In This Very Life

by Sayadaw U Pandita

  Practically speaking, if we begin to reflect upon the characteristics of the object—“Oh, what a gorgeous color”—we know the mind has wandered off. If, on the other hand, we activate precise and penetrative mindfulness and diligent effort at the moment of seeing that colored object, we have the chance to understand the seeing process for what it really is. This is the chance to develop wisdom. We can see the relationship of mind to matter, the conditionality that relates them, and the characteristics of impermanence, suffering, and absence of self they share.

  You might like to try an experiment right now. Direct your attention to the rise and fall of the abdomen. If the mind makes an effort to be precisely aware of these movements, actually to feel them from beginning to end, it will be freed of greed, hatred, and delusion. There are no thoughts of pleasurable objects, nor aversion to unpleasant objects, nor deluded confusion about what is going on.

  CRASH!

  Sound suddenly becomes predominant. At this moment, we leave behind the rising and falling movements. Even so, we do not consider that the mind has wandered if we are able to recognize immediately that this is a sound, and note it as “hearing, hearing,” without getting carried away by reflections about what caused the sound and so forth. There is no greed, no hatred or delusion in the mind.

  It is another matter if the mind is drawn away by a familiar tune, and we begin to remember the last time we heard it and what the singer’s name is. Even during a sitting some yogis wriggle and tap their fingers when they remember songs from the past. They certainly suffer from wandering mind.

  Once there was a yogi who was having a very interesting and powerful sitting. She was sitting nice and quiet when suddenly a neighboring yogi noisily got up from the cushion. She heard bones creak and clothing rustle. Immediately our yogi began to think, “Inconsiderate! How can he get up like that in the middle of the hour, when I’m trying to meditate!” She worked herself into quite a rage. That might be called “The Great Mind Wandering.” Most yogis, of course, work very conscientiously to avoid this state by being mindful of objects at the moment of occurrence, so as not to be caught by the wandering mind. This is exactly what the Venerable Kaccāyana said to do.

  Jhāna

  There are yet deeper aspects to this business of not wandering. The mind that is not wandering is the mind that is penetratively mindful of what is happening. The word “penetrative” is not used casually. It refers to a jhānic factor that must arise in the mind. Jhāna is usually translated as “absorption.” Actually, it refers to the quality of mind that is able to stick to an object and observe it.

  Imagine you find something in the mud and you want to pick it up. If you take a sharp instrument and stick it into that thing, it will penetrate the object so that you can lift it out of the mud. If you were uncertain what that object was, you can look at it closely now. The same goes for the food on your plate. The way your fork pierces a morsel illustrates this jhānic factor.

  Samatha Jhāna

  There are two types of jhāna, samatha jhāna and vipassanā jhāna. Some of you may have read about the samatha jhānas and wonder why I am talking about them in the context of vipassanā. Samatha jhāna is pure concentration, fixed awareness of a single object—a mental image, for example, such as a colored disk or a light. The mind is fixed on this object without wavering or moving elsewhere. Eventually the mind develops a very peaceful, tranquil, concentrated state and becomes absorbed in the object. Different levels of absorption are described in the texts, each level having specific qualities.

  Vipassanā Jhāna

  On the other hand, vipassanā jhāna allows the mind to move freely from object to object, staying focused on the characteristics of impermanence, suffering, and absence of self, which are common to all objects. Vipassanā jhāna also includes the mind that can stay focused and fixed upon the bliss of nibbāna. Rather than the tranquility and absorption that are the goal of samatha jhāna practitioners, the most important results of vipassanā jhāna are insight and wisdom.

  Vipassanā jhāna is the focusing of the mind on paramattha dhammas. Usually these are spoken of as “ultimate realities,” but actually they are just the things we can experience directly through the six sense doors without conceptualization. Most of them are sakhara paramattha dhamma, or conditioned ultimate realities: mental and physical phenomena that are changing all the time. Nibbāna is also a paramattha dhamma, but of course it is not conditioned.

