Contents
· Translator's Foreword
· Keeping the Breath in Mind
· Introduction
· Preliminaries
· Method 1
· Method 2
· Jhana
· Lessons in Samadhi
· Groundwork
· The Art of Letting Go
· At the Tip of Your Nose
· The Care & Feeding of the Mind
· "Just Right" Concentration
· Appendix
· Glossary
· Chant for the Dedication of Merit
Translator's Foreword
This is a "how to" book. It teaches the liberation of the mind, not
as a mind-boggling theory, but as a very basic skill that starts with keeping
the breath in mind.
The teachings here are drawn from the works of Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo (1906-61),
one of Thailand's most renowned teachers of Buddhist meditation. Ajaan Lee was
a forest monk -- one who prefers to live in the seclusion of the forest and
makes meditation the central theme of his practice -- so his teachings grow
out of personal, practical experience, although he also makes a point of relating
them to standard Buddhist doctrine.
The book is in two parts: The first is a basic guide to the techniques of breath
meditation -- Ajaan Lee's specialty -- and gives two methods that he developed
at separate points in his career. The second part consists of excerpts from
five of his talks dealing with issues that tend to arise in the course of meditation.
If you want to begin your practice of meditation immediately and fill in the
details later, turn to Method 2. Read over the seven basic steps until you have
them firmly in mind and then start meditating. Take care, especially at the
beginning, not to clutter your mind with extraneous ideas or information. Otherwise,
you might spend too much time looking for things in your meditation and not
see what is actually there. The rest of the book can wait until later, when
you want help with a particular problem or -- what is often the same thing --
when you want an over-all perspective on what you are doing.
The purpose of this book is to suggest possibilities: to direct your attention
to areas you may have overlooked, to suggest approaches that otherwise might
not have occurred to you. What you actually see is purely an individual matter.
Don't try to force things. Don't be worried if you have experiences that aren't
covered in the book. Don't be disappointed if you don't have experiences that
are.
Signs and visions, for example: Some people experience them, others don't. They
are an individual matter, and not really essential to the meditation. If you
experience them, learn how to use them wisely. If you don't, learn how to use
what you do experience. The important point is to keep the basics in mind and
to stay observant.
Meditation, like carpentry, sailing, or any other skill, has its own vocabulary
that to the beginner is bound to seem like a code. One of the challenges in
using this book will be in breaking its code. Part of the difficulty is that
some of the terms are literally foreign: They're in Pali, the language of the
oldest extant Buddhist texts, colored by shades of meaning they've picked up
from Thai. This problem, though, is relatively minor. Most of these terms are
explained in the text; the glossary at the back of the book gives definitions
for any that aren't, plus additional information on many that are.
A greater challenge lies in getting a feel for the author's point of view. In
meditation, we are dealing with the body and mind as experienced from the inside.
Ajaan Lee practiced meditation most of his adult life. He had long experience
in viewing the body and mind from that perspective, and so it is only natural
that his choice of terms should reflect it.
For example, when he refers to the breath or breath sensations, he is speaking
not only of the air going in and out of the lungs, but also of the way breathing
feels, from the inside, throughout the entire body. Similarly, the "elements"
(dhatu) of the body are not the chemical elements. Instead, they are elementary
feelings -- energy, warmth, liquidity, solidity, emptiness, and consciousness
-- the way the body presents itself directly to inner awareness. The only way
to get past the strangeness of this sort of terminology is to start exploring
your own body and mind from the inside and to gain a sense of which terms apply
to which of your own personal experiences. Only then will these terms fulfill
their intended purpose -- as tools for refining your inner sensitivities --
for the truth of meditation lies, not in understanding the words, but in mastering
the skill that leads to a direct understanding of awareness itself.
You might compare this book to a recipe. If you simply read the recipe, you
can't -- even if you understand all the terms -- get any flavor or nourishment
from it. If you follow the first few steps and then give up when it starts getting
difficult, you've wasted your time. But if you follow it all the way, you can
then set it aside and simply enjoy the results of your own cooking.
My hope is that this book will be helpful in your personal exploration into
the benefits that come from keeping the breath in mind.
Thanissaro Bhikkhu
(Geoffrey DeGraff)
Metta Forest Monastery
PO Box 1409
Valley Center, CA 92082
Keeping the Breath in Mind
Introduction
This book is a guide to the practice of centering the mind. There are two sections:
The first deals almost exclusively with the mind. But because the well-being
of the mind depends to some extent on the body, I have included a second section
[Method 2] that shows how to use the body to benefit the mind.
From what I've observed in my own practice, there is only one path that is short,
easy, effective, and pleasant, and at the same time has hardly anything to lead
you astray: the path of keeping the breath in mind, the same path the Lord Buddha
himself used with such good results. I hope that you won't make things difficult
for yourself by being hesitant or uncertain, by taking this or that teaching
from here or there; and that, instead, you'll earnestly set your mind on getting
in touch with your own breath and following it as far as it can take you. From
there, you will enter the stage of liberating insight, leading to the mind itself.
Ultimately, pure knowing -- buddha -- will stand out on its own. That's when
you'll reach an attainment trustworthy and sure. In other words, if you let
the breath follow its own nature, and the mind its own nature, the results of
your practice will without a doubt be all that you hope for.
Ordinarily, the nature of the heart, if it isn't trained and put into order,
is to fall in with preoccupations that are stressful and bad. This is why we
have to search for a principle -- a Dhamma -- with which to train ourselves
if we hope for happiness that's stable and secure. If our hearts have no inner
principle, no center in which to dwell, we're like a person without a home.
Homeless people have nothing but hardship. The sun, wind, rain, and dirt are
bound to leave them constantly soiled because they have nothing to act as shelter.
To practice centering the mind is to build a home for yourself: Momentary concentration
(khanika samadhi) is like a house roofed with thatch; threshold concentration
(upacara samadhi), a house roofed with tile; and fixed penetration (appana samadhi),
a house built out of brick. Once you have a home, you'll have a safe place to
keep your valuables. You won't have to put up with the hardships of watching
over them, the way a person who has no place to keep his valuables has to go
sleeping in the open, exposed to the sun and rain, to guard those valuables
-- and even then his valuables aren't really safe.
So it is with the uncentered mind: It goes searching for good from other areas,
letting its thoughts wander around in all kinds of concepts and preoccupations.
Even if those thoughts are good, we still can't say that we're safe. We're like
a woman with plenty of jewelry: If she dresses up in her jewels and goes wandering
around, she's not safe at all. Her wealth might even lead to her own death.
In the same way, if our hearts aren't trained through meditation to gain inner
stillness, even the virtues we've been able to develop will deteriorate easily
because they aren't yet securely stashed away in the heart. To train the mind
to attain stillness and peace, though, is like keeping your valuables in a strongbox.
This is why most of us don't get any good from the good we do. We let the mind
fall under the sway of its various preoccupations. These preoccupations are
our enemies, because there are times when they can cause the virtues we've already
developed to wither away. The mind is like a blooming flower: If wind and insects
disturb the flower, it may never have a chance to give fruit. The flower here
stands for the stillness of the mind on the path; the fruit, for the happiness
of the path's fruition. If our stillness of mind and happiness are constant,
we have a chance to attain the ultimate good we all hope for.
The ultimate good is like the heartwood of a tree. Other "goods" are
like the buds, branches, and leaves. If we haven't trained our hearts and minds,
we'll meet with things that are good only on the external level. But if our
hearts are pure and good within, everything external will follow in becoming
good as a result. Just as our hand, if it's clean, won't soil what it touches,
but if it's dirty, will spoil even the cleanest cloth; in the same way, if the
heart is defiled, everything is defiled. Even the good we do will be defiled,
for the highest power in the world -- the sole power giving rise to all good
and evil, pleasure and pain -- is the heart. The heart is like a god. Good,
evil, pleasure, and pain come entirely from the heart. We could even call the
heart a creator of the world, because the peace and continued well-being of
the world depend on the heart. If the world is to be destroyed, it will be because
of the heart. So we should train this most important part of the world to be
centered as a foundation for its wealth and well-being.
Centering the mind is a way of gathering together all its skillful potentials.
When these potentials are gathered in the right proportions, they'll give you
the strength you need to destroy your enemies: all your defilements and unwise
mental states. You have discernment that you've trained and made wise in the
ways of good and evil, of the world and the Dhamma. Your discernment is like
gunpowder. But if you keep your gunpowder for long without putting it into bullets
-- a centered mind -- it'll go damp and moldy. Or if you're careless and let
the fires of greed, anger, or delusion overcome you, your gunpowder may flame
up in your hands. So don't delay. Put your gunpowder into bullets so that whenever
your enemies -- your defilements -- make an attack, you'll be able to shoot
them right down.
Whoever trains the mind to be centered gains a refuge. A centered mind is like
a fortress. Discernment is like a weapon. To practice centering the mind is
to secure yourself in a fortress, and so is something very worthwhile and important.
Virtue, the first part of the Path, and discernment, the last, aren't especially
difficult. But keeping the mind centered, which is the middle part, takes some
effort because it's a matter of forcing the mind into shape. Admittedly, centering
the mind, like placing bridge pilings in the middle of a river, is something
difficult to do. But once the mind is firmly in place, it can be very useful
in developing virtue and discernment. Virtue is like placing pilings on the
near shore of the river; discernment, like placing them on the far shore. But
if the middle pilings -- a centered mind -- aren't firmly in place, how will
you ever be able to bridge the flood of suffering?
There is only one way we can properly reach the qualities of the Buddha, Dhamma,
and Sangha, and that's through the practice of mental development (bhavana).
When we develop the mind to be centered and still, discernment can arise. Discernment
here refers not to ordinary discernment, but to the insight that comes solely
from dealing directly with the mind. For example, the ability to remember past
lives, to know where living beings are reborn after death, and to cleanse the
heart of the fermentations (asava) of defilement: These three forms of intuition
-- termed ñana-cakkhu, the eye of the mind -- can arise for people who
train themselves in the area of the heart and mind. But if we go around searching
for knowledge from sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and tactile sensations mixed
together with concepts, it's as if we were studying with the Six Masters, and
so we can't clearly see the truth -- just as the Buddha, while he was studying
with the Six Masters, wasn't able to gain Awakening. He then turned his attention
to his own heart and mind, and went off to practice on his own, keeping track
of his breath as his first step and going all the way to the ultimate goal.
As long as you're still searching for knowledge from your six senses, you're
studying with the Six Masters. But when you focus your attention on the breath
-- which exists in each of us -- to the point where the mind settles down and
is centered, you'll have the chance to meet with the real thing: buddha, pure
knowing.
