
through the power of the mind. When they arise, focus on
keeping track of them until they disappear. Once you're
able to know in this way, you enter the sphere of true
mindfulness of death.
An explanation
of this sort of sensation: When the mind is quiet and
steadily concentrated, it has the power to create images in
the imagination (inner sensations, or sensations within
sensations). Whatever images it thinks of will then appear
to it; and once they appear, the mind tends to enter into
them and take up residence. (It can go great distances.) If
the mind fastens onto these sensations, it is said to take
birth simply because it has no sense of death.
These
sensations can appear in any of five ways:
a.
arising from the posture of the body, disappearing when
the posture changes;
b.
arising from thoughts imbued with greed, hatred, or
delusion arising, taking a stance, and then disbanding;
c.
arising with an in-breath and disbanding with the
following out-breath;
d.
arising from the cleansing of the blood in the lungs
appearing and disbanding in a single instant;
e.
arising from the heart's pumping blood into the various
parts of the body, the pressure of the blood causing
sensations to arise that correspond to sights, sounds,
smells, tastes, and tactile sensations. Sensations of this
sort are arising and disbanding every moment.
Another class
of sensation is termed 'gocara-rupa' sensations
that circle around the physical body. There are five sorts
light, sound, smells, tastes, and tactile sensations each
having five levels. For instance, common light travels
slowly; in the flash of an eye it runs for a league and then
dies away. The second level, subtle light, goes further; and
the third level goes further still. The fourth and fifth
levels can travel the entire universe. The same holds true
for sounds, smells, tastes, and tactile sensations. The
relationships between all the potentials in the universe are
interacting at every moment, differing only as to whether
they're fast or slow. This is the inequality that has been
termed 'anicca-lakkhana' inherent inconstancy.
Whoever is ignorant is bound to think that all this is
impossible, but actually this is the way things already are
by their nature. We'll come to know this through vijja
cognitive skill not through ordinary labels and
concepts. This is called true knowing, which meditators who
develop the inner eye will realize for themselves: knowing
the arising of these sensations, their persisting and their
disbanding, in terms of their primary qualities and basic
regularity.
Knowing
things for what they really are.
Release, purity, dispassion, disbanding;
Nibbanam
paramam sukham:
Nibbana is
the ultimate ease.
B. As for
mental acts that arise and die, their timespan is many
thousands of times faster than that of sensations. To be
able to keep track of their arising and dying away, our
awareness has to be still. The four kinds of mental acts
are:
Vedana:
the mind's experience of feelings of pleasure, pain, and
indifference.
Saρρa:
recognizing and labeling the objects of the mind.
Sankhara:
mental fabrications or fashionings of good and bad.
Viρρana:
distinct consciousness or cognizance of objects.
One class of
these mental acts stays in place, arising and disbanding
with reference to the immediate present. Another class is
termed 'gocara vedana' 'gocara saρρa,' etc., which go out to
refer to the world. Each of these has five levels, differing
as to whether they're common, refined, or subtle, slow or
fast. These five levels connect with each other, running out
in stages, and then circling back to their starting point,
disbanding and then arising again all without end.
When we don't
have the skill to discern the primary sensations and mental
acts that stay in place, we can't see into the 'gocara'
sensations and mental acts that go flowing around. This is
termed 'avijja,' the unawareness that opens the way
for connecting consciousness (patisandhi viρρana),
giving rise to the act of fashioning (sankhara),
which is the essence of kamma. This gives fruit as
sensations and feelings that are followed by craving, and
then the act of labeling, which gives rise to another level
of consciousness of sensory objects and then the cycle
goes circling on. This is termed the 'khandha-vatta,'
the cycle of the aggregates, circling and changing unevenly
and inconsistently. To see this is called
aniccanupassana-ρana, the knowledge that keeps track of
inconstancy as it occurs. This is known through the inner
eye, i.e., the skill of genuine discernment.
Thus, those who
practice the exercises of insight meditation should use
their sensitivities and circumspection to the full if they
hope to gain release from unawareness. Fashionings, in this
context, are like waves on the ocean. If we're out in a boat
on the ocean when the waves are high, our vision is
curtailed. Our senses of hearing, smell, taste, touch, and
ideation are all curtailed. We won't be able to perceive far
into the distance. What this means is that when our minds
are immersed in the Hindrances, we won't be able to perceive
death at all. But once we've been able to suppress the
Hindrances, it's like taking a boat across the ocean when
there are no waves. We'll be able to see objects far in the
distance. Our eyes will be clear-seeing, our ears
clear-hearing, our senses of smell, taste, touch and
ideation will be broad and wide open. The water will be
clear, and the light brilliant. We'll be able to know all
around us.
In the same
way, those who are to know death clearly have to begin by
practicing concentration as a foundation for developing
liberating insight. How do the five sorts of above-mentioned
sensation arise? What are their causes? How do they
disappear? How do physical and mental feelings arise? How do
they disappear? What are their causes? How do labels and
concepts arise? What are their causes? How do they
disappear? How do mental fashionings arise? What are their
causes? How do they disappear? How does consciousness arise
by way of the senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch,
and ideation? What are its causes? How does it disappear?
