Concentration and Meditation
For many people the act of concentration is
synonymous with meditation. That is probably the reason why so many good
Buddhists are more or less satisfied with the notion that when they are
doing something in a concentrated fashion -- such as reading, working,
playing golf -- they are already meditating. They are partly right and
partly wrong.
Actually, concentration is only a part
of meditation. The essence of meditation is to reach a higher form of understanding,
panna, to stretch the mind beyond the boundaries of the intellect into
the realm of the intuitive, of insight-wisdom. In most cases, meditative
disciplines require collecting the mind to a one-pointed state in the initial
stages. The first method used is to train the mind to concentrate on one
single object.
If one considers the pure act of concentration
one uses in one's work or hobby, one sees that the objective of such a
feat is quite different from that of meditation. In our work or hobby we
are merely concerned with accomplishing something that is outside of us
generally, like job success, winning a game of golf, completing a scientific
experiment, etc. In meditation, however, the achievement is inward, an
achievement of self-understanding and spiritual insight. In the initial
stages of meditation it may be necessary to concentrate on objects that
are external to one's mind, like on the nostrils, or on the movement of
the abdomen, until the mind is collected at one point. This type of one-pointed
collectedness also occurs while we work or play, but that's where the similarity
between concentration and meditation ends.
Concentration is pure and simple collectedness
of the mind, whereas meditation is the collected mind moving further toward
the development of insight-wisdom, or vipassana. In meditation, the awareness
of the mind automatically shifts onto the mind itself and of its own accord
focuses on its workings and processes, ultimately leading to true self-knowledge.
Though we may come to some form of understanding
while concentrating on work and play, this type of knowledge or understanding
is intellect-bound, whereas meditative knowledge is intuitive and spiritual.
Therefore, the two kinds of understanding are entirely different in nature
and serve completely different purposes.
In pure concentration, there is always
duality in the mind -- "I" and "what I am doing." There is a subject, an
object and the process of doing. In other words, there is the knower, the
known and the knowing. Meditation also begins with these three. But eventually
the mind transcends these divisions by turning inward toward itself. The
ultimate enlightenment experience is the state where the differentiation
of knower, the known and the knowing ceases.
To confuse concentration with meditation
leads to the difficult-to-overcome states of apathy and self-satisfaction.
Thus, the concept that concentration and meditation are the same is a misunderstanding
that offers us no help on the path to liberation, and may even hamper aspirants
in their inner progress.
MS: You said that in the concentrated
activities of daily life, such as reading or working, there is always a
duality in the mind -- that is, there is the knower, the knowing and the
known. It seems to me that there is a distinction between concentration
in an ordinary activity and absorption in an actifity like painting or
making music or some other artistic endeavor where the knower, the knowing
and the known seem to disappear. This grey area comes up again and again
in Dhamma talks and questions. Would you elaborate on this?
Thynn: Actually, during absorption
in artistic activities like painting or making music, etc., the knower,
the knowing and the known do not completely disappear. What happens is
that, in these moments of heightened artistic activity, the person experiences
a kind of rapture where the sense of "I-ness" fades away to a great extent
but not completely. Also, the person is still conscious of the object,
be it painting or making music or whatever. Therefore, the known also does
not completely disappear. I call these kinds of experiences "pseudo-spiritual
incidences," because they come close to jhanic absorptions, but are not
quite so. On the other hand, these raptures in artistic endeavors allow
the artist to become more pliable and spiritual than most people.
Mindfulness and Awareness
E: How we can practice mindfulness in daily
life?
Thynn: Generally, our awareness
is very much preoccupied with the external situation, with whatever we
contact through our six senses. Invariably, we react to these sensations
in a habitual way. We repeat our behavior again and again, without awareness
of what is happening in our minds. In Buddhism this is known as avijja,
or ignorance. This does not mean intellectual ignorance, but specifically
lack of insight into oneself.
E: But we do seem to know our own minds,
don't we?
In one sense we do, but only in a sluggish
manner. For example, when we go through an emotional upheaval, we are aware
of it only after the incident is over. At the time of the turmoil we are
lost in our confusion.
We generally focus on the external factors
we think are affecting us. Take, for example, the case of eating. Our attention
is focused on the food: its taste, its smell and appearance. If the food
is not up to our expectations, we immediately react to it with annoyance
-- or even anger, if we are already in a bad mood. Then we are apt to vent
our anger on anyone or anything we come into contact with.