Some people believe that they don't have to practice centering the mind, that
they can attain release through discernment (pañña-vimutti) by
working at discernment alone. This simply isn't true. Both release through discernment
and release through stillness of mind (ceto-vimutti) are based on centering
the mind. They differ only in degree. Like walking: Ordinarily, a person doesn't
walk on one leg alone. Whichever leg is heavier is simply a matter of personal
habits and traits.
Release through discernment begins by pondering various events and aspects of
the world until the mind slowly comes to rest and, once it's still, gives rise
intuitively to liberating insight (vipassana-ñana): clear and true understanding
in terms of the four Noble Truths (ariya sacca). In release through stillness
of mind, though, there's not much pondering involved. The mind is simply forced
to be quiet until it attains the stage of fixed penetration. That's where intuitive
insight will arise, enabling it to see things for what they are. This is release
through stillness of mind: Concentration comes first, discernment later.
A person with a wide-ranging knowledge of the texts -- well-versed in their
letter and meaning, capable of clearly and correctly explaining various points
of doctrine -- but with no inner center for the mind, is like a pilot flying
about in an airplane with a clear view of the clouds and stars but no sense
of where the landing strip is. He's headed for trouble. If he flies higher,
he'll run out of air. All he can do is keep flying around until he runs out
of fuel and comes crashing down in the savage wilds.
Some people, even though they are highly educated, are no better than savages
in their behavior. This is because they've gotten carried away, up in the clouds.
Some people -- taken with what they feel to be the high level of their own learning,
ideas, and opinions -- won't practice centering the mind because they feel it
beneath them. They think they deserve to go straight to release through discernment
instead. Actually, they're heading straight to disaster, like the airplane pilot
who has lost sight of the landing strip.
To practice centering the mind is to build a landing strip for yourself. Then,
when discernment comes, you'll be able to attain release safely.
This is why we have to develop all three parts of the path -- virtue, concentration,
and discernment -- if we want to be complete in our practice of the religion.
Otherwise, how can we say that we know the four Noble Truths? -- because the
path, to qualify as the Noble Path, has to be composed of virtue, concentration,
and discernment. If we don't develop it within ourselves, we can't know it.
And if we don't know, how can we let go?
Most of us, by and large, like getting results but don't like laying the groundwork.
We may want nothing but goodness and purity, but if we haven't completed the
groundwork, we'll have to keep on being poor. Like people who are fond of money
but not of work: How can they be good, solid citizens? When they feel the pinch
of poverty, they'll turn to corruption and crime. In the same way, if we aim
at results in the field of the religion but don't like doing the work, we'll
have to continue being poor. And as long as our hearts are poor, we're bound
to go searching for goodness in other areas -- greed, gain, status, pleasure,
and praise, the baits of the world -- even though we know better. This is because
we don't truly know, which means simply that we aren't true in what we do.
The truth of the path is always true: Virtue is something true, concentration
is true, discernment is true, release is true. But if we aren't true, we won't
meet with anything true. If we aren't true in practicing virtue, concentration,
and discernment, we'll end up only with things that are fake and imitation.
And when we make use of things fake and imitation, we're headed for trouble.
So we have to be true in our hearts. When our hearts are true, we'll come to
savor the taste of the Dhamma, a taste surpassing all the tastes of the world.
This is why I have put together the following two guides for keeping the breath
in mind.
Peace.
Phra Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo
Wat Boromnivas
Bangkok, 1953
Preliminaries
Now I will explain how to go about the practice of centering the mind. Before
starting out, kneel down, with your hands palm-to-palm in front of your heart,
and sincerely pay respect to the Triple Gem, saying as follows:
Araham samma-sambuddho bhagava:
Buddham bhagavantam abhivademi. (bow down)
Svakkhato bhagavata dhammo:
Dhammam namassami. (bow down)
Supatipanno bhagavato savaka-sangho:
Sangham namami. (bow down)
Then, showing respect with your thoughts, words, and deeds, pay homage to the
Buddha:
Namo tassa bhagavato arahato samma-sambuddhasa. (three times)
And take refuge in the Triple Gem:
Buddham saranam gacchami.
Dhammam saranam gacchami.
Sangham saranam gacchami.
Dutiyampi buddham saranam gacchami.
Dutiyampi dhammam saranam gacchami.
Dutiyampi sangham saranam gacchami.
Tatiyampi buddham saranam gacchami.
Tatiyampi dhammam saranam gacchami.
Tatiyampi sangham saranam gacchami.
Then make the following resolution: "I take refuge in the Buddha -- the
Pure One, completely free from defilement; and in his Dhamma -- doctrine, practice,
and attainment; and in the Sangha -- the four levels of his Noble Disciples
-- from now to the end of my life."
Buddham jivitam yava nibbanam saranam gacchami.
Dhammam jivitam yava nibbanam saranam gacchami.
Sangham jivitam yava nibbanam saranam gacchami.
Then formulate the intention to observe the five, eight, ten, or 227 precepts
according to how many you are normally able to observe, expressing them in a
single vow:
Imani pañca sikkhapadani samadiyami. (three times)
(This is for the observing the five precepts, and means, "I undertake the
five training rules: to refrain from taking life, from stealing, from sexual
misconduct, from lying, and from taking intoxicants.")
Imani attha sikkhapadani samadiyami. (three times)
(This is for those observing the eight precepts, and means, "I undertake
the eight training rules: to refrain from taking life, from stealing, from sexual
intercourse, from lying, from taking intoxicants, from eating food after noon
and before dawn, from watching shows and from adorning the body for the purpose
of beautifying it, and from using high and luxurious beds and seats.")
Imani dasa sikkhapadani samadiyami. (three times)
(This is for those observing the ten precepts, and means, "I undertake
the ten training rules: to refrain from taking life, from stealing, from sexual
intercourse, from lying, from taking intoxicants, from eating food after noon
and before dawn, from watching shows, from adorning the body for the purpose
of beautifying it, from using high and luxurious beds and seats, and from receiving
money.")
Parisuddho aham bhante. Parisuddhoti mam buddho dhammo sangho dharetu.
(This is for those observing the 227 precepts.)
Now that you have professed the purity of your thoughts, words, and deeds toward
the qualities of the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, bow down three times. Sit down,
place your hands palm-to-palm in front of your heart, steady your thoughts,
and develop the four Sublime Attitudes: good will, compassion, appreciation,
and equanimity. To spread these thoughts to all living beings without exception
is called the immeasurable Sublime Attitude. A short Pali formula for those
who have trouble memorizing is:
"Metta" (benevolence and love, hoping for your own welfare and that
of all other living beings.)
"Karuna" (compassion for yourself and others.)
"Mudita" (appreciation, taking delight in your own goodness and that
of others.)
"Upekkha" (equanimity in the face of those things that should be let
be.)
Method 1
Sit in a half-lotus position, right leg on top of the left leg, your hands placed
palm-up on your lap, right hand on top of the left. Keep your body straight
and your mind on the task before you. Raise your hands in respect, palm-to-palm
in front of the heart, and think of the qualities of the Buddha, Dhamma, and
Sangha: Buddho me natho -- The Buddha is my mainstay. Dhammo me natho -- The
Dhamma is my mainstay. Sangho me natho -- The Sangha is my mainstay. Then repeat
in your mind, buddho, buddho; dhammo, dhammo; sangho, sangho. Return your hands
to your lap and repeat one word, buddho, three times in your mind.
Then think of the in-and-out breath, counting the breaths in pairs. First think
bud- with the in-breath, dho with the out, ten times. Then begin again, thinking
buddho with the in-breath, buddho with the out, seven times. Then begin again:
As the breath goes in and out once, think buddho once, five times. Then begin
again: As the breath goes in and out once, think buddho three times. Do this
for three in-and-out breaths.
Now you can stop counting the breaths, and simply think bud- with the in-breath
and dho with the out. Let the breath be relaxed and natural. Keep your mind
perfectly still, focused on the breath as it comes in and out of the nostrils.
When the breath goes out, don't send the mind out after it. When the breath
comes in, don't let the mind follow it in. Let your awareness be broad, cheerful,
and open. Don't force the mind too much. Relax. Pretend that you're breathing
out in the wide open air. Keep the mind still, like a post at the edge of the
sea. When the water rises, the post doesn't rise with it; when the water ebbs,
the post doesn't sink.
When you've reached this level of stillness, you can stop thinking buddho. Simply
be aware of the feeling of the breath.
Then slowly bring your attention inward, focusing it on the various aspects
of the breath -- the important aspects that can give rise to intuitive powers
of various kinds: clairvoyance, clairaudience, the ability to know the minds
of others, the ability to remember previous lives, the ability to know where
different people and animals are reborn after death, and knowledge of the various
elements or potentials that are connected with, and can be of use to, the body.
These elements come from the bases of the breath. The First Base: Center the
mind on the tip of the nose and then slowly move it to the middle of the forehead,
The Second Base. Keep your awareness broad. Let the mind rest for a moment at
the forehead and then bring it back to the nose. Keep moving it back and forth
between the nose and the forehead -- like a person climbing up and down a mountain
-- seven times. Then let it settle at the forehead. Don't let it go back to
the nose.
From here, let it move to The Third Base, the middle of the top of the head,
and let it settle there for a moment. Keep your awareness broad. Inhale the
breath at that spot, let it spread throughout the head for a moment, and then
return the mind to the middle of the forehead. Move the mind back and forth
between the forehead and the top of the head seven times, finally letting it
rest on the top of the head.
Then bring it into The Fourth Base, the middle of the brain. Let it be still
for a moment and then bring it back out to the top of the head. Keep moving
it back and forth between these two spots, finally letting it settle in the
middle of the brain. Keep your awareness broad. Let the refined breath in the
brain spread to the lower parts of the body.
When you reach this point you may find that the breath starts giving rise to
various signs (nimitta), such as seeing or feeling hot, cold, or tingling sensations
in the head. You may see a pale, murky vapor or your own skull. Even so, don't
let yourself be affected by whatever appears. If you don't want the nimitta
to appear, breathe deep and long, down into the heart, and it will immediately
go away.
When you see that a nimitta has appeared, mindfully focus your awareness on
it -- but be sure to focus on only one at a time, choosing whichever one is
most comfortable. Once you've got hold of it, expand it so that it's as large
as your head. The bright white nimitta is useful to the body and mind: It's
a pure breath that can cleanse the blood in the body, reducing or eliminating
feelings of physical pain.
When you have this white light as large as the head, bring it down to The Fifth
Base, the center of the chest. Once it's firmly settled, let it spread out to
fill the chest. Make this breath as white and as bright as possible, and then
let both the breath and the light spread throughout the body, out to every pore,
until different parts of the body appear on their own as pictures. If you don't
want the pictures, take two or three long breaths and they'll disappear. Keep
your awareness still and expansive. Don't let it latch onto or be affected by
any nimitta that may happen to pass into the brightness of the breath. Keep
careful watch over the mind. Keep it one. Keep it intent on a single preoccupation,
the refined breath, letting this refined breath suffuse the entire body.