Altogether
there are four levels to each of the five aggregates (khandhas):
external and internal, staying in place and streaming
outward. These can be known at all times, but only people
who have the discernment that comes from training the mind
in tranquillity and insight meditation will be able to know
death on this level.
The discernment
that arises in this way has been termed 'pubbenivas-anussati-ρana,
i.e., understanding past sensations, future sensations, and
sensations in the present. These sensations differ in the
way they arise and pass away. To know this is to have
mastered one cognitive skill.
Cutupapata-ρana: With discernment of this sort, we're
able to keep track of the states of our own mind as they
arise and disappear, sometimes good as they arise and good
as they disappear, sometimes bad as they arise and bad as
they disappear, sometimes good as they arise and bad as they
disappear, sometimes bad as they arise and good as they
disappear. To be able to keep track in this way is to know
states of being and birth.
Asavakkhaya-ρana: When the discernment of this skill
arises, it leads to disenchantment with the way sensations
and mental acts arise and disappear and then arise again,
simply circling about: coarser sensations going through the
cycle slowly, more refined sensations going quickly; coarser
mental acts going slowly, more refined mental acts going
quickly. When you can keep track of this, you know one form
of stress. Now focus attention back on your own mind to see
whether or not it's neutral at that moment. If the mind
approves of its knowledge or of the things it knows, that's
kamasukhallikanuyoga indulgence in pleasure. If the
mind disapproves of its knowledge or of the things it knows,
that's attakilamathanuyoga, indulgence in
self-infliction. Once you've seen this, make the mind
neutral toward whatever it may know: That moment of
awareness is the mental state forming the Path. When the
Path arises, the causes of stress disband. Try your best to
keep that mental state going. Follow that train of awareness
as much as you can. The mind when it's in that state is said
to be developing the Path and at whatever moment the Path
stands firm, disbanding and relinquishing occur.
When you can do
this, you reach the level where you know death clearly.
People who know death in this way are then able to reduce
the number of their own deaths. Some of the Noble Ones have
seven more deaths ahead of them, some have only one more,
others go beyond death entirely. These Noble Ones are people
who understand birth and death, and for this reason have
only a few deaths left to them. Ordinary people who
understand their own birth and death on this level are hard
to find. Common, ordinary birth and death aren't especially
necessary; but people who don't understand the Dhamma have
to put up with birth and death as a common thing.
So whoever is
to know death on this level will have to develop the
cognitive skill that comes from training the mind. The
skill, here, is knowing which preoccupations of the mind are
in the past, which are in the future, and which are in the
present. This is cognitive skill (vijja). Letting go
of the past, letting go of the future, letting go of the
present, not latching onto anything at all: This is purity
and release.
As for
unawareness, it's the exact opposite: not knowing what's
past, not knowing what's future, not knowing what's present
that is, the arising and falling away of sensations and
mental acts, or body and mind or at most knowing only on
the level of labels and concepts remembered from what other
people have said, not knowing on the level of awareness that
we've developed on our own. All of this is classed as
avijja, or unawareness.
No matter how
much we may use words of wisdom and discernment, it still
won't gain us release. For instance, we may know that things
are inconstant, but we still fall for inconstant things. We
may know about things that are stressful, but we still fall
for them. We may know that things are not-self, but we still
fall for things that are not-self. Our knowledge of
inconstancy, stress, and not-self isn't true. Then how are
these things truly known? Like this:
Knowing
both sides,
letting go both ways,
shedding everything.
'Knowing both
sides' means knowing what's constant and what's inconstant,
what's stress and what's ease, what's not-self and what's
self. 'Letting go both ways' means not latching onto things
that are constant or inconstant, not latching onto stress or
ease, not latching onto self or not-self. 'Shedding
everything' means not holding onto past, present, or future:
Awareness doesn't head forward or back, and yet you can't
say that it's taking a stance.
Yavadeva
ρanamattaya patissatimattaya anissito ca viharati
na ca kiρci loke upadiyati.
'Simply mindful
and aware, the mind remains independent,
not attached to anything in the world.'
Now I would
like to describe the virtues of the arahants, those who have
gained complete insight into the world, abandoning it once
and for all. Though their aggregates (physical and mental
activities) may still appear to the world, they are pure
aggregates, absolutely free from both good and evil, because
the mind doesn't claim possession of them. The mind is
untouched by the behavior of the aggregates. The ten fetters
have been disbanded completely and no longer entangle the
heart, which is why this state is called nibbana:
liberation. The mind is radiant and clear; passion,
aversion, and delusion can no longer cloud it. It has
reached the radiance of the primal nature of the heart, to
which nothing else can compare.