But if we look at the situation analytically,
we will see that the problem does not begin outside of us. Another person
who is not concerned with that food, or who even likes it, will enjoy it
without making a fuss. So the root of the problem is not in the food but
in our judgmental and discriminating mind. The moment we start thinking,
"I don't like it," we reject the existing situation as being unacceptable.
This rejection always ends up in anger or tension in one form or another.
E: Then how do we practice awareness?
Awareness cannot be practiced.
E: Oh? But we hear and read so much
about practicing awareness in Buddhism, don't we?
There has been some confusion between awareness
and mindfulness.
E: But I always thought they were the
same.
They are related, but distinct. Sati, or
mindfulness, implies there is action of the mind. We purposely set ourselves
to pay attention to our minds. We exert effort. Awareness is different.
Awareness is devoid of any action.
The mind simply "awares." There is no action
here, only a collected and spontaneous awareness that just "sees." Here,
mindfulness is the cause, and awareness is the effect. You cannot practice
or train the effect. You can only practice something that will cause it.
We have to start with mindfulness so that awareness may arise in us.
E: How do we practice mindfulness?
Normally, our minds are in constant motion,
thinking, feeling, endlessly flitting from one thing to another. Because
of this perpetual motion, there is little room for awareness to arise.
Awareness may peek through at times, but it is too timid. It is sluggish
and dull. Most often our noisy thoughts and emotions dominate the scene.
The mind must get out of this perpetual cycle for awareness to arise fully.
E: How does this happen?
The mind must readjust itself, redirecting
its usually externally oriented attention onto mindfulness of itself. When
we redirect ourselves in this way, we replace all other mental activities
with mindfulness. Rather than getting caught in all the mental activities,
we are left only with "paying attention." At each single moment the mind
can accommodate only one mind state. For example, we cannot be angry and
be happy at the same time, can we?
E: Goodness, no.
When there is anger in our minds, there
is no room for happiness. When mindfulness occupies the whole of our minds,
there is no room for any thought or emotion to arise at that specific mind-moment.
There is pure attentiveness. When this attentiveness is total, the perpetual
roller-coaster state of the mind is broken: the mind finds a balanced footing
in itself. Then awareness can arise on its own accord. When there is
complete balance, there is awareness.
E: Can you relate this to the incident
of eating?
Well, suppose you are used to paying attention
to your mind. As soon as you see the food, and thoughts of dislike enter
your mind, you will be aware of what is happening in you. When you watch
your feelings of like and dislike without judgment, you will be left only
with the watching. There is no chance for subsequent thoughts to arise.
In short, your emotions will be stopped in their tracks instead of building
up. Maybe you cannot stop your dislike of the food, but that is not important.
The crucial thing is that when you are stopped in your tracks, you begin
to see the situation "as it is" and not "as I want it." This "seeing" is
the awareness we are talking about. Instead of reacting with anger, you
can now relate to the situation in a relatively calm way and deal with
it rationally, with harmony. The situation leads constructively to your
own and others' satisfaction.
E: You mean awareness dispels all the
confusion in you?
Yes, it does.
E: But how?
You see, in awareness the mind becomes
an "all-seeing" state -- which in Buddhism is called panna (insight wisdom).
Although we say awareness, this awareness is not just "being" aware. It
is not a passive state. It brings with it a dynamic perception which cuts
through all confusions in the mind.
The total external situation is revealed
in its entirety with transparent clarity. When we see the world through
our own confusion, the scene is very much distorted. The more confused
we are, the more distorted our view of the world is. Therefore, our reactions
are also distorted, and we create confusion around us. It is only when
confusion is transcended by panna that we have clarity in ourselves. With
this clarity we can deal with the external situation in a wholesome and
creative way.
In the Moment
P: Why is it that we find it so refreshing
to go to a place which is totally different from what we are used to? I
always find it necessary to get away from my normal life and take a break,
to find a change of scene and environment. Is that quite normal?
Thynn: I don't know whether you
would call it normal or abnormal, but one can say that it is quite usual.
It is quite usual for us to feel suffocated and hemmed in by our lives.
One feels the need to get away from it all, to take a break, and to find
new experiences to sustain oneself.