  Breathing is a good example of a conditioned process. The sensations you feel at the abdomen are conditioned ultimate realities, sankhāra paramattha dhamma, caused by your intention to breathe. The whole purpose of concentrating one’s attention on the abdomen is to penetrate the actual quality and nature of what is happening there. When you are aware of movement, tension, tautness, heat, or cold, you have begun to develop vipassanā jhāna.

  Mindfulness at the respective sense doors follows the same principle. If there is diligent effort and penetrative awareness, focusing on what is happening in any particular sense process, the mind will understand the true nature of what is happening. The sensing processes will be understood in individual characteristics as well as common ones.

  According to the fourfold way of reckoning, which admits of four levels of jhāna, the first jhāna possesses five factors, which we will describe below. All of them are important in vipassanā practice.

  The Five Jhānic Factors

  The first of them is called vitakka. It is the factor of aiming, accurately directing the mind toward an object. It also has the aspect of establishing the mind on the object, so that the mind stays there.

  The second factor is vicāra (pronounced “vichara”), generally translated as “investigation” or “reflection.” After vitakka has brought the mind to the object and placed it firmly there, vicāra continues to rub the mind onto the object. You can experience this yourself when observing rising and falling. First you make the effort to be precise in aiming the mind at the rising process. Then your mind reaches the object, and it does not slip off. It impinges on the object, rubs against it.

  As you are mindful in an intuitive and accurate way from moment to moment, the mind gets more and more pure. The hindrances of desire, aversion, sloth, restlessness, and doubt weaken and disappear. The mind becomes crystal clear and calm. This state of clarity results from the presence of the two jhānic factors we just discussed. It is called viveka, which means seclusion. The consciousness is secluded, far away from the hindrances. This viveka is not a jhānic factor. It is merely a descriptive term for this secluded state of consciousness.

  The third jhānic factor is pīti, rapture, a delighted interest in what is occurring. This factor may manifest physically as gooseflesh, as feelings of being dropped suddenly as if in an elevator, or as feelings of rising off the ground. The fourth jhānic factor, sukha, happiness or comfort, comes on the heels of the third. One feels very satisfied with the practice. Because both the third and the fourth jhānic factors come about as a result of seclusion from the hindrances, they are called vivekaja pīti sukha, meaning the rapture, joy, and happiness born out of seclusion.

  Think of this sequence as a causal chain. Seclusion of mind comes about because of the presence of the first two jhānic factors. If the mind is accurately aimed at the object, if it hits it and rubs it, after some time the mind will become secluded. Because this mind is secluded from the hindrances, one becomes happy, joyous, and comfortable.

  When these first four jhānic factors are present, the mind automatically becomes calm and peaceful, able to concentrate on what is happening without getting scattered or dispersed. This one-pointedness of mind is the fifth jhānic factor, samādhi, or concentration.

  Access to the First Vipassanā Jhāna Requires Insight into Mind and Matter

  It is not sufficient to have all five factors present for one to say one has attained the first vipassanā jhāna. The mind must also come to penetrate into the Dhamma a little bit, enough to see the interrelat
ionship of mind and matter. At this time we say that access to the first vipassanā jhāna has occurred.

  A yogi whose mind is composed of these five jhānic factors will experience a new accuracy of mindfulness, a new level of success in sticking with the object. Intense rapture, happiness, and comfort in the body may also arise. This could be the occasion for him or her to gloat over the wondrousness of the meditation practice. “Oh wow, I’m getting really precise, and accurate. I even feel like I’m floating in the air!” You might recognize this reflection as a moment of attachment.

  Stopping Within

  Anyone can get caught up in rapture, happiness, and comfort. This attachment to what is happening within us is a manifestation of a special kind of craving, a craving not connected with ordinary, worldly sensual pleasures. Rather, such craving comes directly out of one’s meditation practice. When one is unable to be aware of this craving when it arises, it will interfere with one’s practice. Rather than directly noting, one wallows in the pleasant phenomena unmindfully, or thinks about the further delights that might ensue from one’s practice. Now we can understand the Buddha’s mystifying admonition, for this attachment to the pleasant results of meditation is what he meant by stopping within.