Once this
radiance is realized, it obliterates the radiance of all
three levels of existence, so that no state of being appears
at all. As long as the mind has yet to gain release from
defilement, it is bound to regard the three levels of
existence as radiant and appealing. Once the mind reaches
stream-entry, the radiance of the three levels of existence
begins to darken and dim. When it reaches the level of
once-returning, that radiance appears even dimmer; and on
the level of nonreturning, it appears dimmer yet, although
it is still there. When arahantship is reached, the radiance
of the three levels of existence is so dim that it has
virtually vanished. When virtue, concentration, and
discernment are gathered at the mind, and unawareness
disbands along with the higher levels of the noble path, the
world doesn't appear at all. You can't tell what features,
colors, or shapes it has, or even where it is. There is only
the pure brilliance of nibbana. All the worlds are
dissolved in the moments of the path and fruition of
arahantship. This brilliance is something always there, but
we don't see it because of our own darkness and delusion.
This very
brilliance, though, can obliterate the darkness of the world
so that only nibbana will appear. The radiance of
nibbana obliterates the radiance of the world just as
the light of the sun, which illumines the world of human
beings and common animals, can obliterate at midday the
light of the stars appearing in the sky at night. Another
comparison is the light of the candle, which in the darkness
appears bright to our eyes: If a burning kerosene lantern is
brought near the candle, the candle's light will appear to
dim. If the lantern's light is really brilliant, the light
of the candle won't even appear. If we aren't observant, we
may think that the candle isn't shedding any light at all,
but actually it's giving off as much light as before, only
now no one pays it any attention. So it is with the mind
that has reached radiant nibbana, which obliterates
the light of the sun and moon, and wipes from the heart the
glittering appeal of heaven and the Brahma worlds. This is
why nibbana is said to be zero or void: None of the
three worlds appears as a preoccupation of the heart; the
heart no longer entangles itself. It zeroes itself from the
world, i.e., it no longer takes part in birth, aging,
illness, and death.
Nibbana
is something genuine and unchanging. It knows nothing of
deterioration. It always stays as it is. As long as there is
birth, aging, illness, and death, there will always be
nibbana, because birthlessness comes from birth, and
deathlessness lies buried in the very midst of dying. The
problem, then, lies with those who don't lay the ground-work
for realizing nibbana. Nibbana doesn't
vacillate back and forth, but most people who practice
virtue, concentration, and discernment do. Just like a man
who is going to walk to a city but, when he gets halfway
there, turns back: Normally he should reach the city in
thirty days, but if he walks back and forth like this even
for three years, he'll never get there. And when he doesn't
reach the city, if he were then to go telling people that it
doesn't exist, he would be making a serious mistake.
So it is with
people who practice virtue, concentration, and discernment
in half measures, back and forth, and when they don't gain
Awakening go telling others that nibbana is null
and void, that the Buddha took it with him when he died.
This is very wrong. We can make a comparison with a field
where our parents have raised rice and always gotten a good
crop. If they die, and our own laziness fills their place so
that we don't do the work, we're bound to go hungry. And
once we're hungry, can we then say that our parents took the
rice or the field with them? In the same way, nibbana
is there, but if we don't assemble the causes for realizing
it and then go denying its existence, you can imagine for
yourself how much harm we're doing.
If we haven't
yet reached or realized nibbana, there's nothing
extraordinary about it. But once we have come close to
nibbana, the world will appear as if full of vipers and
masses of fire. The palaces and mansions of heavenly beings,
if you can see them, will look like the hovels of outcastes.
You won't be attracted to living in them, because you've
already known nibbana.
Nibbana
is nothing else but this ordinary heart, freed from all the
effluents of defilement so that it reaches its primal
nature. The primal nature of the heart is something that
doesn't take birth, age, grow ill, or die. What takes birth
is the act of falling for preoccupations. The heart's nature
is clear and shining, but unawareness keeps it clouded and
opaque. Yet even on the physical level to say nothing of
the heart if someone were to come along and say that the
water in the ocean is clear by nature, that a person with
any intelligence could see the ocean floor, you'd have a
hard time trying to find anyone to believe him. But what he
says is true. There are plenty of reasons why we can't see
the ocean floor the dust and minute particles floating in
the water, the wind and the sea creatures that interact with
the water but if you could get someone to eliminate these
factors so that there would be nothing but the nature of the
water, it would be crystal clear. You could tell at a glance
how deep or shallow the ocean was without having to waste
your time diving and groping around. So it is with the
heart: If our hearts are still ignorant, we shouldn't go
groping elsewhere for nibbana. Only if we cleanse our
own hearts will we be able to see it.
People who
meditate are by and large extremely prone to conjecture and
speculation, judging nibbana to be like this or that,
but actually there's nothing especially deep, dark, or
mysterious about it. What makes nibbana seem
mysterious is our own lack of discernment. Nibbana is
always present, along with the world. As long as the world
exists, there will always be nibbana. But if no one
explores the truth of nibbana, it will appear
mysterious and far away. And once we give rise to our own
misunderstandings, we're bound to start formulating notions
that nibbana is like this or like that. We may decide
that nibbana is extinguished; that nibbana is
null and void; that nibbana has no birth, aging,
illness, or death; that nibbana is the self; or that
nibbana is not-self. Actually, each of these
expressions is neither right nor wrong. Right and wrong
belong to the person speaking, because nibbana is
something untouched by supposing. No matter what anyone may
call it, it simply stays as it is. If we were to call it
heaven or a Brahma world, it wouldn't object, just as we
suppose names for "sun" and "moon": If we were to call them
stars or clouds or worlds or jewels, whatever they really
are stays as it is; they aren't transformed by our words. At
the same time, they themselves don't announce that they are
sun or moon or anything. They are thiti-dhamma they
simply are what they are.