But you must also understand that it is
not mainly the suffocating life situation that is driving us to seek relief
temporarily, though that does help to some extent. The main reason is that
one is not free in the present moment. When one is not free, one cannot
experience this very moment fully and completely.
P: So one is actually seeking a diversion
when one does not find satisfaction in the present. But even when one gets
to a new place and finds the new experience to be exciting, the satisfaction
does not last for long, because it only satisfies the senses and not the
spirit.
Yes, this is true. When you get back to
your original situation, you find that you are on the old treadmill again.
But, come to think of it, what is it that makes you feel contented and
satisfied? You can be contented and satisfied only when the mind is free
from desires and clinging, for only the free mind can experience each moment
fully and completely.
To a mind free from desires, free from
conflicts and frustrations, each moment is fresh and new. If your mind
is always burdened with conflicts and frustrations, you cannot experience
the moment fully. There is no clarity or room for experience. In this sort
of situation you are either living in the past or in the future; the experience
of the present is only partial. You are only partly aware of the present,
so to say. You do not experience the freshness of the moment, the joy of
everything you come into contact with. So you go out to seek freshness
in other places, from other people, in new relationships and so on. However,
the cycle continues, because the root of the problem is not in the environment
but within yourself. Until that truth is properly understood and dealt
with, you continue the search for satisfaction everywhere, and yet find
it nowhere.
Meditation without Meditation
R: What is sitting meditation?
Thynn: You purposefully quiet your
mind so that you can go deeper and deeper within yourself.
R: Then why don't you teach us sitting
meditation?
Buddhist vipassana meditation (insight
meditation) involves four methods. First, kaya-nupassana, meditation on
the body. For example, the in-breath and out-breath, walking, sitting and
standing. Second, vedana-nupassana, contemplation on sensations and feelings.
Third, citta-nupassana, contemplation on the mind. And fourth, dhamma-nupassana,
contemplation on mental and intellectual objects.
R: You mean all this time I have been
meditating on the last three?
What else? Yes, you have been meditating
on the last three.
R: You mean in all the struggling I
have done watching my feelings and confusions, struggling with the discussions
in the group and with my readings, I have been meditating all the time
and never even knew I was meditating?
This is a good way of putting it. Yes,
you have been meditating without knowing that you were meditating. This
is called "meditation without meditation."
R: But why are we so stuck with the
idea that to meditate we must sit in a certain way at a certain time?
You see, institutional forms of vipassana
meditation have become extremely popular in Asian Buddhist countries and
in the West. Whatever methods the teachers and founders of these institutions
may use, there is one feature common to all of them: a structured system
or form within which the student of meditation learns to meditate. So meditation
has become synonymous with sitting meditation.
R: But how does meditation without meditation
work? I mean, how does it achieve results without our having to go through
rigorous discipline?
I think you mean the rigor of the sitting
meditation as a discipline. You see, the sitting is only an aid to the
more important discipline of the mind. The sitting is not to train the
body per se, but to train the mind in the art of mindfulness and in going
beyond. In formal meditation you concentrate on the body at one point --
either on the breath or on sensations -- in order to relinquish any thoughts,
feelings or intellectual activities of the mind, to help it become collected
at one point. In the process you learn to watch the mind without judgment
and discrimination and also learn to let go.
R: But you have been telling us the
same thing: to watch the mind, to let go, etc.
Exactly. You can watch your mind while
you quietly sit in the meditative posture, or you can do so while you function
in your daily life. Either way is feasible, depending on your own disposition.
In the unstructured approach, you have
to face yourself very often. In trying to let go, you must first of all
face your own ego and pride. Nobody wants to face his or her own ego. It
is too painful. It takes great mental effort to do so. In this unstructured
approach, facing your own ego is itself a meditative act of the mind. It
requires sati (mindfulness), effort, samadhi (collectedness of mind) and
equanimity. It may not require the rigorous disciplining of the body, but
it definitely requires perseverance and rigorous disciplining of the mind.
R: But what about our discussions and
readings? How do they help develop insight?
In sitting meditation, you purposefully
waive intellectualization by concentrating on one single point -- let us
say, on the breathing. However, in this less formal approach I am teaching,
you use the intellect as a tool to develop insight. Reading, discussing
and contemplating the Dhamma sharpen your intellect and insight. But there
is a very important point here. If your efforts are only at the intellectual
level, then you will only collect intellectual knowledge. This is quite
different from actual experiential insight. In our discussions we have
always gone beyond intellectualization of the Dhamma. We have gone into
personal experience, into the nitty-gritty of life as we live and struggle
through. Do you remember many times you've said: "It's impossible; I can't
understand it. I can't let go of my opinions and clinging"?