  It seems we have explicated this very short sutta instructing us to avoid wandering without as well as stopping within. There is still a bit more to discuss, however, to deepen our understanding.

  Threefold Seclusion

  The sutta implies that one should avoid certain things when one practices meditation. One avoids contact with kama, or sensual pleasures, and with unwholesome dhammas. One avoids these two things precisely by practicing threefold seclusion: kāya viveka, seclusion of the body; citta viveka, seclusion of mind; and upadhi viveka, which comes as a result of the first two and is a state where defilements and hindrances are very far away and weak.

  Kāya viveka actually refers to seclusion not from a physical body, but from the “body” of objects related to sensual pleasures. This means simply the objects of the senses considered as a group: sounds, visual objects, smells, tastes, and tactile objects.

  Seclusion from unwholesome dhammas comes under the category of citta viveka: seclusion of the mind from the various hindrances that obstruct the growth of concentration and insight. In a practical way, this citta viveka simply means activating mindfulness moment to moment. A yogi who can maintain continuity of mindfulness moment to moment has activated citta viveka.

  These two types of viveka do not come without an effort. For kāya viveka, we must remove ourselves from an environment of sensual pleasures, taking the opportunity to practice in a place conducive to peace of mind. This removal is not in itself sufficient, of course. To acquire citta viveka, we become mindful of all the objects that arise at the six sense doors.

  To be mindful, one must direct the mind toward an object. The effort to be mindful is instrumental in bringing a sense of accuracy in the mind. This aim, this effort toward accuracy in placing the mind squarely on the meditation object, is the first jhānic factor, vitakka.

  So, you must have aiming. You try to observe the rising and falling of the abdomen. Eventually the mind hits the bull’s-eye, clearly noticing sensations of hardness, tension, movement. It begins to impinge and rub against the object. This is vicāra, as we said before. After the mind has been rubbing against its object for some time, it will become engrossed and absorbed into it. When you stay with the rise and fall of the abdomen, fewer thoughts arise. You may even go for some time without having a single thought. Clearly, the mind is free from objects of sense pleasure and also from kilesas that are caused by these objects. Kāya viveka and citta viveka are therefore present. With continued practice, effort, and continuity, the kilesas will fade into extreme remoteness. At last you have the third type of seclusion, upadhi viveka.

  A Special Kind of Happiness

  With upadhi viveka, the mind becomes soft and subtle, light and buoyant, dexterous and flexible. A special kind of happiness, nekkhamma sukha, arises, the happiness and comfort that come from being free from sensual objects as well as from the unwholesome kilesas that react to those objects. So, in place of ordinary apparent happiness, this liberating comfort appears. Does it seem strange that in relinquishing the comfort of the senses, one gains a very comfortable state of being liberated from the very senses we have relinquished? This is the true renunciation of sense pleasures.

  Seclusion of the mind from unwholesome dhammas actually means seclusion of the mind from all kilesas. There is no opportunity for kilesas to arise because the immediate cause of kilesas, namely sense objects, have been given up. Now the word jhāna, the state of being absorbed, takes on a whole new meaning. As a result of the jhānic factors of vitakka, aim, and vicāra, rubbing, sensual pleasures have been given up and the kilesas put away. Not only does jhāna allow absorption, but it also removes kilesas. It burns them away as if it were fire.

  The Relationship of Vitakka and Vicāra

  In the development of jhānic states, these two factors of vitakka and vicāra, accurate aim and impingement, are absolutely important. The two of them have a close relationship, which is much discussed in the scriptures. Below are two examples.