So it is with
the pure heart that we call nibbana. No matter what
we call it, it simply stays as it is. Thus we say that with
nibbana there's no right and no wrong. Right and
wrong belong to the person speaking. People who don't know
drag out their right and wrong to talk about. Nibbana
is something known exclusively through the heart. Words and
deeds aren't involved. Our talking is merely a matter of the
path. The result, once attained, is something completely
apart. We thus call it release (vimutti) because it's
untouched by supposing, attaining a nature that is pure
heartwood: the heart that neither spins forward nor back,
the heart that attains a quality that doesn't develop or
deteriorate, come or go. It stays as it is what we suppose
as thiti-dhamma, free from the germs of defilement our
very own heart, i.e., the heart's primal nature.
Actually, the
heart is pure by nature, but various moods and objects
various preoccupations are mixed up with it. Once these
preoccupations are cleaned out, there you are: nibbana.
To know nibbana clearly is nothing other than knowing
how this one heart takes its preoccupations as itself. The
heart by nature is one, but if it hasn't been trained by
discernment, it tends to go streaming toward preoccupations,
both within and without, and then we say that this state of
mind differs from that state of mind, and so they begin to
multiply until they're so many that we give up trying to
look after them all. They seem many because we count each
preoccupation as a state of the mind itself. The problem is
that we don't understand the teachings of the ancient
philosophers, and so think that the mind can be called many.
Take a simple example: Suppose a person has many jobs.
Sometimes he sells, so he's called a merchant. If he also
grows rice, he's called a farmer. If he works for the King,
he's called a government official. If he acquires rank, he's
called by his rank. Actually he's only one person, and none
of his titles are wrong. They've been given to him simply in
line with the work he does. But anyone who didn't understand
would think that this man was an awful lot of people.
Another
comparison: When a person is born, we call it a baby. When
it gets older, we call it a child. When it gets still older,
we call it a young man or a young lady, and when its hair
gets gray and its teeth break, we call it Grandma or Gramps.
What gives rise to all these names? One and the same person.
So it is with the mind that is supposed to be many. We don't
understand what the words are supposed to mean, so we go
groping around after our own shadows. When this is the case,
we find it hard to practice. We don't understand the states
of mind that have been supposed into being, and so don't see
the mind that is released, untouched by supposing.
When the mind
is said to have many states, this is what is meant:
Sometimes the mind takes on passion; this is called
saraga-citta, a passionate mind. Sometimes it takes on
irritation and aversion; this is called sadosa-citta,
an angry mind. Sometimes it takes on a deluded state as
itself; this is called samoha-citta, a deluded mind.
These states are all on the unwise side, and are termed
akusala-citta, unskillful mental states. As for the good
side: vitaraga-citta, the mind has reached
satisfaction and so its desires fade; vitadosa-citta,
the mind has had enough and so its anger disappears;
vitamoha-citta, the mind is bright and so withdraws from
its dullness, just as the sun or moon withdraws from an
eclipse and is bright and clear. These are termed kusala-citta,
skillful mental states.
Some people at
this point think that there are six states to the mind, or
even six minds. The true nature of the mind, though, is one.
To count six states or six minds is to count the
preoccupations; the primal mind is radiant. We take a few
things to be many and so end up poor, just as when a foolish
or poor person thinks that a thousand baht is a lot of
money. An intelligent or rich person, though, realizes that
it's just a little: You can spend it all in two days. A
fool, however, would think that a thousand baht would make
him rich and so he'll have to continue being poor. So it is
if we see our one mind as many: We'll have to be poor
because we'll be at our wits' end trying to train it.
The nature of
the mind that's clear and one is like clean, clear water
mixed with different colors in different bottles. We may
call it red water, yellow water, green water, etc., but the
water itself is still clear as it always was. If a fool
comes along and falls for the colors, he wants to taste them
all. He may drink five bottles, but they'll all be just like
the first. If he knows beforehand that it's all the same
water, he won't feel any desire to waste his time drinking
this or that bottle. All he has to do is taste one bottle,
and that'll be enough. So it is with the mind: If we realize
that the mind is in charge and is the determining factor in
all good and evil and in the attainment of nibbana,
we won't feel any desire to go saying that the mind is like
this or like that. The mind seems to be many because it gets
entangled in various preoccupations, and when these
preoccupations dye the mind, we count them as states of the
mind itself.