R: Yes, that's right.
And many times you've said, "if I understand,
I'll let go." But you found that: you can understand only when you let
go of intellectualization.
R: That is correct.
You make use of your intellect only where
it works. The intellect has a limit; it can only go so far. When it is
exhausted, it just lets go. That is when you experience the "seeing." Then
the "understanding" just hits you.
R: But there is a price for this. My
goodness, I had to pay so much -- all my pride, my likes and dislikes,
my clinging. How I loved my clinging! I had to learn to let go of all that.
It was not an easy thing. In fact, it was an enormous struggle, mind you,
and sometimes agonizing.
Yes, one does not get something for nothing.
But it depends on how we persevere, how willing we are to look within ourselves.
We have to be brave enough to face ourselves. That is a great struggle
and it takes great effort and courage to do so. But it is, in fact, an
effortless effort.
R: Oh?
Yes, you are making an effort without really
consciously "trying" to make an effort. In Buddhism that is called viriya.
It can happen in daily life or in sitting meditation.
R: You mean we are transcending ourselves
during all this struggling?
Exactly. You've been doing that without
knowing you were transcending yourself. In sitting meditation, you are
taught the "how-to" of letting go at each and every step of the way. The
difference here is that you let go without knowing it. Your intellect just
simply cannot go any further; it just lets itself go.
R: Oh, that's why, when I try to think
about the Dhamma and our discussions, I don't really understand. But later
on when I stop thinking about them, the "understanding" just strikes me.
It isn't my doing. It just comes like lightning out of the blue. At one
point I thought your discussions were too intellectual, especially the
Abhidhamma teachings.
Yes, you can even make use of the dullest
intellectual treatise in the Pali Canon to transcend yourself!
R: Well, that's something new.
Even that is not! Nothing is ever wasted,
if you know how to make use of it. All of our sessions, even the Abhidhamma
teachings, helped you stretch your mind. You were making your mind more
and more elastic without knowing it. You went further than you had ever
gone before. Your mind had to stretch beyond its previous rigid orbit.
The more difficult the discussions, the more your mind was exercised. You
may not have understood anything during those sessions, but they helped
you acquire the plasticity of mind that is so essential to going beyond
the mundane.
R: Yes, many times I felt lost and confused.
That was because your intellect was at
work. But when the intellect reaches its limit, it just drops away. Many
of you have been asking me: what is the method? What do we have to do to
achieve understanding? You are so conditioned to systems and methods and
to structured learning that you can't see that there is an approach without
any form or structure. What have we been doing in all our sessions? All
the struggling you had to do within yourselves is the means to self-understanding.
Whether you call it method or non-method is irrelevant.
R: I see now. We were left very much
on our own to sort things out by ourselves. No methods and no gurus.
Yes, that is the way it is. When you have
a guru, you cling to your guru. When you are working with a method, you
cling to your method. You become dependent on them. Then you lose the impetus
to investigate freely and learn for yourself. Our approach has no strict
form or structure in the practice, but all the qualities of the bojjhanga
-- the seven factors of enlightenment -- are already integrated in the
process we have been in.
R: What are the seven factors of enlightenment?
They are mindfulness, investigation, energy,
joy, tranquillity, concentration and equanimity. You have been practicing
mindfulness with perseverance within the context of daily life, which in
fact has been slowly building up concentration or samadhi. Not only that
-- the act of mindfulness in daily life is also an investigative process
into the nature of your own mind with equanimity.
The investigation is also taking place
while you are reading, studying or discussing with the group. Remember
that our discussions were not just theoretical. They dealt with how to
incorporate the teachings into our lives and to see through our problems
of living by using the Dhamma. We have also seen how we need the right
amount of effort and energy to observe our mind, to study and investigate
it. And we have found that the pursuit itself, though difficult, brings
peace and joy. In this manner, our way of life itself then becomes the
Path to Enlightenment. This is the practice of dhamma-nupassana.
[0. Contents]
[1. Introduction] [2.
Freedom to begin] [3. Living Meditation]
[4. Reflection on Meditation] [5.
Creative Living] [6. Appendix]