When you've reached this point, knowledge will gradually begin to unfold. The
body will be light, like fluff. The mind will be rested and refreshed -- supple,
solitary, and self-contained. There will be an extreme sense of physical pleasure
and mental ease.
If you want to acquire knowledge and skill, practice these steps until you're
adept at entering, leaving, and staying in place. When you've mastered them,
you'll be able to give rise to the nimitta of the breath -- the brilliantly
white ball or lump of light -- whenever you want. When you want knowledge, simply
make the mind still and let go of all preoccupations, leaving just the brightness
and emptiness. Think one or two times of whatever you want to know -- of things
inside or outside, concerning yourself or others -- and the knowledge will arise
or a mental picture will appear. To become thoroughly expert you should, if
possible, study directly with someone who has practiced and is skilled in these
matters, because knowledge of this sort can come only from the practice of centering
the mind.
The knowledge that comes from centering the mind falls into two classes: mundane
(lokiya) and transcendent (lokuttara). With mundane knowledge, you're attached
to your knowledge and views on the one hand, and to the things that appear and
give rise to your knowledge on the other. Your knowledge and the things that
give you knowledge through the power of your skill are composed of true and
false mixed together -- but the "true" here is true simply on the
level of mental fabrication, and anything fabricated is by nature changeable,
unstable, and inconstant.
So when you want to go on to the transcendent level, gather all the things you
know and see into a single preoccupation -- ekaggatarammana, the singleness
of mental absorption -- and see that they are all of the same nature. Take all
your knowledge and awareness and gather it into the same point, until you can
clearly see the truth: that all of these things, by their nature, simply arise
and pass away. Don't try to latch onto the things you know -- your preoccupations
-- as yours. Don't try to latch onto the knowledge that has come from within
you as your own. Let these things be, in line with their own inherent nature.
If you latch onto your pre-occupations, you're latching onto stress and pain.
If you hold onto your knowledge, it will turn into the cause of stress.
So: A mind centered and still gives rise to knowledge. This knowledge is the
path. All of the things that come passing by for you to know are stress. Don't
let the mind fasten onto its knowledge. Don't let it fasten onto the preoccupations
that appear for you to know. Let them be, in line with their nature. Put your
mind at ease. Don't fasten onto the mind or suppose it to be this or that. As
long as you suppose yourself, you're suffering from obscured awareness (avijja).
When you can truly know this, the transcendent will arise within you -- the
noblest good, the most exalted happiness a human being can know.
To summarize, the basic steps to practice are as follows:
1. Eliminate all bad preoccupations from the mind.
2. Make the mind dwell on good preoccupations.
3. Gather all good preoccupations into one -- the singleness of meditative absorption
(jhana).
4. Consider this one preoccupation until you see how it is aniccam, inconstant;
dukkham, stressful; and anatta, not yourself or anyone else -- empty and void.
5. Let all good and bad preoccupations follow their own nature -- because good
and bad dwell together and are equal by nature. Let the mind follow its own
nature. Let knowing follow its own nature. Knowing doesn't arise, and it doesn't
fall away. This is santi-dhamma -- the reality of peace. It knows goodness,
but the knowing isn't goodness, and goodness isn't the knowing. It knows evil,
but the knowing isn't evil, and evil isn't the knowing. In other words, knowing
isn't attached to knowledge or to the things known. Its nature is truly elemental
-- flawless and pure, like a drop of water on a lotus leaf. This is why it's
called asankhata-dhatu: the unfabricated property, a true element.
When you can follow these five steps, you'll find marvels appearing in your
heart, the skills and perfections that come from having practiced tranquillity
and insight meditation. You'll obtain the two types of results already mentioned:
mundane, providing for your own physical well-being and that of others throughout
the world; and
transcendent, providing for the well-being of your heart, bringing happiness
that is calm, cool, and blooming, leading all the way to Liberation (nibbana)
-- free from birth, aging, illness, and death.
This has been a brief explanation of the main principles of breath meditation.
If you have any questions or encounter any difficulties in putting these principles
into practice, and you wish to study directly with someone who teaches along
these lines, I will be happy to help you to the best of my ability so that we
can all attain the peace and well-being taught by the religion.
Most people will find that Method 2, which follows, is easier and more relaxing
than Method 1, outlined above.
Method 2
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, adjust
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're 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.
Once you've learned to put your breath in order, it's as if you have everyone
in your home in order. The incidentals of breath meditation are like people
outside your home -- in other words, guests. Once the people in your home are
well-behaved, your guests will have to fall in line.
The "guests" here are the signs (nimitta) and vagrant breaths that
will tend to pass within the range of the breath you are dealing with: the various
signs that arise from the breath and may appear as images -- bright lights,
people, animals, yourself, others; or as sounds -- the voices of people, some
you recognize and others you don't. In some cases the signs appear as smells
-- either fragrant or else foul like a corpse. Sometimes the in-breath can make
you feel so full throughout the body that you have no sense of hunger or thirst.
Sometimes the breath can send warm, hot, cold, or tingling sensations through
the body. Sometimes it can cause things that never occurred to you before to
spring suddenly to mind.
All of these things are classed as guests. Before you go receiving guests, you
should put your breath and mind into good order, making them stable and secure.
In receiving these guests, you first have to bring them under your control.
If you can't control them, don't have anything to do with them. They might lead
you astray. But if you can put them through their paces, they can be of use
to you later on.
To put them through their paces means to change them at will, through the power
of thought (patibhaga nimitta) -- making them small, large, sending them far
away, bringing them up close, making them appear and disappear, sending them
outside, bringing them in. Only then will you be able to use them in training
the mind.
Once you've mastered these signs, they'll give rise to heightened sensory powers:
the ability to see without opening your eyes; the ability to hear far-distant
sounds or smell far-distant aromas; the ability to taste the various elements
that exist in the air and can be of use to the body in overcoming feelings of
hunger and desire; the ability to give rise to certain feelings at will -- to
feel cool when you want to feel cool, hot when you want to feel hot, warm when
you want to feel warm, strong when you need strength -- because the various
elements in the world that can be physically useful to you will come and appear
in your body.
The mind, too, will be heightened, and will have the power to develop the eye
of intuition (ñana-cakkhu): the ability to remember previous lives, the
ability to know where living beings are reborn after they die, and the ability
to cleanse the heart of the fermentations of defilement. If you have your wits
about you, you can receive these guests and put them to work in your home.
These are a few of the incidentals of breath meditation. If you come across
them in your practice, examine them thoroughly. Don't be pleased by what appears.
Don't get upset or try to deny what appears. Keep your mind on an even keel.
Stay neutral. Be circumspect. Consider carefully whatever appears, to see whether
it's trustworthy or not. Otherwise, it might lead you to mistaken assumptions.
Good and evil, right and wrong, high and low: All depend on whether your heart
is shrewd or dull, and on how resourceful you are. If you're dull-witted, even
high things can become low, and good things evil.
Once you know the various aspects of the breath and its incidentals, you can
gain knowledge of the four Noble Truths. In addition, you can relieve physical
pains as they arise in your body. Mindfulness is the active ingredient in the
medicine; the in-and-out breath is the solvent. Mindfulness can cleanse and
purify the breath. A pure breath can cleanse the blood throughout the body,
and when the blood is cleansed, it can relieve many of the body's diseases and
pains. If you suffer from nervous disorders, for instance, they'll completely
disappear. What's more, you'll be able to strengthen the body so that you feel
a greater sense of health and well-being.
When the body feels well, the mind can settle down and rest. And once the mind
is rested, you gain strength: the ability to relieve all feelings of pain while
sitting in meditation, so that you can go on sitting for hours. When the body
is free from pain, the mind is free from Hindrances (nivarana). Body and mind
are both strong. This is called samadhi-balam -- the strength of concentration.
When your concentration is strong like this, it can give rise to discernment:
the ability to see stress, its cause, its disbanding, and the path to its disbanding,
all clearly within the breath. This can be explained as follows:
The in-and-out breath is stress -- the in-breath, the stress of arising; the
out-breath, the stress of passing away. Not being aware of the breath as it
goes in and out, not knowing the characteristics of the breath, is the cause
of stress. Knowing when the breath is coming in, knowing when it's going out,
knowing its characteristics clearly -- i.e., keeping your views in line with
the truth of the breath -- is Right View, part of the Noble Path.
Knowing which ways of breathing are uncomfortable, knowing how to vary the breath;
knowing, "That way of breathing is uncomfortable; I'll have to breathe
like this in order to feel at ease:" This is Right Resolve.
The mental factors that think about and correctly evaluate all aspects of the
breath are Right Speech.
Knowing various ways of improving the breath; breathing, for example, in long
and out long, in short and out short, in short and out long, in long and out
short, until you come across the breath most comfortable for you: This is Right
Action.
Knowing how to use the breath to purify the blood, how to let this purified
blood nourish the heart muscles, how to adjust the breath so that it eases the
body and soothes the mind, how to breathe so that you feel full and refreshed
in body and mind: This is Right Livelihood.
Trying to adjust the breath until it soothes the body and mind, and to keep
trying as long as you aren't fully at ease, is Right Effort.
Being mindful and alert to the in-and-out breath at all times, knowing the various
aspects of the breath -- the up-flowing breath, the down-flowing breath, the
breath in the stomach, the breath in the intestines, the breath flowing along
the muscles and out to every pore -- keeping track of these things with every
in-and-out breath: This is Right Mindfulness.
A mind intent only on issues related to the breath, not pulling any other objects
in to interfere, until the breath is refined, giving rise to fixed absorption
and then liberating insight right there: This is Right Concentration.
To think of the breath is termed vitakka, directed thought. To adjust the breath
and let it spread is called vicara, evaluation. When all aspects of the breath
flow freely throughout the body, you feel full and refreshed in body and mind:
This is piti, rapture. When body and mind are both at rest, you feel serene
and at ease: This is sukha, pleasure. And once you feel pleasure, the mind is
bound to stay snug with a single preoccupation and not go straying after any
others: This is ekaggatarammana, singleness of preoccupation. These five factors
form the beginning stage of Right Concentration.
When all these parts of the Noble Path -- virtue, concentration, and discernment
-- are brought together fully mature in the heart, you gain insight into all
aspects of the breath, knowing that "Breathing this way gives rise to skillful
mental states. Breathing that way gives rise to unskillful mental states."