The pure nature
of the heart and mind is like the sun, which shines every
day throughout the year but is concealed by clouds during
the rainy season. Those who don't know its nature then say
that the sun isn't shining. This is wrong. Their vision
can't penetrate the clouds and so they find fault with the
sun. They suppose that the darkness of the clouds belongs to
the sun, get stuck on their own supposings, and so don't
reach the truth. The true nature of the sun is always
bright, no matter what the season. If you don't believe me,
ask an airplane pilot. If you go up past the clouds in an
airplane on a dark rainy day, you'll know whether the sun is
in fact dark or shining.
So it is with
the mind: No matter how it may be behaving, its nature is
one radiant and clear. If we lack discernment and skill,
we let various preoccupations come flowing into the mind,
which lead it to act sometimes wisely and sometimes not
and then we designate the mind according to its behavior.
Because there
is one mind, it can have only one preoccupation. And if it
has only one preoccupation, then there shouldn't be too much
difficulty in practicing so as to know its truth. Even
though the mind may seem to have many preoccupations, they
don't come all at once in a single instant. They have to
pass by one at a time. A good mood enters as a bad one
leaves; pleasure enters, pain leaves; ingenuity enters,
stupidity, leaves; darkness enters, brightness leaves. They
keep trading places without let-up. Mental moments, though,
are extremely fast. If we aren't discerning, we won't be
able to know our own preoccupations. Only after they've
flared up and spread to affect our words and deeds are we
usually aware of them.
Normally this
one mind is very fast. Just as when we turn on a light: If
we don't look carefully, the light seems to appear, and the
darkness to disperse, the very instant we turn on the
switch. This one mind, when it changes preoccupations, is
that fast. This one mind is what leads to various states of
being because our preoccupations get into the act so that
we're entangled and snared.
It's not the
case that one person will have many minds. Say that a person
goes to heaven: He goes just to heaven. Even if he is to go
on to other levels of being, he has to pass away from heaven
first. It's not the case that he'll go to heaven, hell, and
the Brahma worlds all at the same time. This goes to show
that the mind is one. Only its thoughts and preoccupations
change.
The
preoccupations of the mind come down simply to physical and
mental phenomena that change, causing the mind to experience
birth in various states of being. Since the mind lacks
discernment and doesn't know the true nature of its
preoccupations, it gropes about, experiencing death and
rebirth in the four modes of generation (yoni). If
the mind has the discernment to know its preoccupations and
let go of them all without remainder, leaving only the
primal nature of the heart that doesn't fall for any
preoccupation on the levels of sensuality, form, or
formlessness, it will be able to gain release from suffering
and stress. "Once the mind is fully matured by means of
virtue, concentration and discernment, it gains complete
release from the effluents of defilement."
Khandha-kamo
desire for the five aggregates is over and done with.
Bhava-kamo desire for the three levels of being (the
sensual plane, the plane of form, and the plane of
formlessness) disbands and disperses. The three levels of
being are essentially only two: the aggregate of physical
phenomena, which includes the properties of earth, water,
fire, and wind; and the aggregates of mental phenomena,
which include feelings, labels, fashionings, and
consciousness in short, the phenomena that appear in the
body and heart or, if you will, the body and mind. Physical
phenomena are those that can be seen with the eye. Mental
phenomena are those that can't be seen with the eye but can
be sensed only through the heart and mind. Once we can
distinguish these factors and see how they're related, we'll
come to see the truth of the aggregates: They are
stress, they are the cause of stress, they are
the path. Once we understand them correctly, we can deal
with them properly. Whether they arise, fade, or vanish, we
won't if we have any discernment latch onto them with
any false assumptions. The mind will let go. It will simply
know, neutral and undisturbed. It won't feel any need to
worry about the conditions or behavior of the aggregates,
because it sees that the aggregates can't be straightened
out. Even the Buddha didn't straighten out the aggregates.
He simply let them go, in line with their own true nature.
The heart is
what creates the substance of the aggregates. If you try to
straighten out the creations, you'll never be done with
them. If you straighten out the creator, you'll have the job
finished in no time. When the heart is clouded with dullness
and darkness, it creates aggregates or physical and mental
phenomena as its products, to the point where the birth,
aging, illness, and death of the aggregates become
absolutely incurable unless we have the wisdom to leave
them alone in line with their own nature. In other words, we
shouldn't latch onto them.
This is
illustrated in the Canon, where the Buddha says in some
passages that he is free from birth, aging, illness, and
death. If we read further, though, we'll notice that his
body grew old, ill and then died; his mental activity ended.
This shows that the aggregates should be left alone.
Whatever their nature may be, don't try to resist it or go
against it. Keep your mind neutral and aware. Don't go
latching onto the various preoccupations that arise, age,
grow ill, and vanish, as pertaining to the self. If you can
do this, you're practicing correctly. Aim only at the purity
of the one heart that doesn't die.
The heart
clouded with dullness and darkness lacks a firm base and so
drifts along, taking after the aggregates. When they take
birth, it thinks that it's born; when they age, it thinks
that it's aged; when they grow ill and disband, it gets
mixed up along with them and so experiences stress and pain,
its punishment for drifting along in the wake of its
supposings.