  Imagine that you have a brass cup that is covered with dirt and stains. You take brass polish and put it on a rag. Holding the cup in one hand, you use the other hand to rub the rag against its surface. Working diligently and carefully, soon you will have a shiny cup.

  In the same way, a yogi must hold his or her mind in the particular place where the primary object is occurring, the abdomen. He or she keeps applying mindfulness at that place, rubbing it until the stains and pollution of the kilesas disappear. Then he or she will be able to penetrate into the true nature of what is happening at that spot. He or she will comprehend the process of rising and falling. Of course, if other objects become more prominent than the primary object, a yogi must note them, applying vitakka and vicāra toward the new phenomena.

  Holding the mug with one hand is analogous to vitakka, while the polishing action is analogous to vicāra. Imagine what would happen if this yogi only held on to the mug and did not polish it. It would remain as dirty as before. If he or she tried to polish it without holding it steady, it would again be impossible to do a good job. This illustrates the interdependency of the two factors.

  The second example is that of a compass, the kind used in geometry. As you know, a compass has two arms, a pointed one and another that holds the pencil. You must firmly place your mind on the object of meditation, as if your mind were the pointed end of the compass, and then you must rotate the mind, so to speak, until it can see the object as a whole and very clearly. A perfect circle will result. Again, the placing of the pointed end is analogous to vitakka, and the rotation to vicāra.

  Direct, Intuitive Knowledge

  Sometimes vicāra is translated into English as “investigation” or “sustained thought.” This is very misleading. People in the West have been educated since kindergarten to use their intellects, always to seek the whys and wherefores. Unfortunately, this kind of investigation is inappropriate for meditation. Intellectual learning and knowledge is only one of two kinds. The other means of knowledge and learning is direct and intuitive. In meditation one examines the ultimate realities, or paramattha dhammas, directly. One must actually experience them, without thinking about them. This is the only way to attain insight and wisdom relating to things as they really are, the natural state of affairs. One may understand a lot intellectually about ultimate reality. One may have read a great deal, but without experiencing reality directly, there can be no insight.

  The reason why the samatha jhānas can grant tranquility, but do not lead directly to wisdom, is that they have concepts as their objects, rather than objects that can be directly experienced without thinking. The vipassanā jhānas lead to wisdom, because they consist of direct, sustained contact with the ultimate realities.

  Say you have an apple in front of you
and you have heard someone say that it is a very juicy, sweet, and delicious apple. Perhaps instead you come across this same apple and you think, “Boy, that looks like a really juicy apple. I bet it will be very sweet.” You can think, you can bet, but until you take a bite you will not experience the taste of that fruit. So too with meditation. You may vividly imagine what a certain experience is like, but you have not experienced the real thing until you have actually made the effort to practice in the right way. Then you will have your own insight. There is no arguing with the taste of an apple.

  HINDRANCES AND ANTIDOTES

  Just as darkness engulfs a room in the middle of the night when there is no candle, so the darkness of delusion and ignorance arises in the human mind when it is not properly attuned to the object of meditation. This darkness is not empty and uneventful, though. On the contrary, in each moment of ignorance the mind is continually seeking and grasping after desirable sights, sounds, thoughts, smells, tastes, and sensations. Beings in this condition spend all their waking hours seeking, grasping, and clinging. They are so enmeshed that it is difficult for them to appreciate the possibility of another sort of happiness beyond those sensual pleasures that are so familiar. Talk of meditation, the practical method of achieving a higher happiness, will be unintelligible to them.

  Vipassanā practice is a full and continuous attention to the object. This involves two aspects of concentration, vitakka and vicāra: aiming and rubbing, discussed above. These two jhānic factors keep the mind absorbed in the object of noting. If they are absent, the mind will stray. Bombarded by sense objects and kilesas, especially the kilesas of longing for sensual objects, the mind will be engulfed by delusion and ignorance. There will be no light, no chance for the remaining three jhānic factors to assemble with the first two to create the environment of peace, clarity, and joy where insight blossoms.