Wisdom Wide and Deep

by Shaila Catherine

  Factor 1: Vitakka—Directing the Attention to the Breath

  Vitakka—the initial application of attention—describes the mind’s capacity to aim, direct, and apply attention to any object that it perceives. This is an essential factor for negotiating the world. Inundated with a daily barrage of sensory stimuli, you naturally direct your attention to certain perceptions while screening out other information that is irrelevant to your aim. Without this ability to direct attention, you might become distraught by the demands of daily encounters.

  A resolve to return to the breath any time the focus wanders off and fades will strengthen the directed awareness of the breath. Basic counting exercises introduced in earlier chapters support the repeated directing of attention to the meditation object. The Visuddhimagga describes this invigorating initial application of the mind as having the function “to strike at and thresh” its object.75 Such an energized application of attention connects directly with the meditation object and allows no space for the sort of dull withdrawal that feeds sloth and torpor. Vitakka, in this way, counters the hindrance of sloth and torpor.

  Factor 2: Vicāra—Sustaining Attention on the Breath

  Vicāra is the sustaining function that accompanies the initial application of the mind. It anchors attention in the present moment. Vicāra is the factor that yokes the mind to the object and escorts consciousness into a penetrating experience of what is perceived. According to the Visuddhimagga, “[vicāra] has the characteristic of continued pressure on (occupation with) the object. Its function is to keep conascent [mental] states [occupied] with that. It manifests as keeping consciousness anchored [on that object].”76 The thorough and confident knowledge of the object that is supported by the sustained focus of vicāra dispels the hindrance of doubt.

  The meditative exercises introduced thus far are formulated to support a continuity of attention through the full length of the whole breath—without drifting away. The “applying” and “sustaining” functions work together to focus attention on the breath. The Buddhist tradition offers several similes to illustrate this teamwork.77 The initial arousing of the mind toward its object of perception (vitakka) is likened to a bird spreading out its wings when about to soar into the air and forcing its wings downward to cause it to lift into the sky. Continuous attention on the object (vicāra) is compared to that bird catching the draft by planing its outspread wings against the currents, quietly but firmly maintaining constant pressure against the wind. Just as the bird must both periodically flap its wings and also maintain firm pressure in order to keep hold of the air and soar, likewise, the meditator must refresh interest to maintain a continuous observation of the object. That initial application of the mind is also compared to the movement of a bee diving directly toward a lotus; while the sustaining function is associated with the bee’s hovering above the lotus and investigating the flower. Applied attention (vitakka) is further described as “gross and inceptive like the striking of a bell”; whereas the more subtle act of anchoring and maintaining pressure on the object (vicāra) resembles the resounding of the bell.78 Whatever the analogy, directing and sustaining attention on the breath comprise two critical functions that are consciously and intentionally cultivated. Engaging these two forces occupies much of the initial effort to establish jhāna.

  Factor 3: Pīti—Joyous Interest in the Breath

  Pīti is a quality of distinctly joyous and rapturous interest in your meditation object. It can manifest in several forms: (1) as a feeling of shivers or goose bumps on the skin, (2) as a feeling like lightning streaking through the body, (3) as a surging wavelike sensation, (4) as an uplifting, buoyant experience reminiscent of floating, or (5) as an all-pervading rapture that suffuses consciousness. It is only this fifth degree of pīti, that of pervasive rapture, which is stable enough to support jhāna.79 The lesser qualities of pīti can flood the entire body and mind with joyous thrills, but these relatively coarse manifestations of rapture are unsuitable for the deeply tranquil states of jhāna. The manifestation of pīti that functions as a jhāna factor and intensifies concentration must arise as a consequence of the exclusive perception of the meditation object. It is a form of nonsensuous delight that arises through the direct knowing of the object of meditation.