If the mind
doesn't drift in this way, there is simply the disbanding of
stress. The cause of stress and the path disband as well,
leaving only the nature that doesn't die: buddha, a
mind that has bloomed and awakened. For the mind to bloom,
it needs the fertilizer of virtue and concentration. For it
to awaken and come to its senses, it needs discernment. The
fertilizer of concentration is composed of the exercises of
tranquillity and insight meditation. The mind then gains
all-around discernment with regard to the aggregates
seeing the pain and harm they bring and so shakes itself
free and keeps its distance, which is why the term "arahant"
is also translated as "one who is distant." In other words,
the mind has had enough. It has had its fill. It's no longer
flammable, i.e., it offers no fuel to the fires of passion,
aversion, and delusion, which are now dispersed once and for
all through the power of discernment.
This is the
supreme nibbana. Birth has been absolutely destroyed,
but nibbana isn't annihilation. Nibbana is the
name for what still remains: the primal heart. So why isn't
it called the heart? Because it's now a heart with no
preoccupations. Just as with the names we suppose for "tree"
and "steel": If the tree is cut, they call it "lumber." If
it's made into a house, they call it "home." If it's made
into a place to sit, they call it a "chair." You never see
anyone who would still call it a "tree." The same with
steel: Once it's been made into a car or a knife, we call it
a "car" or a "knife." You never see anyone who would still
call it a "steel." But even though they don't call it a
steel, the steel is still there. It hasn't run off anywhere.
It's still steel just as it always was.
So it is with
the heart when the expert craftsman, discernment, has
finished training it: We call it nibbana. We don't
call it by its old name. When we no longer call it the
"heart," some people think that the heart vanishes, but
actually it's simply the heart in its primal state that we
call nibbana. Or, again it's simply the heart
untouched by supposing. No matter what anyone may call it,
it simply stays as it is. It doesn't take on anyone's
suppositions at all. Just as when we correctly suppose a
diamond to be a diamond: No matter what anyone may call it,
its real nature stays as it is. It doesn't advertise itself
as a diamond. It simply is what it is. The same with the
heart: Once it gains release, it doesn't suppose itself to
be this or that. It's still there. It hasn't been
annihilated. Just as when we call a diamond a diamond, it's
there; and when we don't call it anything, it's still there
it hasn't vanished or disappeared so it is with the hear
that is nibbana: It's there. If we call it a sun, a
moon, heaven, Brahma world, earth, water, wind, fire, woman,
man, or anything at all, it's still there, just as before.
It hasn't changed in any way. It stays as it is: one heart,
one Dhamma, free from the germs of defilement.
This is why the
truest name to suppose for it is release. What we call
heart, mind, intellect, form, feeling, labels, mental
fashionings, consciousness: All these are true as far as
supposing goes. Wherever supposing is, there release can be
found. Take a blatant example: the five aggregates. If you
look at their true nature, you'll see that they've never
said, "Look. We're aggregates," or "Look. We're the heart."
So it is with the heart that's nibbana, that has
reached nibbana: It won't proclaim itself as this or
that, which is why we suppose it to be release. Once someone
has truly reached release, that's the end of speaking.
I make it a
practice to wander about during the dry season every year. I
do this because I feel that a monk who stays put in one
monastery is like a train sitting still at HuaLampong
station and everyone knows the worth of a train sitting
still. So there's no way I could stay in one place. I'll
have to keep on the move all of my life, as long as I'm
still ordained.
Some of my
companions have criticized me for being this way, and others
have praised me, but I myself feel that it brings nothing
but good. I've learned about the land, events, customs and
religious practices in different areas. In some places it
may be that I'm more ignorant than the people there; in
other places and with other groups, it might be that I know
more than they, so there's no way I can lose by traveling
about. Even if I just sit still in the forest, I gain by it.
Wherever I find the people know less than I do, I can be
their teacher. In whatever groups I find that I know less
than they do, I'm willing to be their student. Either way I
profit.
At the same
time, living in the forest as I like to do has given me a
lot to think about. 1) It was a custom of the Buddha. He was
born in the forest, attained Awakening in the forest, and
totally entered nibbana in the forest and yet how
was he at the same time able to bring his virtues right into
the middle of great cities, as when he spread his religious
work to include King Bimbisara of Rajagaha.
2) As I see it,
it's better to evade than to fight. As long as I'm not
superhuman, as long as my skin can't ward off knives,
bullets and spears, I'd better not live in the centers of
human society. This is why I feel it's better to evade than
to fight.
People who know
how to evade have a saying: 'To evade is wings; to avoid is
a tail.' This means: A tiny chick, fresh out of the egg, if
it knows how to evade, won't die. It will have a chance to
grow feathers and wings and be able to survive on its own in
the future. 'To avoid is a tail': This refers to the tail
(rudder) of a boat. If the person holding the rudder knows
how to steer, he'll be able to avoid stumps and sand bars.
For the boat to avoid running aground depends on the rudder.
Since this is the way I see things, I prefer living in the
forest.