You aren't caught up with the factors -- the breath in all its aspects -- that
fabricate the body, the factors that fabricate speech, the factors that fabricate
the mind, whether for good or for ill. You let them be, in line with their inherent
nature: This is the disbanding of stress.
Another, even briefer way to express the four Noble Truths is this: The in-and-out
breath is the truth of stress. Not being aware of the in-breath, not being aware
of the out-breath: This is the cause of stress -- obscured, deluded awareness.
Seeing into all aspects of the breath so clearly that you can let them go with
no sense of attachment, is the disbanding of stress. Being constantly mindful
and alert to all aspects of the breath, is the path to the disbanding of stress.
When you can do this, you can say that you're correctly following the path of
breath meditation. You have cognitive skill, able to know all four Truths clearly.
You can attain release. Release is a mind that doesn't cling to low causes and
low effects -- i.e., stress and its cause; or to high causes and high effects
-- the disbanding of stress and the path to its disbanding. It's a mind unattached
to the things that cause it to know, unattached to knowledge, unattached to
knowing. When you can separate these things, you've mastered the skill of release
-- in other words, when you know what forms the beginning, what forms the end
and what lies in between, letting them be as they are on their own, in line
with the phrase,
sabbe dhamma anatta
All phenomena are not-self.
To be attached to the things that cause us to know -- the elements, khandhas,
the senses and their objects -- is termed clinging to sensuality (kamupadana).
To be attached to knowledge is termed clinging to views (ditthupadana). To be
unacquainted with pure knowing in and of itself (buddha) is termed clinging
to precepts and procedures (silabbatupadana). And when we cling in this way,
we are bound to be deluded by the factors that fabricate the body, speech, and
the mind, all of which arise from obscured awareness.
The Buddha was a complete master of both cause and effect, without being attached
either to low causes and low effects, or to high causes and high effects. He
was above cause and beyond effect. Stress and ease were both at his disposal,
but he was attached to neither of them. He fully knew both good and evil, was
fully equipped with both self and not-self, but wasn't attached to any of these
things. He had at his disposal the objects that can act as the basis for the
cause of stress, but wasn't attached to them. The Path -- discernment -- was
also at his disposal: He knew how to appear either ignorant or shrewd, and how
to use both ignorance and shrewdness in his work of spreading the religion.
And as for the disbanding of stress, he had it at his disposal but didn't cling
to it, wasn't attached to it, which is why we can truly say that his mastery
was complete.
Before the Buddha was able to let go of these things in this way, he first had
to work at giving rise to them in full measure. Only then could he put them
aside. He let go from abundance, unlike ordinary people who "let go"
out of poverty. Even though he let these things go, they were still at his disposal.
He never dismissed the virtue, concentration, and discernment he had worked
at perfecting up to the day of his Awakening. He continued using every aspect
of virtue, concentration, and discernment to the day he entered total Liberation
(parinibbana). Even the moment he was about to "nibbana," he was practicing
his full command of concentration -- in other words, his total Liberation occurred
when he was between the jhanas of form and formlessness.
So we shouldn't dismiss virtue, concentration, and discernment. Some people
won't observe the precepts because they're afraid of getting tied to them. Some
people won't practice concentration because they're afraid of becoming ignorant
or going insane. The truth of the matter is that normally we're already ignorant,
already insane, and that to practice centering the mind is what will end our
ignorance and cure our insanity. Once we've trained ourselves properly, we'll
give rise to pure discernment, like a cut jewel that gives off light by its
very nature. This is what qualifies as true discernment. It arises for us individually
and is termed paccattam: We can give rise to it, and know it, only for ourselves.
Most of us, though, tend to misunderstand the nature of discernment. We take
imitation discernment, adulterated with concepts, and use it to smother the
real thing, like a man who coats a piece of glass with mercury so that he can
see his reflection and that of others, thinking he's found an ingenious way
of looking at the truth. Actually, he's nothing more than a monkey looking in
a mirror: One monkey becomes two and will keep playing with its reflection until
the mercury wears off, at which point it becomes crestfallen, not knowing what
the reflection came from in the first place. So it is when we gain imitation
discernment, unwittingly, by thinking and conjecturing in line with concepts
and preoccupations: We're headed for sorrow when death meets us face-to-face.
The crucial factor in natural discernment comes solely from training the mind
to be like a diamond that gives off its own light -- surrounded by radiance
whether in dark places or bright. A mirror is useful only in places already
well-lit. If you take it into the dark, you can't use it to see your reflection
at all. But a cut jewel that gives off its own light is brilliant everywhere.
This is what the Buddha meant when he taught that there are no closed or secret
places in the world where discernment can't penetrate. This jewel of discernment
is what will enable us to destroy craving, clinging, and obscured awareness,
and to attain the highest excellence: Liberation -- free from pain, death, annihilation,
and extinction -- existing naturally through the reality of deathlessness (amata-dhamma).
By and large, we tend to be interested only in discernment and release. At the
drop of a hat, we want to start right in with the teachings on stress, inconstancy,
and not-self -- and when this is the case, we'll never get anywhere. Before
the Buddha taught that things are inconstant, he had worked at knowing them
until they revealed their constancy. Before teaching that things are stressful,
he had turned that stress into pleasure and ease. And before teaching that things
are not-self, he had turned what is not-self into a self, and so was able to
see what is constant and true, lying hidden in what is inconstant, stressful,
and not-self. He then gathered all of these qualities into one. He gathered
all that is inconstant, stressful, and not-self into one and the same thing:
fabrications (sankhara) viewed in terms of the world -- a single class, equal
everywhere throughout the world. As for what's constant, pleasant, and self,
this was another class: fabrications viewed in terms of the Dhamma. And then
he let go of both classes, without getting caught up on "constant"
or "inconstant," "stress" or "ease," "self"
or "not-self." This is why we can say he attained release, purity,
and Liberation, for he had no need to latch onto fabrications -- whether of
the world or of the Dhamma -- in any way at all.
This was the nature of the Lord Buddha's practice. But as for our own practice,
most of us act as if we have everything figured out beforehand and have succeeded
even before we start. In other words, we want simply to let go and attain peace
and release. But if we haven't laid the full groundwork, our letting-go is bound
to be lacking: Our peace is bound to be piece-meal, our release is bound to
be wrong. Those of us who sincerely mean well and want only the highest good
should ask ourselves: Have we laid the proper foundation? If we don't lay the
proper foundation for release and letting go, how will we ever be free?
The Buddha taught that virtue can overcome common defilements, the gross faults
in our words and deeds; that concentration can overcome such intermediate defilements
as sensual desires, ill will, torpor, restlessness, and uncertainty; and that
discernment can overcome such subtle defilements as craving, clinging, and obscured
awareness. Yet some people whose discernment is sharp, who can clearly explain
subtle points of doctrine, can't seem to shake off the more common defilements
that even virtue can overcome. This shows that something must be lacking in
their virtue, concentration, and discernment. Their virtues are probably all
on the surface, their concentration splotchy and stained, their discernment
a smeared-on gloss -- like the glass coated with mercury -- which is why they
can't attain the goal. Their actions fall under the old saying: Keeping a sword
outside the scabbard -- having a way with words and theories, but no center
for the mind; laying an egg outside the nest -- looking for goodness only outside,
without training the mind to be centered; resting a foundation on the sand --
trying to find security in things of no substance. All of this is bound to bring
disappointment. Such people have yet to find a worthwhile refuge.
So we should lay the groundwork and put the causes into good working order,
because all the attainments we hope for come springing from causes.
attana codayattanam
patimanse tamattana
Rouse yourself. Train your own heart.
Start judging your own in-and-out breath.
Jhana
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 level of jhana has five factors. (a) Directed thought (vitakka):
Think of the breath until you can keep it in mind without getting distracted.
(b) Singleness of preoccupation (ekaggatarammana): Keep the mind with the breath.
Don't let it stray after other concepts or preoccupations. 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 connect with the other breath sensations in the body. Let these breath sensations
spread until they're interconnected all over the body. 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 level of jhana to arise. This stream of breathing can
then take you all the way to the fourth level of jhana.
Directed thought, singleness of preoccupation, 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, undistracted, unperturbed,
serene, and exultant (citta-passaddhi).
Rapture and pleasure are the results. The factors of the first level of 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 preoccupation
-- you enter the second level of jhana (magga-citta, phala-citta).
2. The second level of jhana has three factors: rapture, pleasure, and singleness
of preoccupation (magga-citta). This refers to the state of mind that has tasted
the results coming from the first level of jhana. Once you have entered the
second level, rapture and pleasure become stronger because they rely on a single
cause, singleness of preoccupation, 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 grow 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 level of jhana.
3. The third level of jhana has two factors: pleasure and singleness of preoccupation.
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 preoccupation,
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 preoccupation, the cause, has the strength
to focus more heavily down, taking you to the fourth level of jhana.
4. The fourth level of jhana has two factors: equanimity (upekkha) and singleness
of preoccupation, or mindfulness. Equanimity and singleness of preoccupation
on the fourth level of jhana are powerfully focused -- solid, stable, and sure.
The breath property is absolutely quiet, free from ripples, crosscurrents, and
gaps. The mind, neutral and still, is free 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, acting like a movie screen that gives
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 preoccupation, 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 & bright --
like the light of the sun
that, 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 & 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, power comes from letting
go of all preoccupations. The mind stands alone, like a person who has climbed
to the top of a mountain and so has the right to see in all directions. The
mind's dwelling -- the breath, which supports the mind's prominence and freedom
-- is in a heightened state, so the mind is able to see clearly the locations
of all Dhamma fabrications (sankhara) -- i.e., elements, 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 ñana -- 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 level of jhana, it can act as the basis for
eight skills:
1. Vipassana-ñana: 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: psychic powers -- the ability to use thoughts 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-ñana: the ability to know the level -- good or evil, high
or low -- of other people's minds.
6. Pubbenivasanussati-ñana: 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-ñana: 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.
Lessons in Samadhi
Groundwork
July 30, 1956
If, when you're sitting, you aren't yet able to observe the breath, tell yourself,
"Now I'm going to breathe in. Now I'm going to breathe out." In other
words, at this stage you're the one doing the breathing. You're not letting
the breath come in and out as it naturally would. If you can keep this in mind
each time you breathe, you'll soon be able to catch hold of the breath.
* * *
In keeping your awareness inside your body, don't try to imprison it there.
In other words, don't try to force the mind into a trance, don't try to force
the breath or hold it to the point where you feel uncomfortable or confined.
You have to let the mind have its freedom. Simply keep watch over it to make
sure that it stays separate from its thoughts. If you try to force the breath
and pin the mind down, your body is going to feel restricted and you won't feel
at ease in your work. You'll start hurting here and aching there, and your legs
may fall asleep. So just let the mind be its natural self, keeping watch to
make sure that it doesn't slip out after external thoughts.