  Pīti has the characteristic of being pleased with the object of meditation. This intensity of interest in the meditation object serves to overcome the hindrance of aversion. It functions to refresh the body and mind, but it can also intensify to excessive manifestations of elation or excitement. You may be thrilled that something is finally happening, find the energized appearance of rapture pleasant, or consider it quite irritating. Let pīti arise and suffuse the knowing of the breath, but don’t allow it to divert your attention from the breath. Observing pīti tends to amplify its more caustic attributes and cause it to manifest as an agitating field of vibration in the body. Whether you like it or hate it, this energized delight must settle in order to perform the function of refreshing consciousness and effectively enabling jhāna. Restrain any direct fascination with pīti itself and do not let it distract you from the continuous observation of the breath. Trust that pīti, along with the other jhāna factors, will all mature in the process; you don’t need to fuss over them.

  Factor 4: Sukha—Deep Contentment Regarding the Breath as Object

  Sukha is a feeling of deep contentment, joy, peace, or ease that occurs as a consequence of the simple observation of the meditation object. It drenches the mind in happiness. Attention to the breath will remain undisturbed and undistracted when the tenor of experience is deep joy. You may feel like you could sit forever and never want to leave this joyfilled state of ease. There will be no wish to hurry toward the next project or experience. The arising of this vast expression of happiness thus counters the hindrance of restlessness. With the arising of sukha, consciousness will settle even more deeply with the meditation object—the mind is happy to attend to nothing but the breath.

  Factor 5: Ekaggatā—One-Pointedness of Attention on the Breath

  Ekaggatā is recognized in the classic commentaries as the leader of all wholesome phenomena. It functions to unite and bind the associated mental factors, much like moisture permits the particles of bath powder to form a soap bar, or rennet enables the particles of milk to form a cheese. This one-pointedness of attention that completely unifies the mind with the meditation object transforms the hindrance of desire. A mind infected by sensual desire moves through life by clinging to serial possessions, opinions, pleasures, relationships, and experiences, as a monkey travels through the forest by grasping one branch after another. When perpetually reaching for the next potential source of gratification, the heart lacks inner peace. As an antidote to the compulsive dissatisfaction of desire, one-pointed attention is unified; it is settled on just what is present, and it needs nothing more. When one-pointed attention blossoms as an intensifying factor, there will be no sense of lack. Consciousness will settle exclusively with the meditation object without wandering and without distraction. Like the steady illumination of a lamp’s flame when there is no breeze, a strongly unified focus manifests as a peaceful, nonwavering calm. When you can keep your attention focused this way, the scattering tendencies of habit dissipate and your attention unites with the meditation object.

  These five jhāna factors—vitakka, vicāra, pīti, sukha, and ekaggatā—will naturally develop into extraordinarily strong assets through the continuous practice of connecting with and sustaining attention on the breath. You don’t need to make a special effort to cultivate each factor individually. Resist the temptation to conjure up happiness, enhance rapture, or rev up these novel thrills. It is not necessary to be specifically aware of the strength of these jhāna factors at this stage of the practice. At this point in your meditation, investigation of the individual factors could disperse the unification of mind that you are carefully nurturing. Be satisfied with a consistent knowing of your meditation object, the breath, and trust that all five jh
āna factors will develop out of the simple effort to attend to that object.

  TABLE 4.1

  Five Jhāna Factors

  FACTOR DEFINITION FUNCTION HINDRANCES OVERCOME

  Vitakka Initial application of the mind To direct attention the object Sloth and torpor

  Vicāra Sustained attention To sustain attention on the object Doubt

  Pīti Rapture, delight, pleasure To refresh and invigorate consciousness Aversion

  Sukha Happiness, contentment To gratify and intensify associated states Restlessness

  Ekaggatā One-pointedness, concentration, collectedness To unify associated factors with the object; to eliminate distractions Sensual desire

  WHAT IS A NIMITTA?

