THE POWER OF MINDFULNESS
An Inquiry into the Scope of Bare Attention
and the Principal Sources of its Strength
by
Nyanaponika There
The Wheel Publication No. 121/122
BUDDHIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY
KANDY SRI LANKA
Copyright 1968 Buddhist Publication Society
ISBN 955-24-000 2-3
First Printing 1968
Second Printing 1971
Third Printing 1976
Fourth Printing 1980
Fifth Printing (revised) 1986
* * *
DharmaNet Edition 1994
This electronic edition is offered for free distribution
via DharmaNet by arrangement with the publisher.
DharmaNet International
P.O. Box 4951, Berkeley CA 94704-4951
Transcribed for DharmaNet by Maureen Riordan
* * * * * * * *
CONTENTS
Introduction
Four Sources of Power in Bare Attention
1. The Functions of "Tidying" and "Naming"
Tidying Up the Mental Household
Naming
2. The Non-coercive Procedure
Obstacles to Meditation
Three Countermeasures
3. Stopping and Slowing Down
Keeping Still
Spontaneity
Slowing Down
Subliminal Influences
4. Directness of Vision
The Force of Habit
Associative Thought
The Sense of Urgency
The Road to Insight
Notes
Further Reading
About the BPS
Distribution Agreement
* * * * * * * *
INTRODUCTION
Is mindfulness actually a power in its own right as claimed by the
title of this essay? Seen from the viewpoint of the ordinary
pursuits of life, it does not seem so. From that angle mindfulness,
or attention, has a rather modest place among many other seemingly
more important mental faculties serving the purpose of variegated
wish-fulfillment. Here, mindfulness means just "to watch one's
steps" so that one may not stumble or miss a chance in the pursuit
of one's aims. Only in the case of specific tasks and skills is
mindfulness sometimes cultivated more deliberately, but here too it
is still regarded as a subservient function, and its wider scope
and possibilities are not recognized.
Even if one turns to the Buddha's doctrine, taking only a surface
view of the various classifications and lists of mental factors in
which mindfulness appears, one may be inclined to regard this
faculty just as "one among many." Again one may get the impression
that it has a rather subordinate place and is easily surpassed in
significance by other faculties.
Mindfulness in fact has, if we may personify it, a rather
unassuming character. Compared with it, mental factors such as
devotion, energy, imagination, and intelligence, are certainly more
colorful personalities, making an immediate and strong impact on
people and situations. Their conquests are sometimes rapid and
vast, though often insecure. Mindfulness, on the other hand, is of
an unobtrusive nature. Its virtues shine inwardly, and in ordinary
life most of its merits are passed on to other mental faculties
which generally receive all the credit. One must know mindfulness
well and cultivate its acquaintance before one can appreciate its
value and its silent penetrative influence. Mindfulness walks
slowly and deliberately, and its daily task is of a rather humdrum
nature. Yet where it places its feet it cannot easily be dislodged,
and it acquires and bestows true mastery of the ground it covers.
Mental faculties of such a nature, like actual personalities of a
similar type, are often overlooked or underrated. In the case of
mindfulness, it required a genius like the Buddha to discover the
"hidden talent" in the modest garb, and to develop the vast
inherent power of that potent seed. It is, indeed, the mark of a
genius to perceive and to harness the power of the seemingly small.
Here, truly, it happens that "what is little becomes much." A
revaluation of values takes place. The standards of greatness and
smallness change. Through the master mind of the Buddha,
mindfulness is finally revealed as the Archimedean point where the
vast revolving mass of world suffering is levered out of its
twofold anchorage in ignorance and craving.
The Buddha spoke of the power of mindfulness in a very emphatic
way:
"Mindfulness, I declare, is all-helpful" (Samyutta, 46:59).
"All things can be mastered by mindfulness" (Anguttara, 8:83).
Further, there is that solemn and weighty utterance opening and
concluding the Satipatthana Sutta, the Discourse on the Foundations
of Mindfulness:
"This is the only way, monks, for the purification of beings,
for the overcoming of sorrow and lamentation, for the
destruction of pain and grief, for reaching the right path,
for the attainment of Nibbana, namely the four foundations of
mindfulness."
In ordinary life, if mindfulness, or attention, is directed to any
object, it is rarely sustained long enough for the purpose of
careful and factual observation. Generally it is followed
immediately by emotional reaction, discriminative thought,
reflection, or purposeful action. In a life and thought governed by
the Buddha's teaching too, mindfulness (//sati//) is mostly linked
with clear comprehension (//sampajanna//) of the right purpose or
suitability of an action, and other considerations. Thus again it
is not viewed in itself. But to tap the actual and potential
//power// of mindfulness it is necessary to understand and
deliberately cultivate it in its basic, unalloyed form, which we
shall call //bare attention//.
By bare attention we understand the clear and single-minded
awareness of what actually happens //to// us and //in// us, at the
successive moments of perception. It is called "bare" because it
attends to the bare facts of a perception without reacting to them
by deed, speech or mental comment. Ordinarily, that purely
receptive state of mind is, as we said, just a very brief phase of
the thought process of which one is often scarcely aware. But in
the methodical development of mindfulness aimed at the unfolding of
its latent powers, bare attention is sustained for as long a time
as one's strength of concentration permits. Bare attention then
becomes the key to the meditative practice of satipatthana, opening
the door to mind's mastery and final liberation.
Bare attention is developed in two ways: (1) as a methodical
meditative practice with selected objects; (2) as applied, as far
as practicable, to the normal events of the day, together with a
general attitude of mindfulness and clear comprehension. The
details of the practice have been described elsewhere, and need not
be repeated here.[1]
The primary purpose of this essay is to demonstrate and explain the
efficacy of this method, that is, to show the actual power of
mindfulness. Particularly in an age like ours, with its
superstitious worship of ceaseless external activity, there will be
those who ask: "How can such a passive attitude of mind as that of
bare attention possibly lead to the great results claimed for it?"
In reply, one may be inclined to suggest to the questioner not to
rely on the words of others, but to put these assertions of the
Buddha to the test of personal experience. But those who do not yet
know the Buddha's teaching well enough to accept it as a reliable
guide, may hesitate to take up, without good reasons, a practice
that just on account of its radical simplicity may appear strange
to them. In the following a number of such "good reasons" are
therefore proffered for the reader's scrutiny. They are also meant
as an introduction to the general spirit of satipatthana and as
pointers to its wide and significant perspectives. Furthermore, it
is hoped that he who has taken up the methodical training will
recognize in the following observations certain features of his own
practice, and be encouraged to cultivate them deliberately.
* * *
FOUR SOURCES OF POWER IN BARE ATTENTION
We shall now deal with four aspects of bare attention, which are
the mainsprings of the power of mindfulness. they are not the only
sources of its strength, but they are the principal ones to which
the efficacy of this method of mental development is due. These
four are:
1. The functions of "tidying-up" and "naming" exercised by
bare attention.
2. its non-violent, non-coercive procedure;
3. the capacity of stopping and slowing down;
4. the directness of vision bestowed by bare attention.
* * *
1. THE FUNCTIONS OF "TIDYING" AND "NAMING"
Tidying Up the Mental Household
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If anyone whose mind is not harmonized and controlled through
methodical meditative training should take a close look at his own
everyday thoughts and activities, he will meet with a rather
disconcerting sight. Apart from the few main channels of his
purposeful thoughts and activities, he will everywhere be faced
with a tangled mass of perceptions, thoughts, feelings, and casual
bodily movements showing a disorderliness and confusion which he
would certainly not tolerate in his living-room. Yet this is the
state of affairs that we take for granted within a considerable
portion of our waking life and our normal mental activity. Let us
now look at the details of that rather untidy picture.
First we meet a vast number of casual sense-impressions such as
sights and sounds, passing constantly through our mind. Most of
them remain vague and fragmentary; some are even based on faulty
perceptions and misjudgments. Carrying these inherent weaknesses,
they often form the untested basis for judgements and decisions on
a higher level of consciousness. True, all these casual sense
impressions need not and cannot be objects of focused attention. A
stone on the road that happens to meet our glance will have a claim
on our attention only if it obstructs our progress or is of
interest to us for some reason. Yet if we neglect these casual
impressions too often, we may stumble over many stones lying on our
road and also overlook many gems.
Besides the casual sense impressions, there are those more
significant and definite perceptions, thoughts, feelings and
volitions which have a closer connection with our purposeful life.
Here too, we find that a very high proportion of them are in a
state of utter confusion. Hundreds of cross-currents flash through
the mind, and everywhere there are "bits and ends" of unfinished
thoughts, stifled emotions and passing moods. Many meet a premature
death. Owing to their innately feeble nature, our lack of
concentration or suppression by new and stronger impressions, they
do not persist and develop. If we observe our own mind, we shall
notice how easily diverted our thoughts are, how often they behave
like undisciplined disputants constantly interrupting each other
and refusing to listen to the other side's arguments. Again, many
lines of thought remain rudimentary or are left untranslated into
will and action, because courage is lacking to accept their
practical, moral or intellectual consequences. If we continue to
examine more closely our average perceptions, thoughts or
judgements, we shall have to admit that many of them are
unreliable. They are just the products of habit, led by prejudices
of intellect or emotion, by our pet preferences or aversions, by
laziness or selfishness, by faulty or superficial observations.
Such a look into long-neglected quarters of the mind will come as
a wholesome shock to the observer. It will convince him of the
urgent need for methodical mental culture extending below the thin
surface layer of the mind to those vast twilight regions of
consciousness we have just visited. The observer will then become
aware that the relatively small sector of the mind that stands in
the intense light of purposeful will and thought is not a reliable
standard of the inner strength and lucidity of consciousness in its
totality. He will also see that the quality of individual
consciousness cannot be judged by a few optimal results of mental
activity achieved in brief, intermittent periods. The decisive
factor in determining the quality of consciousness is self-
understanding and self-control: whether that dim awareness
characteristic of our everyday mind and the uncontrolled portion of
everyday activity tends to increase or decrease.