When we keep the mind from slipping out after its concepts, and concepts from
slipping into the mind, it's like closing our windows and doors to keep dogs,
cats, and thieves from slipping into our house. What this means is that we close
off our sense doors and don't pay any attention to the sights that come in by
way of the eyes, the sounds that come in by way of the ears, the smells that
come in by way of the nose, the tastes that come in by way of the tongue, the
tactile sensations that come in by way of the body, and the preoccupations that
come in by way of the mind. We have to cut off all the perceptions and concepts
-- good or bad, old or new -- that come in by way of these doors.
Cutting off concepts like this doesn't mean that we stop thinking. It simply
means that we bring our thinking inside to put it to good use by observing and
evaluating the theme of our meditation. If we put our mind to work in this way,
we won't be doing any harm to ourself or to our mind. Actually, our mind tends
to be working all the time, but the work it gets involved in is usually a lot
of nonsense, a lot of fuss and bother without any real substance. So we have
to find work of real value for it to do -- something that won't harm it, something
really worth doing. This is why we're doing breath meditation, focusing on our
breathing, focusing on our mind. Put aside all your other work and be intent
on doing just this and nothing else. This is the sort of attitude you need when
you meditate.
The Hindrances that come from our concepts of past and future are like weeds
growing in our field. They steal all the nutrients from the soil so that our
crops won't have anything to feed on and they make the place look like a mess.
They're of no use at all except as food for the cows and other animals that
come wandering through. If you let your field get filled with weeds this way,
your crops won't be able to grow. In the same way, if you don't clear your mind
of its preoccupation with concepts, you won't be able to make your heart pure.
Concepts are food only for the ignorant people who think they're delicious,
but sages don't eat them at all.
The five Hindrances -- sensual desire, ill will, torpor & lethargy, restlessness
& anxiety, and uncertainty -- are like different kinds of weeds. Restlessness
& anxiety is probably the most poisonous of the lot, because it makes us
distracted, unsettled, and anxious all at the same time. It's the kind of weed
with thorns and sharp-edged leaves. If you run into it, you're going to end
up with a stinging rash all over your body. So if you come across it, destroy
it. Don't let it grow in your field at all.
Breath meditation -- keeping the breath steadily in mind -- is the best method
the Buddha taught for wiping out these Hindrances. We use directed thought to
focus on the breath, and evaluation to adjust it. Directed thought is like a
plow; evaluation, like a harrow. If we keep plowing and harrowing our field,
weeds won't have a chance to grow, and our crops are sure to prosper and bear
abundant fruit.
The field here is our body. If we put a lot of thought and evaluation into our
breathing, the four properties of the body will be balanced and at peace. The
body will be healthy and strong, the mind relaxed and wide open, free from Hindrances.
When you've got your field cleared and leveled like this, the crops of your
mind -- the qualities of the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha -- are sure to prosper.
As soon as you bring the mind to the breath, you'll feel a sense of rapture
and refreshment. The four bases of attainment (iddhipada) -- the desire to practice,
persistence in the practice, intentness, and circumspection in your practice
-- will develop step by step. These four qualities are like the four legs of
a table that keep it stable and upright. They're a form of power that supports
our strength and our progress to higher levels.
To make another comparison, these four qualities are like the ingredients in
a health tonic. Whoever takes this tonic will have a long life. If you want
to die, you don't have to take it, but if you don't want to die, you have to
take a lot. The more you take it, the faster the diseases in your mind will
disappear. In other words, your defilements will die. So if you know that your
mind has a lot of diseases, this is the tonic for you.
The Art of Letting Go
August 17, 1956
When you sit and meditate, even if you don't gain any intuitive insights, make
sure at least that you know this much: When the breath comes in, you know. When
it goes out, you know. When it's long, you know. When it's short, you know.
Whether it's comfortable or uncomfortable, you know. If you can know this much,
you're doing fine. As for the various thoughts and concepts (sañña)
that come into the mind, brush them away -- whether they're good or bad, whether
they deal with the past or the future. Don't let them interfere with what you're
doing -- and don't go chasing after them to straighten them out. When a thought
of this sort comes passing in, simply let it go passing on. Keep your awareness,
unperturbed, in the present.
When we say that the mind goes here or there, it's not really the mind that
goes. Only concepts go. Concepts are like shadows of the mind. If the body is
still, how will its shadow move? The movement of the body is what causes the
shadow to move, and when the shadow moves, how will you catch hold of it? Shadows
are hard to catch, hard to shake off, hard to set still. The awareness that
forms the present: That's the true mind. The awareness that goes chasing after
concepts is just a shadow. Real awareness -- "knowing" -- stays in
place. It doesn't stand, walk, come, or go. As for the mind -- the awareness
that doesn't act in any way coming or going, forward or back -- it's quiet and
unperturbed. And when the mind is thus its normal, even, undistracted self --
i.e., when it doesn't have any shadows -- we can rest peacefully. But if the
mind is unstable, uncertain, and wavering, concepts arise and go flashing out
-- and we go chasing after them, hoping to drag them back in. The chasing after
them is where we go wrong. This is what we have to correct. Tell yourself: Nothing
is wrong with your mind. Just watch out for the shadows.
You can't improve your shadow. Say your shadow is black. You can scrub it with
soap till your dying day, and it'll still be black -- because there's no substance
to it. So it is with your concepts. You can't straighten them out, because they're
just images, deceiving you.
The Buddha thus taught that whoever isn't acquainted with the self, the body,
the mind, and its shadows, is suffering from avijja -- darkness, deluded knowledge.
Whoever thinks the mind is the self, the self is the mind, the mind is its concepts
-- whoever has things all mixed up like this -- is deluded and lost, like a
person lost in the jungle. To be lost in the jungle brings countless hardships.
There are wild beasts to worry about, problems in finding food to eat and a
place to sleep. No matter which way you look, there's no way out. But if we're
lost in the world, it's many times worse than being lost in the jungle, because
we can't tell night from day. We have no chance to find any brightness because
our minds are dark with avijja.
The purpose of training the mind to be still is to simplify things. When things
are simplified, the mind can settle down and rest. And when the mind has rested,
it'll gradually become bright, in and of itself, and give rise to knowledge.
But if we let things get complicated -- if we let the mind get mixed up with
sights, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile sensations, and ideas -- that's darkness.
Knowledge won't have a chance to arise.
When intuitive knowledge does arise, it can -- if you know how to use it --
lead to liberating insight. But if you let yourself get carried away by knowledge
of the past or future, you won't get beyond the mundane level. In other words,
if you dabble too much in knowledge of physical things, without gaining wisdom
with regard to the workings of the mind, it can leave you spiritually immature.
Say, for example, that a vision arises and you get hooked: You gain knowledge
of your past lives and get all excited. Things you never knew before, now you
can know. Things you never saw before, now you see -- and they can make you
overly pleased or upset. Why? Because you take them all too seriously. You may
see a vision of yourself prospering as a lord or master, a great emperor or
king, wealthy and influential. If you let yourself feel pleased, that's indulgence
in pleasure. You've strayed from the Middle Path. Or you may see yourself as
something you wouldn't care to be: a pig or a dog, a bird or a rat, crippled
or deformed. If you let yourself get upset, that's indulgence in self-affliction
-- and again, you've strayed from the path. Some people really let themselves
get carried away: As soon as they start seeing things, they begin to think that
they're special, somehow better than other people. They let themselves become
proud and conceited -- and the right path has disappeared without their even
knowing it. If you're not careful, this is where mundane knowledge can lead
you.
But if you keep one principle firmly in mind, you can stay right on the path:
Whatever appears, good or bad, true or false, don't let yourself feel pleased,
don't let yourself get upset. Keep the mind balanced and neutral, and discernment
will arise. You'll see that the vision or sign displays the truth of stress:
it arises (is born), fades (ages), and disappears (dies).
If you get hooked on your intuitions, you're asking for trouble. Knowledge that
proves false can hurt you. Knowledge that proves true can really hurt you. If
what you know is true, and you go telling other people, you're bragging. If
it turns out to be false, it can backfire on you. This is why those who truly
know say that knowledge is the essence of stress: It can hurt you. Knowledge
is part of the flood of views and opinions (ditthi-ogha) over which we have
to cross. If you hang onto knowledge, you've gone wrong. If you know, simply
know, and let it go at that. You don't have to be excited or pleased. You don't
have to go telling other people.
People who've studied abroad, when they come back to the rice fields, don't
tell what they've learned to the folks at home. They talk about ordinary things
in an ordinary way. The reason they don't talk about the things they've studied
is because (1) no one would understand them; (2) it wouldn't serve any purpose.
Even with people who would understand them, they don't display their learning.
So it should be when you practice meditation. No matter how much you know, you
have to act as if you know nothing, because this is the way people with good
manners normally act. If you go bragging to other people, it's bad enough. If
they don't believe you, it can get even worse.
So whatever you know, simply be aware of it and let it go. Don't let there be
the assumption that "I know." When you can do this, your mind can
attain the transcendent, free from attachment.
* * *
Everything in the world has its truth. Even things that aren't true are true
-- i.e., their truth is that they're false. This is why we have to let go of
both what's true and what's false. Once we know the truth and can let it go,
we can be at our ease. We won't be poor, because the truth -- the Dhamma --
will still be there with us. We won't be left empty-handed. It's like having
a lot of money: Instead of lugging it around with us, we keep it piled up at
home. We may not have anything in our pockets, but we're still not poor.
The same is true with people who really know. Even when they let go of their
knowledge, it's still there. This is why the minds of the Noble Ones aren't
left adrift. They let things go, but not in a wasteful or irresponsible way.
They let go like rich people: Even though they let go, they've still got piles
of wealth.
As for people who let things go like paupers, they don't know what's worthwhile
and what's not. When they throw away the things that are worthwhile, they're
simply heading for disaster. For instance, they may see that there's no truth
to anything -- no truth to the khandhas, no truth to the body, no truth to stress,
its cause, its disbanding, or the path to its disbanding, no truth to Liberation.
They don't use their brains at all. They're too lazy to do anything, so they
let go of everything, throw it all away. This is called letting go like a pauper.
Like a lot of modern-day sages: When they come back after they die, they're
going to be poor all over again.
As for the Buddha, he let go only of the true and false things that appeared
in his body and mind -- but he didn't abandon his body and mind, which is why
he ended up rich, with plenty of wealth to hand down to his descendants. This
is why his descendants never have to worry about being poor.