  As you are engaged in the process of directing and sustaining your attention with the breath, at some point a bright light, luminous field, or subtle image associated with the breath might appear. This can be the beginning of a significant transformation in the meditative perception of the breath. With the arising of such a subtle or luminous perception, the coarse perception of breathing is becoming a refined mental sign of the breath. This phenomenon is called “the counterpart sign” or nimitta. The Buddhist tradition recognizes that a nimitta can appear in a variety of ways for different people. It may resemble the light touch of soft cotton, silk cloth, or a draft; it may appear as light, color, sparkling gems, geometric forms, blossoming flowers, a mist, a star, or a pearly illumination; it might be an impression of steadiness or stability which traditional commentaries compare to the firmness of a peg made of heartwood.80 Many meditators first perceive a motley field or smoky gray that gradually brightens into a stable, bright, whitish light, like the hue of cotton or wool. Students may describe it as a sparkling field that gradually becomes vividly luminous, or as a radiant gemstone that at first sparkles and then clarifies, or as a vibrational field that gradually becomes remarkably silky, smooth, and still, or as simply a light that gradually becomes clearer and brighter.

  This counterpart sign, the nimitta, is not based on imagination. It is, rather, a subtle meditative perception of the breath, and so it arises in the area where the breath enters and exits the body. The Visuddhimagga emphasizes that one must “look for the in-breaths and out-breaths nowhere else than the place normally touched by them.”81 Carefully avoid enchantment with sparkling images, lights, colors, and vibrations that might appear at other locations. Don’t be seduced by false nimittas. Your meditation subject remains only the breath, so allow the breath itself to gradually and authentically become transfigured into a mental reflection of breathing. Gently nurture the clarity of this sign by simply continuing to observe the breath with refined attention. Don’t wander off the location of the basic point of contact with the breath to search for a conceptual sign. Also, don’t get too excited or distracted by the subtle initial appearance of signs. Guard your meditation object with a continuity of attention toward the whole breath until the nimitta naturally becomes consistent and stable. Don’t try to fuss with it, demand that it grow brighter, or heave your attention upon it when it appears. If approached with exuberance, arrogance, or force, it will slip away, like a shy friend who is wary of strangers. If the brightness fluctuates with sparkles or appears like distant shimmering gems stones, don’t rush out to seize it with attention; simply continue to remain patiently aware of the whole breath. If the nimitta appears with color, shape, or texture, again, there is no need to improve or glorify it; it will naturally purify as concentration develops.

  If you try to grasp hold of the nimitta too soon, it can dissolve or proliferate into varying images and impressions. If, on the other hand, you force your attention back to the coarse sensations associated with physical breaths, the nimitta may disappear, like a friend who feels slighted and quietly leaves the party without saying goodbye. Nourish the breath nimitta delicately and diligently, with an attitude of devotion, appreciation, and trust. As the nimitta begins to appear consistently in the meditation and becomes increasingly compelling, it will effortlessly occupy your attention. It may seem as though consciousness is magnetically drawn into the nimitta, that the nimitta engulfs the mind, or that the breath, nimitta, and consciousness all merge as a unified focus on the subtle sign of breath.

  The production of the nimitta is a natural consequence of the concentrated mind. It has been likened to the smooth and yet stunning transformation of the night sky as the moon emerges from behind a cloud. Functioning like a biofeedback device, the nimitta provides informative clues regarding the quality of concentration. Although the eye is not involved, the nimitta usually appears as a luminous impression—luminosity is inherent in the attainment, and stronger concentration will create stronger light. Orient to this pure mental expression of the breath and subtle mental “seeing” as you gradually withdraw attention from the coarse material realm.

  When you maintain a consistently balanced observation of the breath, mental energies will eventually cohere with the meditation object. As this occurs, the nimitta will automatically become clear, vivid, robust, and stable, and when the mental faculties are mature, the nimitta will magnetically merge with the breath. Just as a good host offers guests whatever they need without disturbing their privacy, a skillful meditator will nourish the development of the nimitta with spacious, equanimous, and continuous ease, and without being intrusive or demanding.