It is the daily little negligence in thoughts, words and deeds
going on for many years of our life (and as the Buddha teaches, for
many existences), that is chiefly responsible for the untidiness
and confusion we find in our minds. This negligence creates the
trouble and allows it to continue. Thus the old Buddhist teachers
have said: "Negligence produces a lot of dirt. As in a house, so in
the mind, only a very little dirt collects in a day or two, but if
it goes on for many years, it will grow into a vast heap of
refuse."[2]
The dark, untidy corners of the mind are the hideouts of our most
dangerous enemies. From there they attack us unawares, and much too
often succeed in defeating us. That twilight world peopled by
frustrated desires and suppressed resentments, by vacillations,
whims, and many other shadowy figures, forms a background from
which upsurging passions--greed and lust, hatred and anger--may
derive powerful support. Besides, the obscure and obscuring nature
of that twilight region is the very element and mother-soil of the
third and strongest of the three roots of evil (//akusala mula//),
ignorance or delusion.
Attempts at eliminating the mind's main defilements--greed, hate
and delusion--must fail as long as these defilements find refuge
and support in the uncontrolled dim regions of the mind; as long as
the close and complex tissue of those half-articulate thoughts and
emotions forms the basic texture of mind into which just a few
golden strands of noble and lucid thought are woven. But how are we
to deal with that unwieldy, tangled mass? Usually we try to ignore
it and to rely on the counteracting energies of our surface mind.
But the only safe remedy is to face it--with mindfulness. Nothing
more difficult is needed than to acquire the habit of directing
bare attention to these rudimentary thoughts as often as possible.
The working principle here is the simple fact that two thoughts
cannot coexist at the same time: if the clear light of mindfulness
is present, there is no room for mental twilight. When sustained
mindfulness has secured a firm foothold, it will be a matter of
comparatively secondary importance how the mind will then deal with
those rudimentary thoughts, moods and emotions. One may just
dismiss them and replace them by purposeful thoughts; or one may
allow and even compel them to complete what they have to say. In
the latter case they will often reveal how poor and weak they
actually are, and it will then not be difficult to dispose of them
once they are forced into the open. This procedure of bare
attention is very simple and effective; the difficulty is only the
persistence in applying it.
Observing a complex thing means identifying its component parts,
singling out the separate strands forming that intricate tissue. If
this is applied to the complex currents of mental and practical
life, automatically a strong regulating influence will be
noticeable. As if ashamed in the presence of the calmly observing
eye, the course of thoughts will proceed in a less disorderly and
wayward manner; it will not be so easily diverted, and will
resemble more and more a well-regulated river.
During decades of the present life and throughout millennia of
previous lives traversing the round of existence, there has
steadily grown within each individual a closely knit system of
intellectual and emotional prejudices, of bodily and mental habits
that are no longer questioned as to their rightful position and
useful function in human life. Here again, the application of bare
attention loosens the hard soil of these often very ancient layers
of the human mind, preparing thus the ground for sowing the seed of
methodical mental training. Bare attention identifies and pursues
the single threads of that closely interwoven tissue of our habits.
It sorts out carefully the subsequent justifications of passionate
impulses and the pretended motives of our prejudices. Fearlessly it
questions old habits often grown meaningless. It uncovers their
roots, and thus helps abolish all that is seen to be harmful. In
brief, bare attention lays open the minute crevices in the
seemingly impenetrable structure of unquestioned mental processes.
Then the sword of wisdom wielded by the strong arm of constant
meditative practice will be able to penetrate these crevices, and
finally to break up that structure where required. If the inner
connection between the single parts of a seemingly compact whole
become intelligible, they then cease to be inaccessible.
When the facts and details of the mind's conditioned nature are
uncovered by meditative practice, there is an increased chance to
effect fundamental changes in the mind. In that way, not only those
hitherto unquestioned habits of the mind, its twilight regions and
its normal processes as well, but even those seemingly solid,
indisputable facts of the world of matter--all will become
"questionable" and lose much of their self-assurance. Many people
are so impressed and intimidated by that bland self-assurance of
assumed "solid facts," that they hesitate to take up any spiritual
training, doubting that it can effect anything worthwhile. The
application of bare attention to the task of tidying and regulating
the mind will bring perceptible results--results which will dispel
their doubts and encourage them to enter more fully a spiritual
path.
The tidying or regulating function of bare attention, we should
note, is of fundamental importance for the "purification of beings"
mentioned by the Buddha as the first aim of satipatthana. This
phrase refers, of course, to the purification of their minds, and
here the very first step is to bring initial order into the
functioning of the mental processes. We have seen how this is done
by bare attention. In that sense, the commentary to the "Discourse
on the Foundation of Mindfulness" explains the words "for the
purification of beings" as follows:
"It is said: 'Mental taints defile beings; mental clarity
purifies them.' That mental clarity comes to be by this way of
mindfulness (//satipatthana magga//).
Naming
~~~~~~
We said before that bare attention "tidies up" or regulates the
mind by sorting out and identifying the various confused strands of
the mental process. That identifying function, like any other
mental activity, is connected with a verbal formulation. In other
words, "identifying" proceeds by way of expressly "naming" the
respective mental processes.
Primitive man believed that words could exercise a magical power:
"things that could be named had lost their secret power over man,
the horror of the unknown. To know the name of a force, a being or
an object was (to primitive man) identical with the mastery over
it."[3] That ancient belief in the magical potency of names appears
also in many fairy tales and myths, where the power of a demon is
broken just by facing him courageously and pronouncing his name.
There is an element of truth in the "word-magic" of primitive man,
and in the practice of bare attention we will find the power of
naming confirmed. The "twilight demons" of the mind--our passionate
impulses and obscure thoughts--cannot bear the simple but
clarifying questions about their "names," much less the knowledge
of these names. Hence, this is often alone sufficient to diminish
their strength. The calmly observant glance of mindfulness
discovers the demons in their hiding-places. The practice of
calling them by their names drives them out into the open, into the
daylight of consciousness. There they will feel embarrassed and
obliged to justify themselves, although at this stage of bare
attention they have not yet even been subjected to any closer
questioning except about their names, their identity. If forced
into the open while still in an incipient stage, they will be
incapable of withstanding scrutiny and will just dwindle away. Thus
a first victory over them may be won, even at an early stage of the
practice.
The appearance in the mind of undesirable and ignoble thoughts,
even if they are very fleeting and only half-articulate, has an
unpleasant effect upon one's self-esteem. Therefore such thoughts
are often shoved aside, unattended to and unopposed. Often they are
also camouflaged by more pleasing and respectable labels which hide
their true nature. Thoughts disposed of in either of these two ways
will strengthen the accumulated power of ignoble tendencies in the
subconscious. Furthermore, these procedures will weaken one's will
to resist the arising and the dominance of mental defilements, and
strengthen the tendency to evade the issues. But by applying the
simple method of clearly and honestly naming or registering any
undesirable thoughts, these two harmful devices, ignorance and
camouflage, are excluded. Thence their detrimental consequences on
the structure of the subconscious and their diversion of mental
effort will be avoided.
When ignoble thoughts or personal shortcomings are called by their
right names, the mind will develop an inner resistance and even
repugnance against them. In time it may well succeed in keeping
them in check and finally eliminating them. Even if these means do
not bring undesirable tendencies fully under control at once, they
will stamp upon them the impact of repeated resistance which will
weaken them whenever they reappear. To continue our
personification, we may say that unwholesome thoughts will no
longer be the unopposed masters of the scene, and this diffidence
of theirs will make them considerably easier to deal with. It is
the power of moral shame (//hiri-bala//) that has been mustered
here as an ally, methodically strengthened by these simple yet
subtle psychological techniques.
The method of naming and registering also extends, of course, to
noble thoughts and impulses which will be encouraged and
strengthened. Without being given deliberate attention, such
wholesome tendencies often pass unnoticed and remain barren. But
when clear awareness is applied to them, it will stimulate their
growth.
It is one of the most beneficial features of right mindfulness, and
particularly of bare attention, that it enables us to utilize all
external events and inner mental events for our progress. Even the
unsalutary can be made a starting point for the salutary if,
through the device of naming or registering, it becomes an object
of detached knowledge.
In several passages of the Satipatthana Sutta the function of
naming or "bare registering" seems to be indicated by formulating
the respective statements by way of direct speech. There are no
less than four such instances in the discourse:
(1) "When experiencing a pleasant feeling, he knows 'I
experience a pleasant feeling'," etc.;
(2) "He knows a lustful (state of) mind, 'Mind is
lustful'," etc.;
(3) "If (the hindrance of) sense desire is present in him, he
knows, 'Sense desire is present in me'," etc.;
(4) "If the enlightenment factor mindfulness is present in him,
he knows, 'The enlightenment factor mindfulness is present
in me'," etc.
In concluding this section, we briefly point out that the
//tidying-up// and //naming// of mental processes is the
indispensable preparation for fully understanding them in their
true nature, the task of insight (//vipassana//). These functions,
exercised by bare attention, will help dispel the illusion that the
mental processes are compact. They will also help us to discern
their specific nature or characteristics, and to notice their
momentary rise and fall.
* * *
2. THE NON-COERCIVE PROCEDURE
Obstacles to Meditation
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Both the world surrounding us and the world of our own minds are
full of hostile and conflicting forces causing us pain and
frustration. We know from our own bitter experience that we are not
strong enough to meet and conquer all these antagonistic forces in
open combat. In the external world we cannot have everything
exactly as we want it, while in the inner world of the mind, our
passions, impulses, and whims often override the demands of duty,
reason and our higher aspirations.
We further learn that often an undesirable situation will only
worsen if excessive pressure is used against it. Passionate desires
may grow in intensity if one tries to silence them by sheer force
of will. Disputes and quarrels will go on endlessly and grow
fiercer if they are fanned again and again by angry retorts or by
vain attempts to crush the other man's position. A disturbance
during work, rest or meditation will be felt more strongly and will
have a longer-lasting impact if one reacts to it by resentment and
anger and attempts to suppress it.
Thus, again and again, we meet with situations in life where we
cannot //force// issues. But there are ways of mastering the
vicissitudes of life and conflicts of mind without applications of
force. Non-violent means may often succeed where attempts at
coercion, internal or external, fail. Such a non-violent way of
mastering life and mind is satipatthana. By the methodical
application of bare attention, the basic practice in the
development of right mindfulness, all the latent powers of a non-
coercive approach will gradually unfold, with the beneficial
results and their wide and unexpected implications. In this context
we are mainly concerned with the benefits of Satipatthana for the
mastery of mind, and for the progress in meditation that may result
from a non-coercive procedure. But we shall also cast occasional
side glances at its repercussions on everyday life. It will not be
difficult for a thoughtful reader to make more detailed application
to his own problems.