So we should look to the Buddha as our model. If we see that the khandhas are
worthless -- inconstant, stressful, not-self, and all that -- and simply let
go of them by neglecting them, we're sure to end up poor. Like a stupid person
who feels so repulsed by a festering sore on his body that he won't touch it
and so lets it go without taking care of it: There's no way the sore is going
to heal. As for intelligent people, they know how to wash their sores, put medicine
and bandages on them, so that eventually they're sure to recover.
In the same way, when people see only the drawbacks to the khandhas, without
seeing their good side, and so let them go without putting them to any worthwhile
or skillful use, nothing good will come of it. But if we're intelligent enough
to see that the khandhas have their good side as well as their bad, and then
put them to good use by meditating to gain discernment into physical and mental
phenomena, we're going to be rich. Once we have the truth -- the Dhamma -- as
our wealth, we won't suffer if we have money, and won't suffer if we don't,
for our minds will be transcendent. The various forms of rust -- greed, anger,
and delusion -- that have been obscuring our senses will all fall away. Our
eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body will be entirely clean, clear, and bright,
for as the Buddha said, the Dhamma -- discernment -- is like a lamp. Our mind,
far distant from all forms of trouble and suffering, will stay in the current
flowing on to Liberation.
At the Tip of Your Nose
August 26, 1957
When feelings of pain or discomfort arise while you're sitting in meditation,
examine them to see what they come from. Don't let yourself be pained or upset
by them. If there are parts of the body that won't go as you'd like them to,
don't worry about them. Let them be -- because your body is the same as every
other body, human or animal, throughout the world: It's inconstant, stressful,
and can't be forced. So stay with whatever part does go as you'd like it to,
and keep it comfortable. This is called dhamma-vicaya: being selective in what's
good.
* * *
The body is like a tree: No tree is entirely perfect. At any one time it'll
have new leaves and old leaves, green leaves and yellow, fresh leaves and dry.
The dry leaves will fall away first, while those that are fresh will slowly
dry out and fall away later. Some of the branches are long, some thick, and
some small. The fruits aren't evenly distributed. The human body isn't really
much different from this. Pleasure and pain aren't evenly distributed. The parts
that ache and those that are comfortable are randomly mixed. You can't rely
on it. So do your best to keep the comfortable parts comfortable. Don't worry
about the parts that you can't make comfortable.
It's like going into a house where the floorboards are beginning to rot: If
you want to sit down, don't choose a rotten spot. Choose a spot where the boards
are still sound. In other words, the heart needn't concern itself with things
that can't be controlled.
Or you can compare the body to a mango: If a mango has a rotten or a wormy spot,
take a knife and cut it out. Eat just the good part remaining. If you're foolish
enough to eat the wormy part, you're in for trouble. Your body is the same,
and not just the body -- the mind, too, doesn't always go as you'd like it to.
Sometimes it's in a good mood, sometimes it's not. This is where you have to
use as much thought and evaluation as possible.
Directed thought and evaluation are like doing a job. The job here is concentration:
centering the mind in stillness. Focus the mind on a single object and then
use your mindfulness and alertness to examine and reflect on it. If you use
a meager amount of thought and evaluation, your concentration will give meager
results. If you do a crude job, you'll get crude results. If you do a fine job,
you'll get fine results. Crude results aren't worth much. Fine results are of
high quality and are useful in all sorts of ways -- like atomic radiation, which
is so fine that it can penetrate even mountains. Crude things are of low quality
and hard to use. Sometimes you can soak them in water all day long and they
still don't soften up. But as for fine things, all they need is a little dampness
in the air and they dissolve.
So it is with the quality of your concentration. If your thinking and evaluation
are subtle, thorough, and circumspect, your "concentration work" will
result in more and more stillness of mind. If your thinking and evaluation are
slipshod and crude, you won't get much stillness. Your body will ache, and you'll
feel restless and irritable. Once the mind can become very still, though, the
body will be comfortable and at ease. Your heart will feel open and clear. Pains
will disappear. The elements of the body will feel normal: The warmth in your
body will be just right, neither too hot nor too cold. As soon as your work
is finished, it'll result in the highest form of happiness and ease: nibbana
-- Liberation. But as long as you still have work to do, your heart won't get
its full measure of peace. Wherever you go, there will always be something nagging
at the back of your mind. Once your work is done, though, you can be carefree
wherever you go.
If you haven't finished your job, it's because (1) you haven't set your mind
on it and (2) you haven't actually done the work. You've shirked your duties
and played truant. But if you really set your mind on doing the job, there's
no doubt but that you'll finish it.
Once you've realized that the body is inconstant, stressful, and can't be forced,
you should keep your mind on an even keel with regard to it. "Inconstant"
means that it changes. "Stressful" doesn't refer solely to aches and
pains. It refers to pleasure as well -- because pleasure is inconstant and undependable,
too. A little pleasure can turn into a lot of pleasure, or into pain. Pain can
turn back into pleasure, and so on. (If we had nothing but pain we would die.)
So we shouldn't be all that concerned about pleasure and pain. Think of the
body as having two parts, like the mango. If you focus your attention on the
comfortable part, your mind can be at peace. Let the pains be in the other part.
Once you have an object of meditation, you have a comfortable place for your
mind to stay. You don't have to dwell on your pains. You have a comfortable
house to live in: Why go sleep in the dirt?
We all want nothing but goodness, but if you can't tell what's good from what's
defiled, you can sit and meditate till your dying day and never find nibbana
at all. But if you're knowledgeable and intent on what you're doing, it's not
all that hard. Nibbana is really a simple matter because it's always there.
It never changes. The affairs of the world are what's hard because they're always
changing and uncertain. Today they're one way, tomorrow another. Once you've
done something, you have to keep looking after it. But you don't have to look
after nibbana at all. Once you've realized it, you can let it go. Keep on realizing,
keep on letting go -- like a person eating rice who, after he's put the rice
in his mouth, keeps spitting it out rather than letting it become feces in his
intestines.
What this means is that you keep on doing good but don't claim it as your own.
Do good and then spit it out. This is viraga-dhamma: disengagement. Most people
in the world, once they've done something, latch onto it as theirs -- and so
they have to keep looking after it. If they're not careful, it'll either get
stolen or else wear out on its own. They're headed for disappointment. Like
a person who swallows his rice: After he's eaten, he'll have to defecate. After
he's defecated he'll be hungry again, so he'll have to eat again and defecate
again. The day will never come when he's had enough. But with nibbana you don't
have to swallow. You can eat your rice and then spit it out. You can do good
and let it go. It's like plowing a field: The dirt falls off the plow on its
own. You don't need to scoop it up and put it in a bag tied to your water buffalo's
leg. Whoever is stupid enough to scoop up the dirt as it falls off the plow
and stick it in a bag will never get anywhere. Either his buffalo will get bogged
down, or else he'll trip over the bag and fall flat on his face right there
in the middle of the field. The field will never get plowed, the rice will never
get sown, the crop will never get gathered. He'll have to go hungry.
Buddho, our meditation word, is the name of the Buddha after his Awakening.
It means someone who has blossomed, who is awake, who has suddenly come to his
senses. For six long years before his Awakening, the Buddha traveled about,
searching for the truth from various teachers, all without success. So he went
off on his own and on a full-moon evening in May sat down under the Bodhi tree,
vowing not to get up until he had attained the truth. Finally, toward dawn,
as he was meditating on his breath, he gained Awakening. He found what he was
looking for -- right at the tip of his nose.
Nibbana doesn't lie far away. It's right at our lips, right at the tip of our
nose. But we keep groping around and never find it. If you're really serious
about finding purity, set your mind on meditation and nothing else. As for whatever
else may come your way, you can say, "No thanks." Pleasure? "No
thanks." Pain? "No thanks." Goodness? "No thanks."
Evil? "No thanks." Paths and fruitions? "No thanks." Nibbana?
"No thanks." If it's "no thanks" to everything, what will
you have left? You won't need to have anything left. That's nibbana. Like a
person without any money: How will thieves be able to rob him? If you get money
and try to hold onto it, you're going to get killed. This you want to take.
That you want to take. Carry "what's yours" around till you're completely
weighed down. You'll never get away.
In this world we have to live with both good and evil. People who have developed
disengagement are filled with goodness, and know evil fully, but don't hold
onto either, don't claim either as their own. They put them aside, let them
go, and so can travel light and easy. Nibbana isn't all that difficult a matter.
In the Buddha's time, some people became arahants while going on their almsround,
some while urinating, some while watching farmers plowing a field. What's difficult
about the highest good lies in the beginning, in laying the groundwork -- being
constantly mindful and alert, examining and evaluating your breath at all times.
But if you can keep at it, you're bound to succeed in the end.
The Care & Feeding of the Mind
May 7, 1959
The breath is a mirror for the mind. If the mirror is abnormal, it gives abnormal
reflections. Say you look into a convex mirror: Your reflection will be taller
than you are. If you look in a concave mirror, your reflection will be abnormally
short. But if you look into a mirror that's flat, smooth, and normal, it'll
give you a true reflection of yourself. If you polish the mirror so that it's
clean and bright -- in other words, if you use evaluation to adjust and expand
the breath so that it's comfortable -- your reflection will be sharp and clear.
* * *
Knowing how to adjust the breath, putting it in good order, is tantamount to
putting the mind in good order as well and can give all kinds of benefits --
like a good cook who knows how to vary the foods she serves, sometimes changing
the color, sometimes the flavor, sometimes the shape, so that her employer will
never grow tired of her cooking. If she fixes the same thing all year around
-- porridge today, porridge tomorrow, porridge the next day -- her employer
is bound to go looking for a new cook. But if she knows how to vary her offerings
so that her employer is always satisfied, she's sure to get a raise in her salary,
or maybe a special bonus.
So it is with the breath. If you know how to adjust and vary the breath -- if
you're always thinking about and evaluating the breath -- you'll become thoroughly
mindful and expert in all matters dealing with the breath and the other elements
of the body. You'll always know how things are going with the body. Rapture,
ease, and singleness of preoccupation will come on their own. The body will
be refreshed, the mind content. Both body and mind will be at peace. All the
elements will be at peace, free from unrest and disturbances.
It's like knowing how to look after a small child. If the child starts crying,
you know when to give it milk or candy, when to give it a bath, when to take
it out for some air, when to put it in a playpen and give it a doll to play
with. In no time at all, the child will stop crying, stop whining, and leave
you free to finish whatever work you have to do. The mind is like a small, innocent
child. If you're skilled at looking after it, it'll be obedient, happy, and
contented, and will grow day by day.
* * *
When the body and mind are full and content, they won't feel hungry. They won't
have to go opening up the pots and pans on the stove or pace around looking
out the windows and doors. They can sleep in peace without any disturbances.
Ghosts and demons -- the pains of the khandhas -- won't come and possess them.