  MEDITATION INSTRUCTION 4.1

  Seeing the Nimitta

  At the beginning of your sitting meditation resolve to remain continuously aware of the whole breath as it appears between the nostrils and upper lip area. Permit nothing to distract you from this deliberate observation. Allow the rhythm of breathing to flow unregulated. The physicality of the breath will gradually fall away as the breath naturally becomes more subtle by focusing upon it. Although the breath may seem to disappear, keep your attention focused on the place normally touched by it.82 If the mind is steady, but the breath feels coarse, you may draw your attention gently away from the skin, and center your observation upon the bare occurrence of the breath just slightly off the body. Try to observe the breath as the object directly, rather than inferring it through the mediation of tactile sensations such as temperature, pressure, or vibration. One of my teachers illustrated this transition from coarse physical perceptions to the subtle sign (nimitta) of the breath with a story of a carpentry project. Imagine that you wish to hammer a very small thin nail into a wall. At first you hold the fine nail between your fingers and strike at that area, using the physical sensations of your fingertips as a guide. But after the nail is partially tacked into the wall, you remove your fingers and just hammer at the nail itself. Similarly, you may at first feel the touch of the breath held, so to speak, between the nostrils and upper lip, but once attention consistently meets the breath itself, you won’t need to rely on that sensation of physical touch. Simply continue to direct the attention to the breath at that area, bringing mindfulness and equanimity to meet the breath in whatever way it now appears there.

  As you zero in on the breath at the location just off the body, between the nostrils and upper lip, the nimitta will grow increasingly compelling. Until the nimitta becomes stable, use your resolve to stay with the full breath. As you are observing the whole breath, if there is a hint of light or a glimmer of a field of illumination, be glad, but don’t interfere with it or fuss over it. Let it develop naturally. Check to be certain that this is an inseparable manifestation of the breath, not a distracting projection based on desire or imagination. It will intensify as you observe the whole breath and diminish when thoughts arise. Only after the nimitta is stable and bright will this mental sign of the breath replace the crude observation of the physical in-breaths and out-breaths.

  IS THE NIMITTA NECESSARY?

  Some approaches to jhāna do not teach the use of the nimitta; others maintain that jhāna is impossible without it. I reconcile the disagreement among various teachers by considering the inherent faults of perception. Just as multiple eye
witness accounts of an accident will vary, individuals also perceive internal states differently. Just as it is possible to be in contact with the seat of a chair and not feel the texture of the upholstery, or to be wearing sandals and not aware of the sensation of the shoes, or to stare out a window and not notice the trees, I believe that it is possible for a nimitta to arise and a meditator not to identify it as a significant occurrence.

  When I first began to explore jhāna practice I received no instruction in the use of the nimitta. The mind was ablaze with light, but I had not attributed any particular significance to this light, nor learned to distinguish the various kinds of brightness, lightness, and spaciousness that arise with deep concentration. Light arose quickly in every meditation and pervaded the awareness of breath; I assumed this was just how meditation with the breath appeared. Blinded by familiarity, I did not isolate it as a significant perception or use it as a tool during those early stages of my jhāna explorations. At one point during a long retreat a visiting teacher offered me a new angle for approaching jhāna—she inquired if I saw a bright white light. Assuming that she must mean some special sort of light, some different light, not what I had gradually but inseparably associated with each in-breath and out-breath, I reported “no” and that ended the conversation. But not long after this meeting my retreat was interrupted with worldly necessities and some weeks passed before I could return to the meditation practice and reestablish jhāna. Upon reentering retreat I recognized the dramatic presentation of the nimitta as a vivid yet familiar expression of concentration and transformation of the breath as a meditation object. Familiarity can make the most obvious things invisible if we do not know their significance. Until I learned to use the nimitta as a tool to facilitate absorption, it was merely a backdrop to the meditation.