The antagonistic forces that appear in meditation and that are
liable to upset its smooth course are of three kinds:
1. external disturbances, such as noise;
2. mental defilements (//kilesa//), such as lust, anger,
restlessness, dissatisfaction, or sloth, which may arise at
any time during meditation; and
3. various incidental stray thoughts, or surrender to day-
dreaming.
These distractions are the great stumbling blocks for a beginner in
meditation who has not yet acquired sufficient dexterity to deal
with them effectively. To give thought to those disturbing factors
only when they actually arise at the time of meditation is
insufficient. If caught unprepared in one's defence, one will
struggle with them in a more or less haphazard and ineffective way,
and with a feeling of irritation which will itself be an additional
impediment. If disturbances of any kind and unskillful reactions to
them occur several times during one session, one may come to feel
utterly frustrated and irritated and give up further attempts to
meditate, at least for the present occasion.
In fact, even meditators who are quite well informed by books or a
teacher about all the details concerning their subject of
meditation often lack instruction on how to deal skillfully with
the disturbances they may meet. The feeling of helplessness in
facing them is the most formidable difficulty for a beginning
meditator. At that point many accept defeat, abandoning prematurely
any further effort at methodical practice. As in worldly affairs,
so in meditation, one's way of dealing with the "initial
difficulties" will often be decisive for success or failure.
When faced by inner and outer disturbances, the inexperienced or
uninstructed beginner will generally react in two ways. He will
first try to shove them away lightly, and if he fails in that, he
will try to suppress them by sheer force of will. But these
disturbances are like insolent flies: by whisking--first lightly
and then with increasing vigor and anger--one may perhaps succeed
in driving them away for a while, but usually they will return with
an exasperating constancy, and the effort and vexation of whisking
will have produced only an additional disturbance of one's
composure.
Satipatthana, through its method of bare attention, offers a non-
violent alternative to those futile and even harmful attempts at
suppression by force. A successful non-violent procedure in mind-
control has to start with the right attitude. There must be first
the full cognizance and sober acceptance of the fact that those
three disturbing factors are co-inhabitants of the world we live
in, whether we like it or not. Our disapproval of them will not
alter the fact. With some we shall have to come to terms, and
concerning the others--the mental defilements--we shall have to
learn how to deal with them effectively until they are finally
conquered.
1. Since we are not the sole inhabitants of this densely populated
world, there are bound to be //external disturbances// of various
kinds, such as noise and interruptions by visitors. We cannot
always live in "splendid isolation," "from the noise of men and
dogs untroubled," or "ivory towers" high above the crowd. Right
meditation is not escapism; it is not meant to provide hiding-
places for temporary oblivion. Realistic meditation has the purpose
of training the mind to face, to understand and to conquer this
very world in which we live. And this world inevitably includes
numerous obstacles to the life of meditation.
2. The Burmese meditation master, the Venerable Mahasi Sayadaw said:
"In an unliberated worldling //mental defilements// are sure to
arise again and again. He has to face that fact and know these
defilements well in order to apply again and again the appropriate
remedy of Satipatthana. Then they will grow weaker, more short-
lived, and will finally disappear." To know the occurrence and
nature of defilements is therefore as important for a meditator as
to know the occurrence of his noble thoughts.
By facing one's own defilements one will be stirred to increase the
effort to eliminate them. On the other hand, if out of a false
shame or pride one tries to avert one's glance when they arise, one
will never truly join issue with them, and will always evade the
final and decisive encounter. By hitting blindly at them, one will
only exhaust or even hurt oneself. But by observing carefully their
nature and behavior when they arise in one's own mind, one will be
able to meet them well prepared, to forestall them often, and
finally to banish them fully. Therefore meet your defilements with
a free and open glance! Be not ashamed, afraid or discouraged!
3. The third group of intruders disturbing the meditator's mind are
//stray thoughts// and //daydreams//. These may consist of various
memories and images of the past, recent or remote, including those
emerging from subconscious depths; thoughts of the future--
planning, imagining, fearing, hoping; and the casual sense-
perceptions that may occur at the very time of meditation, often
dragging after them a long trail of associated ideas. Whenever
concentration and mindfulness slacken, stray thoughts or daydreams
appear and fill the vacuum. Though they seem insignificant in
themselves, through their frequent occurrence they form a most
formidable obstacle, not only for the beginner, but in all cases
when the mind is restless or distracted. However, when these
invaders can be kept at bay, even long continuous periods of
meditation can be achieved. As in the case of the mental
defilements, stray thoughts will be entirely excluded only at the
stage of Arahatship, when the perfect mindfulness thereby obtained
keeps unfailing watch at the door of the mind.
If they are to shape our attitude, all these facts about the three
kinds of disturbing factors must be given full weight and be fully
absorbed by our mind. Then, in these three disturbing factors, the
noble truth of suffering will manifest itself to the meditator very
incisively through his own personal experience: "Not to obtain what
one wants is suffering." The three other noble truths should also
be exemplified by reference to the same situation. In such a way,
even when dealing with impediments, the meditator will be within
the domain of Satipatthana. He will be engaged in the mindful
awareness of the Four Noble Truths--a part of the contemplation of
mental objects (//dhammanupassana//).[4] It is characteristic of
right mindfulness, and one of its tasks, to relate the actual
experiences of life to the truth of the Dhamma, and to use them as
opportunities for its practical realization. Already at the
preliminary stage devoted to the shaping of a correct and helpful
attitude, we have the first successful test of our peaceful
weapons: by understanding our adversaries better, we have
consolidated our position which was formerly weakened by an
emotional approach; and by transforming these adversaries into
teachers of the truths, we have won the first advantage over them.
Three Countermeasures
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If we are mentally prepared by a realistic view of these three
factors antagonistic to meditation, we shall be less inclined to
react at once by irritation when they actually arise. We shall be
emotionally in a better position to meet them with the non-violent
weapons of which we shall now speak.
There are three devices for countering disturbances that arise in
meditation. The three should be applied in succession whenever the
preceding device has failed to dispose of the disturbance. All
three are applications of bare attention; they differ in the degree
and duration of attention given to the disturbance. The guiding
rule here is: to give no more mental emphasis to the respective
disturbance than is actually required by circumstances.
1. First, one should notice the disturbance clearly, but lightly:
that is, without emphasis and without attention to details. After
that brief act of noticing, one should try to return to the
original subject of meditation. If the disturbance was weak or
one's preceding concentration fairly strong, one may well succeed
in resuming contemplation. At that stage, by being careful not to
get involved in any "conversation" or argument with the intruder,
we shall on our part not give it a reason to stay long; and in a
good number of cases the disturbance will soon depart like a
visitor who does not receive a very warm welcome. That curt
dismissal may often enable us to return to our original meditation
without any serious disturbance to the composure of mind.
The non-violent device here is: to apply bare attention to the
disturbance, but with a minimum of response to it, and with a mind
bent on withdrawal. This is the very way in which the Buddha
himself dealt with inopportune visitors, as described in the
Mahasunnata Sutta: "...with a mind bent on seclusion...and
withdrawn, his conversation aiming at dismissing (those visitors)."
Similar was Shantideva's advice on how to deal with fools: if one
cannot avoid them, one should treat them "with the indifferent
politeness of a gentleman."
2. If, however, the disturbance persists, one should repeat the
application of bare attention again and again, patiently and
calmly; and it may be that the disturbance will vanish when it has
spent its force. Here the attitude is to meet the repeated
occurrence of a disturbance by a reiterated "No," a determined
refusal to be deflected from one's course. This is the attitude of
patience and firmness. The capacity for watchful observation has to
be aided here by the capacity to wait and to hold one's ground.
These two devices will generally be successful with incidental
stray thoughts and daydreams, which are feeble by nature, but the
other two types of disturbances, the external ones and defilements,
may also yield quite often.
3. But if, for some reason, the do //not// yield, one should
deliberately turn one's full attention to the disturbance and make
it an object of knowledge. Thus one transforms it from a
//disturbance// to meditation into a legitimate //object// of
meditation. One may continue with that new object until the
external or internal cause for attending to it has ceased; or, if
it proves satisfactory, one may even retain it for the rest of that
session.
For instance, when disturbed by a persistent noise, we should give
the noise our undivided attention, but we should take care to
distinguish the object itself from our reaction to it. For example,
if resentment arises, it should be clearly recognized in its own
nature whenever it arises. In doing so we shall be practicing the
contemplation of mind-objects (//dhammanupassana//) according to
the following passage of the Satipatthana Sutta; "He knows the ear
and sounds, and the fetter (e.g. resentment) arising through both."
If the noise is intermittent or of varying intensity, one will
easily be able to discern the rise and fall (//udayabbaya//) in its
occurrence. In that way one will add to one's direct insight into
impermanency (//aniccata//).
The attitude towards recurrent mental defilements such as thoughts
of lust and restlessness, should be similar. One should face them
squarely, but distinguish them from one's reaction to them, e.g.
connivance, fear, resentment, irritation. In doing so, one is
making use of the device of "naming," and one will reap the
benefits mentioned above. In the recurrent waves of passion or
restlessness, one will likewise learn to distinguish gradually
phases of "high" and "low," their "ups and downs," and may also
gain other helpful knowledge about their behavior. By that
procedure, one again remains entirely within the range of
Satipatthana by practicing the contemplation of the state of mind
(//cittanupassana//) and of mind-objects (dhammanupassana:
attention to the hindrances).
This method of transforming disturbances to meditation into objects
of meditation, as simple as it is ingenious, may be regarded as the
culmination of non-violent procedure. It is a device very
characteristic of the spirit of satipatthana, to make use of all
experiences as aids on the path. In that way enemies are turned
into friends; for all these disturbances and antagonistic forces
have become our teachers, and teachers, whoever they may be, should
be regarded as friends.
We cannot forego to quote here a passage from a noteworthy little
book, //The Little Locksmith// by Katherine Butler Hathaway, a
moving human document of fortitude and practical wisdom acquired by
suffering:
I am shocked by the ignorance and wastefulness with which
persons who should know better throw away the things they do
not like. They throw away experiences, people, marriages,
situations, all sorts of things because they do not like them.