This way we can be at our ease, because when we sit, we sit with people. When
we lie down, we lie down with people. When we eat, we eat with people. When
people live with people, there's no problem; but when they live with ghosts
and demons, they're sure to squabble and never find any peace. If we don't know
how to evaluate and adjust our breathing, there's no way our meditation will
give any results. Even if we sit till we die, we won't gain any knowledge or
understanding at all.
There was once an old monk -- 70 years old, 30 years in the monkhood -- who
had heard good things about how I teach meditation and so came to study with
me. The first thing he asked was, "What method do you teach?"
"Breath meditation," I told him. "You know -- bud-dho, bud-dho."
As soon as he heard that, he said, "I've been practicing that method ever
since the time of Ajaan Mun -- buddho, buddho ever since I was young -- and
I've never seen anything good come of it. All it does is buddho, buddho without
ever getting anywhere at all. And now you're going to teach me to buddho some
more. What for? You want me to buddho till I die?"
This is what happens when people have no sense of how to adjust and evaluate
their breathing: They'll never find what they're looking for -- which is why
adjusting and spreading the breath is a very important part of doing breath
meditation.
* * *
Getting to know yourself -- becoming acquainted with your body, your mind, the
elements (earth, water, fire, wind, space, and consciousness), knowing what
they come from, how they arise, how they disband, how they're inconstant, stressful,
and not-self: All of this you have to find out by exploring on your own. If
your knowledge simply follows what's in books or what other people tell you,
it's knowledge that comes from labels and concepts, not from your own discernment.
It's not really knowledge. If you know only what other people tell you, you're
following them down a road -- and what could be good about that? They might
lead you down the wrong road. And if the road is dusty, they might kick dust
into your ears and eyes. So in your search for the truth, don't simply believe
what other people say. Don't believe labels. Practice centering the mind until
you gain knowledge on your own. Only then will it be insight. Only then will
it be trustworthy.
"Just Right" Concentration
October 4, 1960
When you meditate, you have to think. If you don't think, you can't meditate,
because thinking forms a necessary part of meditation. Take jhana, for instance.
Use your powers of directed thought to bring the mind to the object, and your
powers of evaluation to be discriminating in your choice of an object. Examine
the object of your meditation until you see that it's just right for you. You
can choose slow breathing, fast breathing, short breathing, long breathing,
narrow breathing, broad breathing; hot, cool, or warm breathing; a breath that
goes only as far as the nose, a breath that goes only as far as the base of
the throat, a breath that goes all the way down to the heart. When you've found
an object that suits your taste, catch hold of it and make the mind one, focused
on a single object. Once you've done this, evaluate your object. Direct your
thoughts to making it stand out. Don't let the mind leave the object. Don't
let the object leave the mind. Tell yourself that it's like eating: Put the
food in line with your mouth, put your mouth in line with the food. Don't miss.
If you miss and go sticking the food in your ear, under your chin, in your eye,
or on your forehead, you'll never get anywhere in your eating.
So it is with your meditation. Sometimes the "one" object of your
mind takes a sudden sharp turn into the past, back hundreds of years. Sometimes
it takes off into the future and comes back with all sorts of things to clutter
your mind. This is like taking your food, sticking it up over your head, and
letting it fall down behind you -- the dogs are sure to get it; or like bringing
the food to your mouth and then tossing it out in front of you. When you find
this happening, it's a sign that your mind hasn't been made snug with its object.
Your powers of directed thought aren't firm enough. You have to bring the mind
to the object and then keep after it to make sure it stays put. Like eating:
Make sure the food is in line with the mouth and stick it right in. This is
directed thought: The food is in line with the mouth, the mouth is in line with
the food. You're sure it's food and you know what kind it is -- main course
or dessert, coarse or refined.
Once you know what's what, and it's in your mouth, chew it right up. This is
evaluation: examining, reviewing your meditation. Sometimes this comes under
threshold concentration -- examining a coarse object to make it more and more
refined. If you find that the breath is long, examine long breathing. If it's
short, examine short breathing. If it's slow, examine slow breathing -- to see
if the mind will stay with that kind of breathing, to see if that kind of breathing
will stay with the mind, to see whether the breath is smooth and unhindered.
This is evaluation.
When the mind gives rise to directed thought and evaluation, you have both concentration
and discernment. Directed thought and singleness of preoccupation fall under
the heading of concentration; evaluation, under the heading of discernment.
When you have both concentration and discernment, the mind is still and knowledge
can arise. But if there's too much evaluation, it can destroy your stillness
of mind. If there's too much stillness, it can snuff out thought. You have to
watch over the stillness of your mind to make sure you have things in the right
proportions. If you don't have a sense of "just right," you're in
for trouble. If the mind is too still, your progress will be slow. If you think
too much, it'll run away with your concentration.
So observe things carefully. Again, it's like eating. If you go shoveling food
into your mouth, you might end up choking to death. You have to ask yourself:
Is it good for me? Can I handle it? Are my teeth strong enough? Some people
have nothing but empty gums and yet they want to eat sugar cane: It's not normal.
Some people, even though their teeth are aching and falling out, still want
to eat crunchy foods. So it is with the mind: As soon as it's just a little
bit still, we want to see this, know that -- we want to take on more than we
can handle. You first have to make sure that your concentration is solidly based,
that your discernment and concentration are properly balanced. This point is
very important. Your powers of evaluation have to be ripe, your directed thought
firm.
Say you have a water buffalo, tie it to a stake, and pound the stake deep into
the ground. If your buffalo is strong, it just might walk or run away with the
stake. You have to know your buffalo's strength. If it's really strong, pound
the stake so that it's firmly in the ground and keep watch over it. In other
words, if you find that the obsessiveness of your thinking is getting out of
hand, going beyond the bounds of mental stillness, then fix the mind in place
and make it extra still -- but not so still that you lose track of things. If
the mind is too quiet, it's like being in a daze. You don't know what's going
on at all. Everything is dark, blotted out. Or else you have good and bad spells,
sinking out of sight and then popping up again. This is concentration without
directed thought or evaluation, with no sense of judgment: Wrong Concentration.
So you have to be observant. Use your judgment -- but don't let the mind get
carried away by its thoughts. Your thinking is something separate. The mind
stays with the meditation object. Wherever your thoughts may go spinning, your
mind is still firmly based -- like holding onto a post and spinning around and
around. You can keep on spinning, and yet it doesn't wear you out. But if you
let go of the post and spin around three times, you get dizzy and -- Bang! --
fall flat on your face. So it is with the mind: If it stays with the singleness
of its preoccupation, it can keep thinking and not get tired, not get harmed,
because your thinking and stillness are right there together. The more you think,
the more solid your mind gets. The more you sit and meditate, the more you think.
The mind becomes more and more firm until all the Hindrances (nivarana) fall
away. The mind no longer goes looking for concepts. Now it can give rise to
knowledge.
The knowledge here isn't ordinary knowledge. It washes away your old knowledge.
You don't want the knowledge that comes from ordinary thinking and reasoning:
Let go of it. You don't want the knowledge that comes from directed thought
and evaluation: Stop. Make the mind quiet. Still. When the mind is still and
unhindered, this is the essence of all that's skillful and good. When your mind
is on this level, it isn't attached to any concepts at all. All the concepts
you've known -- dealing with the world or the Dhamma, however many or few --
are washed away. Only when they're washed away can new knowledge arise.
This is why you should let go of concepts -- all the labels and names you have
for things. You have to let yourself be poor. It's when people are poor that
they become ingenious and resourceful. If you don't let yourself be poor, you'll
never gain discernment. In other words, you don't have to be afraid of being
stupid or of missing out on things. You don't have to be afraid that you've
hit a dead end. You don't want any of the insights you've gained from listening
to others or from reading books, because they're concepts and therefore inconstant.
You don't want any of the insights you've gained by reasoning and thinking,
because they're concepts and therefore not-self. Let all these insights disappear,
leaving just the mind, firmly intent, leaning neither to the left, toward being
displeased; nor to the right, toward being pleased. Keep the mind still, quiet,
neutral, impassive -- set tall. And there you are: Right Concentration.
When Right Concentration arises in the mind, it has a shadow. When you can catch
sight of the shadow appearing, that's vipassana: liberating insight.
The knowledge you gain from Right Concentration doesn't come in the form of
thoughts or ideas. It comes as Right Views. What looks wrong to you is really
wrong. What looks right is really right. If what looks right is really wrong,
that's Wrong View. If what looks wrong is really right, again -- Wrong View.
With Right View, though, right looks right and wrong looks wrong.
To put it in terms of cause and effect, you see the four Noble Truths. You see
stress, and it really is stressful. You see the cause of stress arising, and
that it's really causing stress. These are Noble Truths: absolutely, undeniably,
indisputably true. You see that stress has a cause. Once the cause arises, there
has to be stress. As for the way to the disbanding of stress, you see that the
path you're following will, without a doubt, lead to Liberation. Whether or
not you go all the way, what you see is correct. This is Right View. And as
for the disbanding of stress, you see that there really is such a thing. You
see that as long as you're on the path, stress does in fact fall away. When
you come to realize the truth of these things in your heart, that's vipassana-ñana.
To put it even more simply: You see that all things, inside as well as out,
are undependable. The body is undependable, aging is undependable, death is
undependable. They're slippery characters, constantly changing on you. To see
this is to see inconstancy. Don't let yourself be pleased by inconstancy. Don't
let yourself be upset. Keep the mind neutral, on an even keel. That's what's
meant by vipassana.
As for stress: Say we hear that an enemy is suffering. "Glad to hear it,"
we think. "Hope they hurry up and die." The heart has tilted. Say
we hear that a friend has become wealthy, and we become happy; or a son or daughter
is ill, and we become sad. Our mind has fallen in with suffering and stress.
Why? Because we're unskilled. The mind isn't centered -- i.e., it's not in Right
Concentration. We have to look after the mind. Don't let it fall in with stress.
Whatever suffers, let it suffer, but don't let the mind suffer with it. The
body may be in pain, but the mind isn't pained. Let the body go ahead and suffer,
but the mind doesn't suffer. Keep the mind neutral. Don't be pleased by pleasure
-- pleasure is a form of stress, you know. How so? It can change. It can rise
and fall. It can be high and low. It can't last. That's stress. Pain is also
stress: double stress. When you gain this sort of insight into stress -- when
you really see stress -- vipassana has arisen in the mind.
As for anatta, not-self: Once we've examined things and seen them for what they
really are, we don't make claims, we don't display influence, we don't try to
show that we have the right or the power to bring things that are not-self under
our control. No matter how hard we try, we can't prevent birth, aging, illness,
and death. If the body is going to be old, let it be old. If it's going to hurt,
let it hurt. If it has to die, let it die. Don't be pleased by death, either
your own or that of others. Don't be upset by death, your own or that of others.