3) I've come to
consider the principles of nature: It's a quiet place, where
you can observe the influences of the environment. Wild
animals, for example, sleep differently from domesticated
animals. This can be a good lesson. Or take the wild
rooster: Its eyes are quick, its tail feathers sparse, its
wings strong and its call short. It can run fast and fly
far. What do these characteristics come from? I've made this
a lesson for myself. Domesticated roosters and wild roosters
come from the same species, but the domesticated rooster's
wings are weak, its call long, its tail feathers lush and
ungainly, its behavior different from that of the wild
rooster. The wild rooster is the way it is because it can't
afford to let down its guard. It always has to be on the
alert, because danger is ever-present in the forest. If the
wild rooster went around acting like a domestic rooster, the
cobras and mongooses would make a meal of it in no time. So
when it eats, sleeps, opens and closes its eyes, the wild
rooster has to be strong and resilient in order to stay
alive.
So it is with
us. If we spend all our time wallowing around in
companionship, we're like a knife or a hoe stuck down into
the dirt: It'll rust easily. But if it's constantly
sharpened on a stone or a file, rust won't have a chance to
take hold. Thus we should learn to be always on the alert.
This is why I like to stay in the forest. I benefit from it,
and learn many lessons.
4) I've learned
to reflect on the teachings that the Buddha taught first to
each newly-ordained monk. They're very thought-provoking. He
taught the Dhamma first, and then the Vinaya. He'd begin
with the virtues of the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha, followed
by the five basic objects of meditation: hair of the head,
hair of the body, nails, teeth and skin. Then he'd give a
sermon with four major points:
a) Make a
practice of going out for alms. Be an asker, but not a
beggar. Be content with whatever you are given.
b) Live in a
quiet place, such as an abandoned house, under a
projecting cliff face, in a cave. People have asked if the
Buddha had any reasons for this teaching, but I've always
been convinced that if there were no benefits to be gained
from these places, he wouldn't have recommended them.
Still, I wondered what the benefits were, which is why
I've taken an interest in this matter.
c) The Buddha
taught monks to make robes from cloth that had been thrown
away even to the point of wearing robes made from the
cloth used to wrap a corpse. This teaching made me reflect
on death. What benefits could come from wearing the cloth
used to wrap a corpse? For a simple answer, think for a
moment about a corpse's things: They don't appeal to
anyone. No one wants them and so they hold no dangers.
In this point it's easy enough to see that the Buddha
taught us not to take pride in our possessions.
d) The Buddha
taught that we should use medicines near at hand, such as
medicinal plants pickled in urine.
These teachings
of the Buddha, when I first heard them, sparked my
curiosity. Whether or not I would benefit from following
them, there was one thing I was sure of: that the Buddha was
not the sort of person who would hold blindly to anything,
and that he would never teach anything without good reason.
So even if I wasn't totally convinced of his teachings, I
should at least respect them. Or if I didn't yet have
confidence in my teacher's ability, I owed it to him and to
the traditions of the Sangha to give his teachings a try.
I was reminded
of the words of MahaKassapa, who asked to be allowed to
follow such ascetic practices as living in the forest,
eating one meal a day (going out for alms) and wearing robes
made from thrown-away rags all of his life. The Buddha
questioned him, 'You've already eradicated your defilements.
What is there left for you to strive for?'
MahaKassapa
answered, 'I want to observe these practices, not for my own
sake, but for the sake of those yet to come. If I don't
follow these practices, who will they be able to take as an
example? If a person teaches by example, the students will
learn easily, just as when a person teaches students how to
read: If he has pictures to go along with the text, the
students will learn much more quickly. My observing these
practices is the same sort of thing.'
When I thought
of these words, I felt sympathy for MahaKassapa, subjecting
himself to all sorts of hardships. If you were to put it in
worldly terms, you could say that he was already a
multimillionaire, deserving a soft bed and fine food, but
instead he slept and ate on the ground, and had only coarse
food to eat. Thinking of his example, I'd be ashamed to look
for nothing more than creature comforts. As for MahaKassapa,
he could have eaten fine food and lived in a beautiful home
with no danger of his heart's being defiled. But and it's
not surprising he was more concerned with benefiting those
who came after.
All of these
things have given me food for thought ever since I was first
ordained.
Speaking of
living in the forest, I've learned a lot of unusual lessons
there. Sometimes I've seen death close at hand and have
learned a lot of lessons sometimes from seeing the
behavior of animals, sometimes from talking to people who
live there.
Once there was
an old man who told me of the time he had gone with his wife
to tap tree sap deep in a large forest. They happened to run
into a bear, and a fight ensued. The wife was able to get up
a tree in time and then called down to her husband, 'If you
can't fight it off, lie down and play dead. Don't make a
move.'
When her
husband heard this, he came to his senses and so fell back
on the ground, lying absolutely still. Seeing this, the bear
climbed up astride him, but then let go of him and simply
stood looking at him. The old man lay there on his back,
meditating on the word, 'buddho, buddho,' and
thinking, 'I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die.' The
bear pulled at his legs and then at his head, and then used
its nuzzle to push him left and right. The old man kept his
joints loose and didn't react in any way. After the bear had
decided that the man was dead, it left. A moment or so later
the man got up and walked home with his wife. His head was
all battered and bloody, but he didn't die.