If you throw away a thing, it is gone. Where you had something
you have nothing to work on. Whereas, almost all those things
which get thrown away are capable of being worked over by a
little magic into just the opposite of what they were... But
most human beings never remember at all that in almost every
bad situation there is the possibility of a transformation by
which the undesirable may be changed into the desirable.
We said before that the occurrence of the three disturbing elements
cannot always be prevented. They are parts of our world, and their
coming and going follows its own laws irrespective of our approval
or disapproval. But by applying bare attention we can avoid being
swept away or dislodged by them. By taking a firm and calm stand on
the secure ground of mindfulness, we shall repeat in a modest
degree, but in an essentially identical way, the historic situation
under the Bodhi Tree. When Mara, the Evil One, at the head of his
army, claimed the soil on which the future Buddha sat, the latter
refused to budge. Trusting in the power of mindfulness, we may
confidently repeat the Bodhisatta's aspiration on that occasion:
//Ma Mam thana acavi!// "May he (Mara) not dislodge me from this
place" (Padhana Sutta).
Let the intruders come and go. Like all the other members of that
vast unceasing procession of mental and physical events that passes
before our observant eyes in the practice of bare attention, they
arise, and having arisen, they pass away.
Our advantage here is the obvious fact that two thought moments
cannot be present at the same time. Attention refers, strictly
speaking, not to the present but to the moment that has just passed
away. Thus, as long as mindfulness holds sway, there will be no
"disturbance" or "defiled thought." This gives us the chance to
hold on to that secure ground of an "observer's post," our own
potential "throne of enlightenment."
By the quietening and neutralizing influence of detached
observation as applied in our three devices, the interruptions of
meditation will increasingly lose the sting of irritation, and
thereby their disturbing effect. This will prove to be an act of
true //viraga// (dispassion), which literally means "decoloring."
When these experiences are stripped of the emotional tinge that
excites towards lust, aversion, irritation and other defilements of
the mind, they will appear in their true nature as bare phenomena
(//suddha-dhamma//).
The non-violent procedure of bare attention endows the meditator
with the light but sure touch so essential for handling the
sensitive, evasive, and refractory nature of the mind. It also
enables him to deal smoothly with the various difficult situations
and obstacles met with in daily life. To illustrate the even
quality of energy required for attaining to the meditative
absorptions, //The Path of Purification (Visuddhimagga)// describes
a test which students of surgery in ancient days had to undergo as
a proof of their skill. A lotus leaf was placed in a bowl of water,
and the pupil had to make an incision through the length of the
leaf, without cutting it entirely or submerging it. He who applied
an excess of force either cut the leaf into two or pressed it into
the water, while the timid one did not even dare to scratch it. In
fact, something like the gentle but firm hand of the surgeon is
required in mental training, and this skilful, well-balanced touch
will be the natural outcome of the non-violent procedure in the
practice of bare attention.
* * *
3. STOPPING AND SLOWING DOWN
Keeping Still
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For a full and unobstructed unfoldment of the mind's capacities,
the influence of two complimentary forces is needed: //activating//
and //restraining//. That twofold need was recognized by the
Buddha, the great knower of mind. He advised that the faculties of
energy (//viry'indriya//) and of concentration (//samadh'indriya//)
should be kept equally strong and well balanced.[5] Furthermore, he
recommended three of the seven factors of enlightenment
(//bojjhanga//) as suitable for rousing the mind, and three for
calming it.[6] In both cases, among the spiritual faculties and the
enlightenment factors, it is mindfulness that not only watches over
their equilibrium, but also activates those that are sluggish and
restrains those that are too intense.
Mindfulness, though seemingly of a passive nature, is in fact an
activating force. It makes the mind alert, and alertness is
indispensable for all purposeful activity. In the present inquiry,
however, we shall examine how it makes for disentanglement and
detachment, and how it positively helps in the development of the
mental qualities required for the work of deliverance.
In practicing bare attention, we //keep still// at the mental and
spatial place of observation, amidst the loud demands of the inner
and outer world. Mindfulness possesses the strength of tranquility,
the capacity for deferring action and applying the brake, for
//stopping// rash interference and for suspending judgement while
pausing to observe facts and to reflect upon them wisely. It also
brings a wholesome //slowing down// in the impetuosity of thought,
speech and action. Keeping still and stopping, pausing and slowing
down--these will be our key words when speaking now of the
restraining effect of bare attention.
An ancient Chinese book states:
"In making things end, and in making things start,
there is nothing more glorious than //keeping still//."
In the light of the Buddha's teaching, the true "end of things" is
Nibbana which is called the "//stilling// of formations"
(//sankharanam vupasamo//), that is, their final end or cessation.
It is also called "the stopping" (//nirodha//). The "things" or
"formations" meant here are the conditioned and impersonal
phenomena rooted in craving and ignorance. The end of formations
comes to be by the end of "forming," that is, by the end of world-
creating kammic activities. It is the "end of the world" and of
suffering, which the Buddha proclaimed cannot be reached by
walking, migrating or transmigrating, but can be found within
ourselves. That end of the world is heralded by each deliberate act
of //keeping still, stopping//, or //pausing//. "Keeping still," in
that highest sense, means stopping the accumulation of kamma,
abstaining from our unceasing concern with evanescent things,
abstaining from perpetually adding to our entanglements in samsara-
-the round of repeated birth and death. By following the way of
mindfulness, by training ourselves to keep still and pause in the
attitude of bare attention, we refuse to take up the world's
persistent challenge to our dispositions for greed or hatred. We
protect ourselves against rash and delusive judgements; we refrain
from blindly plunging into the whirlpool of interfering action with
all its inherent dangers.
"He who abstains from interfering is everywhere secure"
(Sutta Nipata, v.953)
"He who keeps still and knows where to stop will not meet
danger"
(//Tao-Te-Ching//, Chapter 44)
The Chinese saying quoted earlier states in its second part that
there is nothing more glorious in //making things start// than in
keeping still. Explained in the Buddhist sense, these things
effectively started by keeping still are "the things (or qualities)
making for decrease of kammic accumulation." In dealing with them,
we may follow the traditional division of mental training into
morality (or conduct), concentration (or tranquility) and wisdom
(or insight). All three are decisively helped by the attitude of
//keeping still// cultivated by bare attention.
1. //Conduct//. How can we improve our conduct, its moral quality
and its skill in taking right decisions? If we earnestly desire
such an improvement, it will generally be wisest to choose the line
of least resistance. If we turn too quickly against those
shortcomings deeply rooted in old habits or in powerful impulses,
we might suffer discouraging defeat. We should pay attention first
to our blemishes of action and speech and our errors of judgement
caused by thoughtlessness and rashness. Of these there are many. In
our lives there are numerous instances where one short moment of
reflection might have prevented a false step, and thereby warded
off a long chain of misery or moral guilt that started with a
single moment of thoughtlessness. But how can we curb our rash
reactions, and replace them by moments of mindfulness and
reflection? To do so will depend on our capacity to //stop and
pause//, to apply brakes at the right time, and this we can learn
by practicing bare attention. In that practice we shall train
ourselves "to look and wait," to suspend reactions or slow them
down. We shall learn it first the easy way, in situations of our
own choice, within the limited field of experiences met with during
the periods of meditative practice. When facing again and again the
incidental sense impressions, feelings or stray thoughts which
interrupt our concentration; when curbing again and again our
desire to respond to them in some way; when succeeding again and
again in keeping still in face of them--we shall be preparing
ourselves to preserve that inner stillness in the wider and
unprotected field of everyday life. We shall have acquired a
presence of mind that will enable us to pause and stop, even if we
are taken by surprise or are suddenly provoked or tempted.
Our present remarks refer to those blemishes of conduct liable to
arise through thoughtlessness and rashness, but which may be more
or less easily checked through mindfulness. Dexterity in dealing
with these will also affect those more obstinate deviations from
moral conduct rooted in strong passionate impulses or in deeply
ingrained bad habits. The increased tranquility of mind achieved in
keeping still for bare attention will restrain the impetuosity of
passions. The acquired habit of pausing and stopping will act as a
brake to the ingrained habits of indulging in unwholesome deeds.
By being able to keep still for bare attention, or to pause for
wise reflection, very often the first temptation to lust, the first
wave of anger, the first mist of delusion, will disappear without
causing serious entanglement. At which point the current of
unwholesome thought process is stopped will depend on the quality
of mindfulness. If mindfulness is keen, it will succeed at a very
early point in calling a stop to a series of defiled thoughts or
actions before we are carried along by them too far. Then the
respective defilements will not grow beyond their initial strength,
less effort will be required to check them, and fewer kammic
entanglements, or none, will follow.
Let us take the example of a pleasant visual object which has
aroused our liking. At first that liking might not be very active
and insistent. If at this point the mind is already able to keep
still for detached observation or reflection, the visual perception
can easily be divested of its still very slight admixture of lust.
The object becomes registered as "just something seen that has
caused a pleasant feeling," or the attraction felt is sublimated
into a quiet aesthetic pleasure. But if that earliest chance has
been missed, the liking will grow into attachment and into the
desire to possess. If now a stop is called, the thought of desire
may gradually lose its strength; it will not easily turn into an
insistent craving, and no actual attempts to get possession of the
desired object will follow. But if the current of lust is still
unchecked, then the thought of desire may express itself by speech
in asking for the object or even demanding it with impetuous words.
That is, unwholesome mental kamma is followed by unwholesome verbal
kamma. A refusal will cause the original current of lust to branch
out into additional streams of mental defilements, either sadness
or anger. But if even at that late stage one can stop for quiet
reflection or bare attention, accept the refusal, and renounce
wish-fulfilment, further complications will be avoided. However, if
clamoring words are followed by unwholesome bodily kamma, and if,
driven by craving, one tries to get possession of the desired
object by stealth or force, then the kammic entanglement is
complete and its consequences must be experienced in their full
impact. But still, if even after the completion of the evil act,
one stops for reflection, it will not be in vain. For the
mindfulness that arises in the form of remorseful retrospection
will preclude a hardening of character and may prevent a repetition
of the same action.
The Exalted One once said to his son, Rahula (Majjhima 61):
"Whatever action you //intend// to perform, by body, speech or
mind, you should consider that action... If, in considering it, you
realize: 'This action which I intend to perform will be harmful to
myself, or harmful to others or harmful to both; it will be an
unwholesome action, producing suffering, resulting in suffering'--
then you should certainly not perform that action.