Keep the mind neutral. Unruffled. Unfazed. This is sankharupekkha-ñana:
letting sankharas -- all things fashioned and fabricated -- follow their own
inherent nature.
This, briefly, is vipassana: You see that all fabrications are inconstant, stressful,
and not-self. You can disentangle them from your grasp. You can let go. This
is where it gets good. How so? You don't have to wear yourself out, lugging
sankharas around.
To be attached means to carry a load, and there are five heaps (khandhas) we
carry: attachment to physical phenomena, to feelings, to concepts and labels,
to mental fabrications, and to sensory consciousness. We grab hold and hang
onto these things, thinking that they're the self. Go ahead: Carry them around.
Hang one load from your left leg and one from your right. Put one on your left
shoulder and one on your right. Put the last load on your head. And now: Carry
them wherever you go -- clumsy, encumbered, and comical.
bhara have pañcakkhandha
Go ahead and carry them.
The five khandhas are a heavy load,
bharaharo ca puggalo
and as individuals we burden ourselves with them.
bharadanam dukkham loke
Carry them everywhere you go, and you waste your time
suffering in the world.
The Buddha taught that whoever lacks discernment, whoever is unskilled, whoever
doesn't practice concentration leading to liberating insight, will have to be
burdened with stress, will always be loaded down. It's a pity. It's a shame.
They'll never get away. Their legs are burdened, their shoulders burdened --
and where are they going? Three steps forward and two steps back. Soon they'll
get discouraged and then, after a while, they'll pick themselves up and get
going again.
Now, when we see inconstancy -- that all fabrications, whether within us or
without, are undependable; when we see that they're stressful; when we see that
they're not our self, that they simply whirl around in and of themselves: When
we gain these insights, we can put down our burdens, i.e., let go of our attachments.
We can put down the past -- i.e., stop dwelling in it. We can let go of the
future -- i.e., stop yearning for it. We can let go of the present -- i.e.,
stop claiming it as the self. Once these three big baskets have fallen from
our shoulders, we can walk with a light step. We can even dance. We're beautiful.
Wherever we go, people will be glad to know us. Why? Because we're not encumbered.
Whatever we do, we can do with ease. We can walk, run, dance, and sing -- all
with a light heart. We're Buddhism's beauty, a sight for sore eyes, graceful
wherever we go. No longer burdened, no longer encumbered, we can be at our ease.
This is vipassana-ñana.
Appendix
The earliest editions of Keeping the Breath in Mind contain a version of Step
3 in Method 2 that Ajaan Lee later shortened and revised to its present form.
Some people, though, find the original version helpful, so here it is:
3. Observe the breath as it goes in and out, noticing whether it's comfortable
or uncomfortable, broad or constricted, obstructed or free-flowing, fast or
slow, short or long, warm or cool. If the breath doesn't feel comfortable, adjust
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 breath feels
comfortable, let this comfortable breath sensation spread to the different parts
of your body. For example, each time you breathe in and out once, think of an
important part of the body, as follows:
As you let the breath pass into the bronchial tubes, think of it as going all
the way down the right side of your abdomen to the bladder.
As you take another in-and-out breath, think of the breath as going from the
main arteries to the liver and heart on down through your left side to the stomach
and intestines.
As you take another in-and-out breath, think of the breath as going from the
base of the throat all the way down the internal (front) side of the spine.
As you take another in-and-out breath, think of letting the breath go from the
base of the throat down the front of your chest through to the tip of the breastbone,
to the navel, and out into the air.
As you take another in-and-out breath, inhale the breath into the palate down
to the base of the throat, on through the middle of the chest to the large intestine,
the rectum, and out into the air.
Once you've completed these five turns inside the body, let the breath flow
along the outside of the body:
As you take an in-and-out breath, think of inhaling the breath at the base of
the skull and letting it go all the way down the external (back) side of the
spine.
Now, if you're male, think first of your right side, both with the legs and
with the arms. As you take an in-and-out breath, think of the right buttock
and of letting the breath run all the way down the right leg to the tips of
your toes.
As you take another in-and-out breath, think of the left buttock and of letting
the breath run all the way down the left leg to the tips of your toes.
As you take another in-and-out breath, think of the base of the skull and of
letting the breath run down your right shoulder, along your right arm to the
tips of your fingers.
As you take another in-and-out breath, inhale the breath into the base of the
skull and let it run down your left shoulder, along your arm to the tips of
your fingers.
As you take another in-and-out breath, inhale the breath into the area inside
your skull, thinking of your ears -- eyes -- nose -- mouth. (Men should think
of the right side first, with each part of the body: the right eye, right ear,
right nostril, right arm, right leg, etc.; women: the left eye, left ear, left
nostril, left arm, left leg, etc.)
Once you've finished, keep careful watch over your breath. Make the breath refined,
light, and free-flowing. Keep the mind steady and still in this breath. Make
your mindfulness and alertness thorough and circumspect. Let the various breath
sensations join and permeate throughout the body. Let the mind be neutral, impassive,
and well-composed.
Glossary
arahant: A Worthy One or Pure One -- i.e., a person whose heart is freed from
the fermentations of defilement and is thus not destined for further rebirth.
An epithet for the Buddha and the highest level of his Noble Disciples.
ariya sacca: Noble Truth. The word Noble (ariya) here can also mean ideal or
standard, and in this phrase carries the meaning of objective or universal truth.
There are four: stress, its cause, its disbanding, and the path of practice
leading to its disbanding.
asava: Fermentation; effluent -- mental defilements (sensuality, states of being,
views, and unawareness) in their role as causes of the flood of rebirth.
avijja: Unawareness, ignorance, obscured awareness, counterfeit knowledge.
ayatana: Sense medium. The inner sense media are the eyes, ears, nose, tongue,
body, and intellect. The outer sense media are their corresponding objects.
buddha (buddho): The mind's innate quality of pure knowingness, as distinct
from the themes with which it is preoccupied and its knowledge about those preoccupations.
dhamma: Event; phenomenon; the way things are in and of themselves; their inherent
qualities; the basic principles that underlie their behavior. Also, principles
of behavior that human beings ought to follow so as to fit in with the right
natural order of things; qualities of mind they should develop so as to realize
the inherent quality of the mind in and of itself. By extension, Dhamma refers
also to any doctrine that teaches such matters. To view things -- mental or
physical -- in terms of the Dhamma means to view them simply as events or phenomena,
as they are directly perceived in and of themselves, seeing the regularity of
the principles underlying their behavior. To view them in terms of the world
means to view them with regard to their meaning, role, or emotional coloring
-- i.e., in terms of how they fit into our view of life and the world.
dhatu: Element; potential; property; the elementary properties that make up
the inner sense of the body and mind: earth (solidity), water (liquidity), fire
(heat), wind (energy or motion), space, and consciousness. The breath is regarded
as an aspect of the wind property, and all feelings of energy in the body are
classed as breath sensations. According to ancient Indian and Thai physiology,
diseases come from an aggravation or imbalance in any of the first four of these
properties. Well-being is defined as a state in which none of them is dominant:
All are quiet, unaroused, balanced, and still.
ekaggatarammana: Singleness of object or preoccupation.
jhana: Meditative absorption in a single notion or sensation.
khandha: The component parts of sensory perception; physical and mental phenomena
as they are directly experienced: rupa (sensations, sense data), vedana (feelings
of pleasure, pain, or indifference), sañña (labels, names, concepts,
allusions), sankhara (mental fabrications, thought formations), viññana
(sensory consciousness).
lokavidu: An expert with regard to the cosmos -- an epithet normally used for
the Buddha.
magga-citta: The state of mind that forms the path leading to the transcendent
qualities culminating in Liberation. Phala-citta refers to the mental state
that follows immediately on magga-citta and experiences its fruit.
nibbana (nirvana): Liberation; the unbinding of the mind from greed, anger,
and delusion, from physical sensations and mental acts. As this term is used
to refer also to the extinguishing of fire, it carries connotations of stilling,
cooling, and peace. (According to the physics taught at the time of the Buddha,
the property of fire in a latent state exists to a greater or lesser extent
in all objects. When activated, it seizes and gets stuck to its fuel. When extinguished,
it is unbound.)
nimitta: Mental sign, theme, or image.
nivarana: Hindrance. The mental qualities that hinder the mind from becoming
centered are five: sensual desire, ill will, torpor & lethargy, restlessness
& anxiety, and uncertainty.
pali: The name of the most ancient recension of the Buddhist canon now extant
and -- by extension -- of the language in which it was composed.
samadhi: Concentration; the act of keeping the mind centered or intent on a
single preoccupation. The three levels of concentration -- momentary, threshold,
and fixed penetration -- can be understood in terms of the first three steps
in the section on jhana: Momentary concentration goes no further than step (a);
threshold concentration combines steps (a) and (c); fixed penetration combines
steps (a), (b), and (c) and goes on to include all higher levels of jhana.
sangha: The community of the Buddha's followers. On the conventional level,
this refers to the Buddhist monkhood. On the ideal (ariya) level, it refers
to those of the Buddha's followers -- whether lay or ordained -- who have practiced
to the point of gaining at least the first of the transcendent qualities culminating
in Liberation.
sankhara: Fabrication -- the forces and factors that fabricate things, the process
of fabrication, and the fabricated things that result. As the fourth khandha,
this refers to the act of fabricating thoughts, urges, etc., within the mind.
As a blanket term for all five khandhas, it refers to all things fabricated,
compounded, or fashioned by nature. 'Sankharupekkha-ñana' refers to a
stage of liberating insight in which all sankharas are viewed with a sense of
equanimity.
vipassana (-ñana): Liberating insight -- clear, intuitive discernment
into physical and mental phenomena as they arise and disappear, seeing them
for what they are in terms of the four Noble Truths and the characteristics
of inconstancy, stress, and "not-selfness."
If anything in this translation is inaccurate or misleading, I ask forgiveness
of the author and reader for having unwittingly stood in their way. As for whatever
may be accurate, I hope the reader will make the best use of it, translating
it a few steps further, into the heart, so as to attain the truth to which it
points.
-- The translator
Inquiries concerning this book may be addressed to: The Abbot, Metta Forest
Monastery, PO Box 1409, Valley Center, CA 92082.
Chant for the Dedication of Merit
Sabbe satta sada hontu
avera sukha-jivino
katam puñña-phalam mayham
sabbe bhagi bhavantu te
May all beings always live happily,
free from animosity.
May all share in the blessings
springing from the good I have done.
Revised: Mon 10 September 2001
http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/thai/lee/inmind.html