When he had
finished telling me the story, he added, 'That's the way
forest animals have to be. If you can't fight, you have to
play dead.'
Hearing this,
the thought occurred to me, 'No one is interested in a dead
person. Since I live in the forest, I should play dead.
Whoever praises me or attacks me, I'll have to be still
quiet in thought, word and deed if I want to survive.'
This can also be a good reminder in the way of the Dhamma:
To free yourself from death, you have to play dead. This is
a good lesson in maranassati, keeping death in mind.
Another time,
early one morning when I was staying in the middle of a
large forest, I took my followers out for alms. As we were
going through the forest, I heard a mother chicken cry, 'Kataak!
Kataak!' Since she didn't fly away, I figured she
probably had some baby chicks, so I sent the boys to run and
look. This frightened the chicken and she flew away over the
trees. The boys saw a lot of baby chicks running around, but
before they could catch them, the chicks scurried into a
large pile of fallen leaves. There they hid themselves and
lay absolutely still. The boys took a stick and stirred
around in the leaves, but the chicks didn't move. They
didn't even make a peep. Although the boys kept looking for
a while, they couldn't find even a single chick. I knew that
the chicks hadn't gone anywhere. They had just pretended to
be fallen leaves. So as it turned out, of all those little
tiny chicks, we couldn't catch a one.
Thinking about
this, I was struck by their instincts for self-preservation,
and how clever they were: They simply kept themselves quiet
in a pile of fallen leaves. And so I made a comparison for
myself: 'When you're in the wilds, then if you can keep your
mind still like the baby chicks, you're sure to be safe and
to free yourself from dying.' This was another good lesson.
In addition to
the animals, there are other aspects of nature such as
trees and vines that can set you thinking. Take vines, for
instance. There are some that don't turn in any direction
but right. Observing this, I've made it a lesson for myself.
'If you're going to take your mind to the highest good,
you'll have to act like the vines: i.e., always to the
right, for the Buddha taught, 'Kaya-kammam, vaca-kammam,
mano-kammam padakkhinam' going to the right in
thought, word and deed. You'll always have to go right by
keeping yourself above the defilements that flare up and
consume the heart. Otherwise you'll be no match even for a
vine.'
Some kind of
trees make themselves quiet in ways we can see: We say that
they 'sleep.' At night, they fold up their leaves. If you go
lie under them, you'll have a clear view of the stars in the
nighttime sky. But when day comes, they'll spread out their
leaves and give a dense shade. This is a good lesson for the
mind: When you sit in meditation, close only your eyes. Keep
your mind bright and alert, like a tree that closes its
leaves and thus doesn't obstruct our view of the stars.
When you can
think in this way you see the value of living in the forest.
The mind becomes confident. Dhamma that you have studied
or even that you haven't will make itself clear because
nature is the teacher. It's like the sciences of the world,
which every country has used to develop amazing powers. None
of their inventions or discoveries came out of a textbook.
They came because scientists studied the principles of
nature, all of which appear right here in the world. As for
the Dhamma, it's just like science: It exists in nature.
When I realized this I no longer worried about studying the
scriptures, and I was reminded of the Buddha and his
disciples: They studied and learned from the principles of
nature. None of them followed a textbook.
For these
reasons I'm willing to be ignorant when it comes to texts
and scriptures. Some kinds of trees sleep at night and are
awake during the day. Others sleep by day and are awake by
night. The same is true of forest animals.
Living in the
forest, you also learn from the vapors that each plant
exudes. Some plants are good for your health, some are bad.
Sometimes, for example, when I've been feverish, I've gone
to sit under certain kinds of trees and my fever has
disappeared. Sometimes when I've been feeling well I've gone
to sit under certain kinds of trees and the elements in my
body have become disturbed. Sometimes I've been hungry and
thirsty, but as soon as I go sit under certain kinds of
trees, my hunger and thirst disappear. Learning from trees
in this way has caused me to think about the traditional
doctors who keep a statue of a hermit on their altars. Those
hermits never studied medical textbooks, but were able to
teach about medicines that can cure disease because they had
studied nature by training their minds the same way we do.
Similar lessons
can be learned from water, earth and air. Realizing this,
I've never gotten very excited about medicines that cure
disease, because I feel that good medicines are everywhere.
The important point is whether or not we recognize them, and
this depends on us.
In addition,
there's another quality we need in order to take care of
ourselves: the power of the mind. If we're able to keep the
mind quiet, its ability to cure disease will be tens of
times greater than that of any medicine. This is called
dhamma-osatha: the medicine of the Dhamma.
All in all, I
can really see that I've gained from living in forests and
other quiet places in order to train the mind. One by one
I've been able to cut away my doubts about the Buddha's
teachings. And so, for this reason, I'm willing to devote
myself to the duties of meditation until there's no more
life left for me to live.
The gains that
come from training the mind, if I were to describe them in
detail, would go on and on, but I'll ask to finish this
short description here.
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