"Also //while// you are performing an action, by body, speech or
mind, you should consider that action... If, in considering it, you
realize: 'This action which I am performing is harmful to myself,
or harmful to others or harmful to both; it is an unwholesome
action, producing suffering, resulting in suffering'--then you
should desist from such an action.
"Also //after// you have performed an action, by body, speech or
mind, you should consider that action... If, in considering it,
you realize: 'This action which I have performed has been
harmful to myself, or harmful to others, or harmful to both; it
was an unwholesome action, producing suffering, resulting in
suffering-- then you should in the future refrain from it."
2. //Tranquility//. We shall now consider how stopping for bare
attention also helps one to attain and strengthen tranquility
(//samatha//) in its double sense: general peace of mind and
meditative concentration.
By developing the habit of pausing for bare attention, it becomes
increasingly easier to withdraw into one's own inner stillness when
unable to escape bodily from the loud, insistent noises of the
outer world. It will be easier to forego useless reactions to the
foolish speech or deeds of others. When the blows of fate are
particularly hard and incessant, a mind trained in bare attention
will find a refuge in the haven of apparent passivity or watchful
non-action, from which position it will be able to wait patiently
until the storms have passed. There are situations in life when it
is best to allow things to come to their natural end. He who is
able to keep still and wait will often succeed where aggressiveness
or busy activity would have been vanquished. Not only in critical
situations, but also in the normal course of life, the experience
won by observant keeping still will convince us that we need not
actively respond to every impression we receive, or regard every
encounter with people or things as a challenge to our interfering
activity.
By refraining from busying ourselves unnecessarily, external
frictions will be reduced and the internal tensions they bring will
loosen up. Greater harmony and peace will pervade the life of every
day, bridging the gap between normal life and the tranquility of
meditation. Then there will be fewer of those disturbing inner
reverberations of everyday restlessness which, in a coarse or
subtle form, invade the hours of meditation, producing bodily and
mental unrest. Consequently, the hindrance of agitation, a chief
obstacle to concentration, will appear less often and will be
easier to overcome when it arises.
By cultivating the attitude of bare attention as often as
opportunity offers, the centrifugal forces of mind, making for
mental distraction, will peter out; the centripetal tendency,
turning the mind inward and making for concentration, will gather
strength. Craving will no longer run out in pursuit of a variety of
changing objects.
Regular practice of sustained attention to a continuous series of
events prepares the mind for sustained concentration on a
//single// object, or a limited number of objects, in the strict
practice of meditation. Firmness or steadiness of mind, another
important factor in concentration, will likewise be cultivated.
Thus, the practice of keeping still, pausing and stopping for bare
attention, fosters several salient components of meditative
tranquility: calmness, concentration, firmness, and reduction of
the multiplicity of objects. It raises the average level of normal
consciousness and brings it closer to the level of the meditative
mind. This is an important point because often too wide a gap
between these two mental levels repeatedly frustrates attempts at
mental concentration and hinders the achievement of smooth
continuity in meditative practice.
In the sequence of the seven factors of enlightenment, we find that
the enlightenment factor of tranquility (//passaddhi
sambojjhanga//) precedes that of concentration (//samadhi-
sambojjhanga//). Expressing the same fact, the Buddha says: "If
tranquilized within, the mind will become concentrated." Now in the
light of our previous remarks, we shall better understand these
statements.
3. //Insight//. It has been said by the Exalted One: "He whose mind
is concentrated sees things as they really are." Therefore, all
those ways by which bare attention strengthens concentration also
provide a supporting condition for the development of insight. But
there is also a more direct and specific help which insight
receives from keeping still in bare attention.
Generally, we are more concerned with handling and using things
than with knowing them in their true nature. Thus we usually grasp
in haste the very first few signals conveyed to us by a perception.
Then, through deeply ingrained habit, those signals evoke a
standard response by way of judgements such as good-bad, pleasant-
unpleasant, useful-harmful, right-wrong. These judgements, by which
we define the objects in relation to ourselves, lead to
corresponding reactions by word or deed. Only rarely does attention
dwell upon a common or familiar object for any longer time than is
needed to receive the first few signals. So, for the most part, we
perceive things in a fragmentary manner and thence misconceive
them. Further, only the very first phase of the object's life-span,
or a little more, comes into the focus of our attention. One may
not even be consciously aware that the object is a process with an
extension in time--a beginning and an end; that it has many aspects
and relations beyond those casually perceived in a limited
situation; that, in brief, it has a kind of evanescent
individuality of its own. A world perceived in this superficial way
will consist of shapeless little lumps of experiences marked by a
few subjectively selected signs or symbols. The symbols chosen are
determined mainly by the individual's self-interest; sometimes they
are even misapplied. The shadow-like world that results includes
not only the outer environment and other persons, but also a good
part of one's own bodily and mental processes. These, too become
subjected to the same superficial manner of conceptualization. The
Buddha points out four basic misconceptions that result from
distorted perceptions and unmethodical attention: taking the impure
for pure, the impermanent for lasting, the painful and pain-
bringing for pleasant, and the impersonal for a self or something
belonging to the self. When the seal of self-reference is thus
stamped again and again upon the world of everyday experience, the
basic misconception, "This belongs to me" (//attaniya//) will
steadily put forth roots into all the bodily and mental factors of
our being. Like the hair-roots of a plant, these will be fine, but
firm and widespread--to such an extent, in fact, that the notions
of "I" and "mine" will hardly be shaken by mere intellectual
convictions about the non-existence of self (//anatta//).
These grave consequences issue from that fundamental perceptual
situation: our rush into hasty or habitual reactions after
receiving the first few signals from our perceptions. But if we
muster the restraining forces of mindfulness and pause for bare
attention, the material and mental processes that form the objects
of mind at the given moment will reveal themselves to us more fully
and more truly. No longer dragged at once into the whirlpool of
self-reference, allowed to unfold themselves before the watchful
eye of mindfulness, they will disclose the diversity of their
aspects and the wide net of their correlations and
interconnections. The connection with self-interest, so narrow and
often falsifying, will recede into the background, dwarfed by the
wider view now gained. The processes observed display in their
serial occurrence and in their component parts a constant birth and
death, a rise and a fall. Thereby the facts of change and
impermanence impress themselves on the mind with growing intensity.
The same discernment of rise and fall dissolves the false
conceptions of unity created under the influence of the egocentric
attitude. Self-reference uncritically overrides diversity; it lumps
things together under the preconceptions of //being// a self or
//belonging to a self//. But bare attention reveals these sham
unities as impersonal and conditioned phenomena. Facing thus again
and again the evanescent, dependent and impersonal nature of life-
processes with and without, we will discover their monotony and
unsatisfactory nature: in other words, the truth of suffering.
Thus, by the simple device of slowing down, pausing and keeping
still for bare attention, all three of the characteristics of
existence--impermanence, suffering, and non-self--will open
themselves to penetrative insight (//vipassana//).
Spontaneity
~~~~~~~~~~~
An acquired or strengthened habit of pausing mindfully before
acting does not exclude a wholesome spontaneity of response. On the
contrary, through training, the practice of pausing, stopping, and
keeping still for bare attention will itself become quite
spontaneous. It will grow into a selective mechanism of the mind
that, with an increasing reliability and swiftness of response, can
prevent the upsurge of evil or unwise impulses. Without such a
skill we may intellectually realise those impulses to be
unwholesome, but still succumb to them due to their own powerful
spontaneity. The practice of pausing mindfully serves, therefore,
to replace unwholesome spontaneity or habits by wholesome ones
grounded in our better knowledge and nobler intentions.
Just as certain reflex movements automatically protect the body,
similarly the mind needs spontaneous spiritual and moral self-
protection. The practice of bare attention will provide this vital
function. A person of average moral standards instinctively shrinks
from thoughts of theft or murder. With the help of the method of
bare attention, the range of such spontaneous moral brakes can be
vastly extended and ethical sensitivity greatly heightened.
In an untrained mind, noble tendencies and right thoughts are often
assailed by the sudden outbreak of passions and prejudices. They
either succumb or assert themselves only with difficulty after an
inner struggle. But if the spontaneity of the unwholesome is
checked or greatly reduced, as described above, our good impulses
and wise reflections will have greater scope to emerge and express
themselves freely and spontaneously. Their natural flow will give
us greater confidence in the power of the good within us; it will
also carry more conviction for others. That spontaneity of the good
will not be erratic, for it will have deep and firm roots in
previous methodical training. Here appears a way by which a
premeditated good thought (//sasankharika-kusala//) may be
transformed into a spontaneous good thought (//asankharika-kusala-
citta//). According to the psychology of the Abhidhamma, such a
thought, if combined with knowledge, takes the first place in the
scale of ethical values. In this way we shall achieve a practical
understanding of a saying in //The Secret of the Golden
Flower//:[7] "If one attains intentionally to an unintentional
state one has comprehension." This saying invites a paraphrase in
Pali terms: //Sasankharena asankharijam pattabbam//, "by
premeditated intentional effort spontaneity can be won."
If the numerous aids to mental growth and liberation found in the
Buddha's teaching are wisely utilized, there is actually nothing
that can finally withstand the Satipatthana method; and this method
starts with the simple practice of learning to pause and stop for
bare attention.
Slowing-down
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Against the impetuosity, rashness and heedlessness of the untrained
mind, the practice of pausing and stopping sets up a deliberate
slowing-down. The demands of modern life, however, make it
impracticable to introduce such a slow-down of function into the
routine of the average working day. But as an antidote against the
harmful consequences of the hectic speed of modern life, it is all
the more important to cultivate that practice in one's leisure
hours, especially in periods of strict Satipatthana practice. Such
practice will also bestow the worldly benefits of greater calm,
efficiency and skill in one's daily round of work.
For the purpose of meditative development, slowing-down serves as
an effective training in heedfulness, sense-control, and
concentration. But apart from that, it has a more specific
significance for meditative practice. In the commentary to the
Satipatthana Sutta, it is said that the slowing down of movements
may help in //regaining lost concentration// on a chosen object. A
monk, so we read, had bent his arm quickly without remembering his
subject of meditation as his rule of practice demanded. On becoming
aware of that omission he took his arm back to its previous
position and repeated the movement mindfully. The subject of
meditation referred to was probably "clearly comprehending action,"
as mentioned in the Satipatthana Sutta: "In bending and stretching
he acts with clear comprehension."
The slowing-down of certain bodily movements during strict
meditative training is particularly helpful in gaining //insight-
knowledge (//vipassana-nana//), especially the direct awareness of
change and non-self. To a great extent, it is the rapidity of
movement that strengthens the illusions of unity, identity, and
substantiality in what is actually a complex evanescent process.
Therefore, in the strict practice of Satipatthana, the slowing down
of such actions as walking, bending and stretching, so as to
discern the several phases of each movement, provides a powerful
aid for direct insight into the three characteristics of all
phenomena. The meditator's contemplation will gain increasing force
and significance if he notices clearly how each partial phase of
the process observed arises and ceases by itself, and nothing of it
goes over or "transmigrates" to the next phase.
Under the influence of pausing for bare attention, the average
rhythm of our everyday actions, speech and thoughts will also
become more quiet and peaceful. Slowing down the hurried rhythm of
life means that thoughts, feelings, and perceptions will be able to
complete the entire length of their natural lifetime. Full
awareness will extend up to their end phase: to their last
vibrations and reverberations. Too often that end phase is cut off
by an impatient grasping at new impressions, or by hurrying on to
the next stage of a line of thought before the earlier one has been
clearly comprehended. This is one of the main reasons for the
disorderly state of the average mind, which is burdened by a vast
amount of indistinct or fragmentary perceptions, stunted emotions
and undigested ideas. Slowing-down will prove an effective device
for recovering the fullness and clarity of consciousness. A fitting
simile, and at the same time an actual example, is the procedure
called for in the practice of mindfulness of breathing
(//anapanasati//): mindfulness has to cover the whole extent of the
breath, its beginning, middle and end. This is what is meant by the
passage in the sutta, "Experiencing the //whole// (breath-) body,
I shall breathe in and out." Similarly, the entire "breath" or
rhythm of our life will become deeper and fuller if, through
slowing-down, we get used to sustained attention.
The habit of prematurely cutting off processes of thought, or
slurring over them, has assumed serious proportions in the man of
modern urban civilization. Restlessly he clamors for ever new
stimuli in increasingly quicker succession just as he demands
increasing speed in his means of locomotion. This rapid bombardment
of impressions has gradually blunted his sensitivity, and thus he
always needs new stimuli, louder, coarser, and more variegated.
Such a process, if not checked, can end only in disaster. Already
we see at large a decline of finer aesthetic susceptibility and a
growing incapacity for genuine natural joy. The place of both is
taken by a hectic, short-breathed excitement incapable of giving
any true aesthetic or emotional satisfaction. "Shallow mental
breath" is to a great extent responsible for the growing
superficiality of "civilized man" and for the frightening spread of
nervous disorders in the West. It may well become the start of a
general deterioration of human consciousness in its qualitative
level, range and strength. This danger threatens all those, in the
East as well as in the West, who lack adequate spiritual protection
from the impact of technical civilization. Satipatthana can make an
important contribution to remedying this situation, in the way we
have briefly indicated here. Thus the method will prove beneficial
from the worldly point of view as well.
Here, however, we are chiefly concerned with the psychological
aspects of mindfulness and their significance for meditative
development. Sustained attention, helped by slowing-down, will
affect the quality of consciousness mainly in three ways: (a) in
intensifying consciousness; (b) in clarifying the object's
characteristic features; and (c) in revealing the object's
relatedness.
(a) An object of sustained attention will exert a particularly
//strong// and //long-lasting// impact on the mind. Its influence
will be felt not only throughout the thought-series immediately
following the particular perception, but may also extend far into
the future. It is that causal efficacy which is the measure of the
//intensity of consciousness//.
(b) sustained attention leads to a //fuller picture// of the object
in all its aspects. Generally, the first impression we gain of any
new sense-object or idea will be its most striking feature; it is
this aspect of the object which captures our attention up to the
culminating point of the impact. But the object also displays other
aspects or characteristics, and is capable of exercising other
functions, than those we initially notice. These may be less
obvious to us or subjectively less interesting; but still, they may
be even more important. There will also be cases where our first
impression is entirely deceptive. Only if we sustain our attention
beyond that first impact will the object reveal itself more fully.
In the downward course of the first perceptual wave the prejudicing
force of the first impact lessens; and it is only then, in that end
phase, that the object will yield a wider range of detail, a more
complete picture of itself. It is therefore only by sustained
attention that we can obtain a //clearer understanding of an
object's characteristic features//.
(c) Among the characteristic features of any object, physical or
mental, there is one class we often overlook due to hasty or
superficial attention, and therefore needs to be treated
separately. This is the //relatedness// of the object. The object's
relatedness extends back to its past--to its origin, causes,
reasons, and logical precedents; it also extends outward to embrace
the total context--its background, environment, and presently
active influences. We can never fully understand things if we view
them in artificial isolation. We have to see them as part of a
wider pattern, in their conditioned and conditioning nature; and
this can be done only with the help of sustained attention.
Subliminal Influences
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The three ways of heightening consciousness just discussed are
evidently of prime importance for the development of insight. When
consciousness is intensified, and its objective field clarified and
discerned in its relational structure, the ground is prepared for
"seeing things according to reality." But besides its obvious
direct influence, this threefold process also has an indirect
influence which is no less powerful and important: it strengthens
and sharpens the mind's subliminal faculties of subconscious
organization, memory and intuition. These again, on their part,
nourish and consolidate the progress of liberating insight. The
insight aided by them is like the mountain lake of the canonical
simile: it is fed not only by the outside rains, but also by
springs welling up from within its own depths. The insight
nourished by these "underground subliminal resources of the mind"
will have deep roots. The meditative results that it brings cannot
be lost easily, even with unliberated worldlings who are still
subject to relapse.
1. Perceptions or thoughts which have been objects of sustained
attention make a stronger impact on the mind and reveal their
characteristic features more distinctly than when attention is
slack. Thus, when they sink into the subconscious, they occupy
there a special position. This holds true for all three ways of
enhancing the consciousness of an object. (a) In a process of
consciousness, if attention is as strong in the end phase as in the
earlier phases, then when the process is finished and the mind
lapses back into subconsciousness, the latter will be more amenable
to conscious control. (b) If an impression or idea has been marked
by numerous distinct characteristics, then when it fades from
immediate awareness, it will not be so easily lost in the vague
contents of the subconscious or dragged by passionate biases into
false subconscious associations. (c) The correct comprehension of
the object's relatedness similarly will protect the experience from
being merged with indistinct subconscious material. Perceptions or
thoughts of enhanced intensity and clarity, absorbed into the
subconscious, remain more articulate and more accessible than
contents originating from hazy or "stunned" impressions. It will be
easier to convert them into full consciousness and they will be
less accountable in their hidden effects upon the mind. If, through
an improvement in the quality and range of mindfulness, the number
of such matured impressions increases, the results might be a
subtle change in the very structure of subconsciousness itself.
2. It will be evident from our earlier remarks that those
impressions which we have called "matured" or "more accessible and
convertible," lend themselves more easily and more correctly to
recollection--more easily because of their greater intensity, more
correctly because their clearly marked features protect them from
being distorted by false associative images or ideas. Remembering
them in their context and relatedness works both ways--it promotes
both easier and more correct recollection. Thus //sati// in its
meaning and function of mindfulness helps to strengthen //sati// in
its meaning and function of //memory//.
3. The influence of sustained attention on the subconscious and on
memory brings a deepening and strengthening of the faculty of
intuition, particularly the intuitive insight which chiefly
concerns us here. Intuition is not a gift from the unknown. Like
any other mental faculty, it arises out of specific conditions. In
this case the primary conditions are latent memories of perceptions
and thoughts stored in the subconscious. Obviously, the memories
providing the most fertile soil for the growth of intuition will be
those marked by greater intensity, clarity, and wealth of
distinctive marks; for it is these that are most accessible. Here,
too, the preserved relatedness of the impressions will contribute
much. Recollections of that type will have a more organic character
than memories of bare or vague isolated facts, and they will fall
more easily into new patterns of meaning and significance. These
more articulate memory images will be a strong stimulation and aid
for the intuitive faculty. Silently, in the hidden depths of the
subliminal mind, the work of collecting and organizing the
subconscious material of experience and knowledge goes on until it
is ripe to emerge as an //intuition//. The break-through of that
intuition is sometimes occasioned by quite ordinary happenings.
However, though seemingly ordinary, these events may have a strong
evocative power if previously they had been made objects of
sustained attention. Slowing-down and pausing for bare attention
will uncover the depth dimension of the simple things of everyday
life, and thus provide stimuli for the intuitive faculty. This
applies also to the intuitive penetration of the Four Noble Truths
that culminates in liberation (//arahatta//). The scriptures record
many instances of monks who could not arrive at intuitive
penetration when engaged in the actual practice of insight
meditation. The flash of intuition struck them on quite different
occasions: when stumbling against a rock or catching sight of a
forest fire, a mirage, or a lump of froth in a river. We meet here
another confirmation of that seemingly paradoxical saying that
"intentionally an unintentional state may be won." By deliberately
turning the full light of mindfulness on the smallest events and
actions of everyday life, eventually the liberating wisdom may
arise.
Sustained attention not only provides the nourishing soil for the
//growth// of intuition, it also makes possible the fuller
utilization and even repetition of the intuitive moment. Men of
inspiration in various fields of creative activity have often
deplored their common experience; the flash of intuition strikes so
suddenly and vanishes so quickly that frequently the slow response
of the mind hardly catches the last glimpse of it. But if the mind
has been trained in observant pausing, in slowing-down and
sustained attention, and if--as indicated above--the subconscious
has been influenced, then the intuitive moment too might gain that
fuller, slower, and stronger rhythm. This being the case, its
impact will be strong and clear enough to allow for full use of
that flash of intuitive insight. It might even be possible to lead
its fading vibrations upward again to a new culmination, similar to
the rhythmic repetition of a melody rising again in harmonious
development out of the last notes of its first appearance.
The full utilization of a single moment of intuitive insight could
be of decisive importance for one's progress toward full
realization. If one's mental grip is too weak and one lets those
elusive moments of intuitive insight slip away without having
utilized them fully for the work of liberation, then they might not
recur until many years have passed, or perhaps not at all during
the present life. Skill in sustained attention, however, will allow
one to make full use of such opportunities, and slowing-down and
pausing during meditative practice is an important aid in acquiring
that skill.
Through our treatment of pausing, stopping and slowing-down, one of
the traditional definitions of mindfulness found in the Pali
scriptures will have become more intelligible in its far-reaching
implications: that is, its function of //anapilapanata//, meaning
literally, "not floating (or slipping) away." "Like pumpkin-pots on
the surface of water," add the commentators, and they continue:
"Mindfulness enters deeply into its object, instead of hurrying
only over its surface." Therefore, "non-superficiality" will be an
appropriate rendering of the above Pali term, and a fitting
characterization of mindfulness.
* * *
4. DIRECTNESS OF VISION
//I wish I could disaccustom myself from everything,
so that I might see anew, hear anew, feel anew,
Habit spoils our philosophy//.
G.C. Lichtenberg (1742-1799)
In an earlier section we spoke about the impulsive spontaneity of
the unwholesome. We have seen how stopping for bare and sustained
attention is able to counter, or reduce, our rash impulsive
reactions, thus allowing us to face any situation with a fresh
mind, with a //directness of vision// unprejudiced by those first
spontaneous responses.
By //directness of vision// we understand a direct view of reality,
without any coloring or distorting lenses, without the intrusion
of emotional or habitual prejudices and intellectual biases. It
means: coming face to face with the bare facts of actuality, seeing
them as vividly and freshly as if we were seeing them for the first
time.
The Force of Habit
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Those spontaneous reactions which so often stand in the way of
direct vision do not derive only from our passionate impulses. Very
frequently they are the product of //habit//. In that form, they
generally have an even stronger and more tenacious hold on us--a
hold which may work out either for our good or for our harm. The
influence habit exercises for the //good// is seen in the "power of
repeated practice." This power protects our achievements and
skills--whether manual or mental, worldly or spiritual--against
loss or forgetfulness, and converts them from casual, short-lived,
imperfect acquisitions into the more secure possession of a quality
thoroughly mastered. The //detrimental// effect of habitual
spontaneous reactions is manifest in what is called in a derogative
sense the "force of habit": its deadening, stultifying and
narrowing influence productive of compulsive behavior of various
kinds. In our present context we shall be concerned only with that
negative aspect of habit as impeding and obscuring the directness
of vision.
As remarked earlier, habitual reactions generally have a stronger
influence upon our behavior than impulsive ones. Our passionate
impulses may disappear as suddenly as they have arisen. Though
their consequences may be very grave and extend far into the
future, their influence is in no way as long lasting and deep
reaching as that of habit. Habit spreads its vast and closely
meshed net over wide areas of our life and thought, trying to drag
in more and more. Our passionate impulses, too, might be caught in
that net and thus be transformed from passing outbursts into
lasting traits of character. A momentary impulse, an occasional
indulgence, a passing whim may by repetition become a habit we find
difficult to uproot, a desire hard to control, and finally an
automatic function we no longer question. Repeated gratification
turns a desire into a habit, and habit left unchecked grows into
compulsion.
It sometimes happens that, at an early time, we regard a particular
activity or mental attitude as without any special personal
importance. The activity or attitude may be morally indifferent and
inconsequential. At the start we might find it easy to abandon it
or even to exchange it for its opposite, since neither our emotions
nor reason bias us towards either alternative. But by repetition,
we come to regard the chosen course of action or thought as
"pleasant, desirable, and correct," even as "righteous"; and thus
we finally identify it with our character or personality.
Consequently, we feel any break in this routine to be unpleasant or
wrong. Any outside interference with it we greatly resent, even
regarding such interference as a threat to our "vital interests and
principles." In fact at all times primitive minds, whether
"civilized" or not, have looked at a stranger with his "strange
customs" as an enemy, and have felt his mere unagressive presence
as a challenge or threat.
At the beginning, when no great importance was ascribed to the
specific habit, the attachment that gradually formed was directed
not so much to the action proper as to the pleasure we derive from
the undisturbed routine. The strength of that attachment to routine
derives partly from the force of physical and mental inertia, so
powerful a motive in man. We shall presently refer to another cause
for attachment to routine. By force of habit, the particular
concern--whether a material object, an activity, or a way of
thinking--comes to be invested with such an increase of emotional
emphasis, that the attachment to quite unimportant or banal things
may become as tenacious as that to our more fundamental needs. Thus
the lack of conscious control can turn even the smallest habits
into the uncontested masters of our lives. It bestows upon them the
dangerous power to limit and rigidify our character and to narrow
our freedom of movement--environmental, intellectual and spiritual.
Through our subservience to habit, we forge new fetters for
ourselves and make ourselves vulnerable to new attachments,
aversions, prejudices and predilections; that is, to new suffering.
The danger for spiritual development posed by the dominating
influence of habit is perhaps more serious today than ever before;
for the expansion of habit is particularly noticeable in our
present age when specialization and standardization reach into so
many varied spheres of life and thought.
Therefore, when considering the Satipatthana Sutta's words on the
formation of fetters, we should also think of the important part
played by habit:
"...and what fetter arises dependent on both (i.e. the sense
organs and sense objects), that he knows well. In what manner
the arising of the unarisen fetter comes to be, that he knows well."
In Buddhist terms, it is preeminently the hindrance of sloth and
torpor (//thina-middha nivarana//) which is strengthened by the
force of habit, and it is the mental faculties such as agility and
pliancy of mind (//kaya// and //citta-lahuta//, etc.)[8] that are
weakened.
This tendency of habits to extend their range is anchored in the
very nature of consciousness. It stems not only from the
aforementioned passive force of inertia, but in many cases from an
active will to dominate and conquer. Certain active types of
consciousness, possessing a fair degree of intensity, tend to
repeat themselves. Each one struggles to gain ascendancy, to become
a centre around which other weaker mental and physical states
revolve, adapting themselves to and serving that central
disposition. This tendency is never quite undisputed, but still it
prevails, and even peripheral or subordinate types of consciousness
exhibit the same urge for ascendancy. This is a striking parallel
to the self-assertion and domineering tendency of an egocentric
individual in his contact with society. Among biological analogies,
we may mention the tendency toward expansion shown by cancer and
other pathological growths; the tendency toward repetition we meet
in the freak mutations which loom as a grave danger at the horizon
of our atomic age.
Due to that will to dominate inherent in many types of
consciousness, a passing whim may grow into a relatively constant
trait of character. If still not satisfied with its position, it
may break away entirely from the present combination of life forces
until finally, in the process of rebirths, it becomes the very
centre of a new personality. There are within us countless seeds
for new lives, for innumerable potential "beings," all of whom we
should vow to liberate from the wheel of samsara, as the Sixth Zen
Patriarch expressed it.[9]
Detrimental physical or mental habits may grow strong, not only if
fostered deliberately, but also if left unnoticed or unopposed.
Much of what has now strong roots in our nature has grown from
minute seeds planted in a long-forgotten past (see the Simile of
the Creeper, Majjhima 45). This growth of morally bad or otherwise
detrimental habits can be effectively checked by gradually
developing another habit: that of attending to them mindfully. If
we now do deliberately what had become a mechanical performance,
and if prior to doing it we pause a while for bare attention and
reflection--this will give us a chance to scrutinize the habit and
clearly comprehend its purpose and suitability (//satthaka// and
//sappaya-sampajanna//). It will allow us to make a fresh
assessment of the situation, to see it directly, unobscured by the
mental haze that surrounds a habitual activity with the false
assurance: "It is right because it was done before." Even if a
detrimental habit cannot be broken quickly, the reflective pause
will counter its unquestioned spontaneity of occurrence. It will
stamp it with the seal of repeated scrutiny and resistance, so that
on its recurrence it will be weaker and will prove more amenable to
our attempts to change or abolish it.
It need hardly be mentioned that habit, which has been rightly
called "the wet-nurse of man," cannot and should not disappear from
our life. Let us only remember what a relief it is, particularly in
the crowded day and complex life of a city-dweller, to be able to
do a great number of things fairly mechanically with, as it were,
only "half-powered attention." Habit brings considerable
simplification to our life. It would be an unbearable strain if all
our little humdrum activities had to be done with deliberate effort
and close attention. In fact, many operations of manual labor,
much of the //technique// in art, and even standard procedure in
complex intellectual work, generally bring better and more even
results through skilled routine performance. Yet that evenness of
habitual performance will also reach its end point. Unless
enlivened by the creation of new interest, it will show symptoms of
fatigue and start to decline.
Of course it would be absurd to advocate that all our little habits
be abolished, for many are innocuous and even useful. But we should
regularly ask ourselves whether we still have control over them,
whether we can give them up or alter them at will. We can answer
this question for ourselves in two ways: by attending to our
habitual actions mindfully for a certain period of time, and
second, by actually giving them up temporarily in cases where this
will not have any harmful or disturbing effects upon ourselves or
others. If we turn on them the light of //direct vision//, looking
at them or performing them as if for the first time, these little
routine activities, and the habitual sights around us, will assume
a new glow of interest and stimulation. This also holds good for
our professional occupation and its environment, and for our close
human relationships if they should have become stale by habit. The
relationship to one's marriage partner, to friends, to colleagues,
may thus receive a great rejuvenation. A fresh and direct vision
will also reveal that one can relate to people or do things in a
different and more beneficial way than one did before by force of
habit.
An acquired capacity to give up minor habits will prove its worth
in the fight against more dangerous proclivities. It will also come
to our aid at times when we are faced with serious changes in our
life which forcefully deprive us of fundamental habits. Loosening
the hardened soil of our routine behavior and thoughts will have
an enlivening effect on our vital energy, our mental vigor, and
our power of imagination. But what is most important, into that
loosened soil we shall be able to plant the seeds of vigorous
spiritual progress.
Associative Thought
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mental Habituation to standard reactions, to sequences of activity,
to judgements of people or things proceeds by way of associative
thinking. From the objects, ideas, situations and people that we
encounter, we select certain distinctive marks, and associate these
marks with our own response to them. If these encounters recur,
they are associated first with those marks selected earlier, and
then with our original or strongest response. Thus these marks
become a signal for releasing a standard reaction, which may
consist of a long sequence of connected acts or thoughts familiar
through repeated practice or experience. This way of functioning
makes it unnecessary for us to apply new effort and painstaking
scrutiny to each single step in such a sequence. The result is a
great simplification of life, permitting us to release energy for
other tasks. In fact, in the evolution of the human mind,
associative thinking was a progressive step of decisive importance.
It enabled us to learn from experience, and thus led up to the
discovery and application of causal laws.
Yet along with these benefits, associative thinking can also bring
many grave dangers if it is applied faultily or thoughtlessly and
not carefully controlled. Let us draw up a partial list of these
danger points:
1. Associative thinking, recurring again and again in similar
situations, may easily perpetuate and strengthen faulty or
incomplete initial observations, errors of judgement, and emotional
prejudices such as love, hate and pride.
2. Incomplete observations and restricted viewpoints in judgement,
sufficient to deal with one particular situation, may prove quite
inadequate and entail grave consequences if mechanically applied to
changed circumstances.
3. Due to misdirected associative thinking, a strong instinctive
dislike may be felt for things, places or persons which in some way
are merely reminiscent of unpleasant experiences, but actually have
no connection with them.
These briefly-stated instances show how vital it is for us to
scrutinize from time to time the mental grooves of our associative
thoughts, and to review the various habits and stereotype reactions
deriving from them. In other words, we must step out of our ruts,
regain a direct vision of things, and make a fresh appraisal of our
habits in the light of that vision.
If we look once again over the list of potential dangers deriving
from uncontrolled associative thinking, we shall better understand
the Buddha's insistence upon getting to the bedrock of experience.
In the profound and terse stanzas called "The Cave," included in
the //Sutta Nipata//, the Buddha says that the "full penetration of
//sense impression (phassa)// will make one free from greed" and
that "by understanding //perception (sanna)//, one will be able to
cross the flood of samsara" (stanza 778 f.).[10] By placing
mindfulness as a guard at the very first gate through which
thoughts enter the mind, we shall be able to control the incomers
much more easily, and shut out unwanted intruders. Thus the purity
of "luminous consciousness" can be maintained against "adventitious
defilements" (Anguttara, 1:51).
The Satipatthana Sutta provides a systematic training for inducing
direct, fresh, and undistorted vision. The training covers the
entire personality in its physical and mental aspects, and includes
the whole world of experience. The methodical application of the
several exercises to oneself (//ajjhatta//), to others
(//bahiddha//), and alternatingly to both, will help uncover
erroneous conceptions due to misdirected associative thinking and
misapplied analogies.
The principal types of false associative thinking are covered, in
the terminology of the Dhamma, by the four kinds of
//misapprehension// or //perverted views (vipallasa)//, which
wrongly take (1) what is impermanent for permanent, (2) what is
painful, or conducive to pain, for happiness, (3) what has no self
and is unsubstantial for a self or an abiding substance, and (4)
what is impure for beautiful. These perverted views arise through
a false apprehension of the characteristic marks of things. Under
the influence of our passions and false theories, we perceive
things selectively in a one-sided or erroneous way, and then
associate them wrongly with other ideas. By applying bare attention
to our perceptions and impressions, gradually we can free them from
these misapprehensions, progressing steadily towards the //direct
vision// of things as they really are.
The Sense of Urgency
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One who has clear and direct vision, stirred to a sense of urgency
(//samvega//) by things which are deeply moving, will experience a
release of energy and courage enabling him to break through his
timid hesitations and his rigid routine of life and thought. If
that sense of urgency is kept alive, it will bestow the earnestness
and persistence required for the work of liberation.
Thus said the teachers of old:
"This very world here is our field of action.
It harbors the unfoldment of the holy path,
And many things to break complacency,
Be stirred by things which may well move the heart,
And being stirred, strive wisely and fight on!"
Our closest surroundings are full of stirring things. If we
generally do not perceive them as such, that is because habit has
made our vision dull and our heart insensitive. The same thing
happens to us even with the Buddha's teaching. When we first
encounter the teaching, we receive a powerful intellectual and
emotional stimulation; but gradually the impetus tends to lose its
original freshness and impelling force. The remedy is to constantly
renew it by turning to the fullness of life around us, which
illustrates the Four Noble Truths in ever new variations. A direct
vision will impart new lifeblood even to the most common
experiences of every day, so that their true nature appears through
the dim haze of habit and speaks to us with a fresh voice. It may
well be just the long accustomed sight of the beggar at the street
corner, or a weeping child, or the illness of a friend, which
startles us afresh, makes us think, and stirs our sense of urgency
in treading resolutely the path that leads to the cessation of
suffering.
We know the beautiful account of how Prince Siddhatta first came
face to face with old age, illness and death while driving his
chariot through the royal city after a long period of isolation in
a make-believe world. This ancient story may well be historical
fact, for we know that in the lives of many great men common events
often gain a symbolic significance and lead to major consequences
far beyond their ordinary appearance. Great minds find significance
in the seemingly commonplace and invest the fleeting moment with
far-reaching efficacy. But, without contesting the inner truth of
that old story, we may reasonably believe that the young prince had
actually seen before, with his fleshly eyes, old people, sick
people, and those who had succumbed to death. However, on all these
earlier occasions, he would not have been touched very deeply by
these sights--as is the case with most of us most of the time. That
earlier lack of sensitivity may have been due to the carefully
protected, artificial seclusion of his petty, though princely,
happiness, the hereditary routine of his life into which his father
had placed him. Only when he broke through the golden cage of easy-
going habits could the facts of suffering strike him as forcibly as
if he had seen them for the first time. Then only was he stirred by
them to a sense of urgency that led him out of the home life and
set his feet firmly on the road to enlightenment.
The more //clearly// and //deeply// our minds and hearts respond to
the truth of suffering manifest in the very common facts of our
existence, the less often shall we need a repetition of the lesson
and the shorter will be our migration through samsara. The clarity
of perception evoking our response will come from an undeflected
directness of vision, bestowed by bare attention (//sati//); and
the //depth// of experience will come from wise reflection or clear
comprehension (//sampajanna//).
The Road to Insight
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Directness of vision is also a chief characteristic of the
methodical practice of insight meditation. There it is identified
with the direct or experiential knowledge bestowed by meditation,
as distinguished from the inferential knowledge obtained by study
and reflection. In the meditative development of insight, one's own
physical and mental processes are directly viewed, without the
interference of abstract concepts or the filtering screens of
emotional evaluation. For in this context these only obscure or
camouflage the naked facts, detracting from the strong immediate
impact of reality. Conceptual generalizations from experience are
very useful in their place; but if they interrupt the meditative
practice of bare attention, they tend to "shove aside" or dispose
of the particular fact, by saying, as it were: "It is nothing else
but this." Generalizing thought inclines to become impatient with
a recurrent type, and after having it classified, soon finds it
boring.
Bare attention, however, being the key instrument of methodological
insight, keeps to the particular. It follows keenly the rise and
fall of successive physical and mental processes. Though all
phenomena of a given series may be true to type (e.g., inhalations
and exhalations), bare attention regards each of them as distinct,
and conscientiously registers its separate birth and death. If
mindfulness remains alert, these repetitions of type will, by their
multiplication, exert not a reduced but an intensified impact on
the mind. The three characteristics--impermanence, suffering, and
voidness of self-inherent in the process observed, will stand out
more and more clearly. They will appear in the light shed by the
phenomena themselves, not in a //borrowed// light, not even a light
borrowed from the Buddha, the peerless and indispensable guide to
these experiences.
These physical and mental phenomena, in their "self-luminosity,"
will then convey a growing sense of urgency to the meditator:
revulsion, dissatisfaction, awareness of danger, followed by
detachment--though certainly joy, happiness, and calm, too, will
not be absent throughout the practice. Then, if all other
conditions of inner maturity are fulfilled, the first direct vision
of final liberation will dawn with the stream-winner's
(//sotapanna//) indubitable knowledge: "Whatever has the nature of
arising, has the nature of vanishing."
Thus, in the unfoldment of the power of mindfulness, Satipatthana
will prove itself as the true embodiment of the Dhamma, of which it
was said:
"Well-proclaimed is the Dhamma by the Blessed One,
visible here and now, not delayed, inviting inspection,
onward-leading, to be directly experienced by the wise."
* * * * * * * *
NOTES
[1] See Nyanaponika Thera, //The Heart of Buddhist Meditation// (London;
Rider & Co., 1962).
[2] Comy. to Sutta Nipata v. 334.
[3] Anagarika B. Govinda, //The Psychological Attitude of Early Buddhist
Philosophy (London: Rider & Co., 1961).
[4] //The Way of Mindfulness//, Bhikku Soma (Kandy: Buddhist Publication
Society, 1975), p. 83.
[5] See //Path of Purification//, p. 135 f.
[6] //Ibid//, pp. 136 ff. The three rousing factors are investigation,
energy and rapture; the three calming ones, tranquility,
concentration and equanimity.
[7] A treatise of Chines Taoism, strongly influenced by Mahayana.
[8] About these important qualitative constituents of good, wholesome
(//kusala//) consciousness, see the author's //Abhidhamma Studies//
(Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society, 1965), pp. 51 f.
[9] This may be a somewhat ironical reference by that great sage to the
fact that the well-known Mayayanic Bodhisattva vow of liberating all
beings of the universe is often taken much too light-heartedly by
many of his fellow Mahayanists.
[10] Compare also the passage on the significance of sense impression
(or contact) in the concluding section of the Brahmajala Sutta
(Digha 1).
* * * * * * * *
For further reading on
SATIPATTHANA MEDITATION
//The Way of Mindfulness//. The Satipatthana Sutta and Commentary.
tr. with introduction by Soma Thera. 5th edition (Kandy: Buddhist
Publication Society)
//The Foundations of Mindfulness//. (Satipatthana Sutta) tr. with
introduction and notes by Nyanasatta Thera. WHEEL No. 19
//The Satipatthana Sutta and its Application to Modern Life//. V.F.
Gunaratna. WHEEL No. 60
//"Protection through Satipatthana."// Nyanaponika Thera. BODHI
LEAVES No. B 34
//The Progress of Insight// through the Stages of Purification.
Mahasi Sayadaw. (Kandy: Buddhist Publication Society)
//Practical Insight Meditation//, Basic and Progressive Stages.
Mahasi Sayadaw. (Kandy: Buddhist Publication Society)
//The Heart of Buddhist Meditation//. A Handbook of Mental Training
based on the Buddha's Way of Mindfulness. Nyanaponika Thera.
(London: Rider & Co.) (Also available in France, Germany, Italy and
Spain in their respective languages.)
* * * * * * * *
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of all creeds. Founded in 1958, the BPS has published a wide
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