The meditation we teach is called Insight Meditation.
As we have already said, the variety of possible objects of meditation is nearly
unlimited, and human beings have used an enormous number down through the ages. Even
within the Vipassana tradition there are variances. There are meditation teachers who
teach their students to follow the breath by watching the rise and fall of the abdomen.
Others recommend focusing attention on the touch of the body against the cushion, or hand
against hand, or the feeling of one leg against the other. The method we are explaining
here, however, is considered the most traditional and is probably what Gotama Buddha
taught his students. The Satipatthana Sutta, the Buddha's original discourse on
mindfulness, specifically says that one must begin by focusing the attention on the
breathing and then go on to note all other physical and mental phenomena which arise.
We sit, watching the air going in and out of our noses. At
first glance, this seems an exceedingly odd and useless procedure. Before going on to
specific instructions, let us examine the reason behind it. The first question we might
address is why use any focus of attention at all? We are, after all, trying to develop
awareness. Why not just sit down and be aware of whatever happens to be present in the
mind? In fact there are meditations of that nature. They are sometimes referred to as
unstructured meditation and they are quite difficult. The mind is tricky. Thought is an
inherently complicated procedure. By that we mean we become trapped, wrapped up, and stuck
in the thought chain. One thought leads to another which leads to another, and another,
and another, and so on. Fifteen minutes later we suddenly wake up and realize we spent
that whole time stuck in a daydream or sexual fantasy or a set of worries about our bills
or whatever.
There is a difference between being aware of a thought and
thinking a thought. That difference is very subtle. It is primarily a matter of feeling or
texture. A thought you are simply aware of with bare attention feels light in texture;
there is a sense of distance between that thought and the awareness viewing it. It arises
lightly like a bubble, and it passes away without necessarily giving rise to the next
thought in that chain. Normal conscious thought is much heavier in texture. It is
ponderous, commanding, and compulsive. It sucks you in and grabs control of consciousness.
By its very nature it is obsessional, and it leads straight to the next thought in the
chain, apparently with no gap between them.
Conscious thought sets up a corresponding tension in the
body, such as muscular contraction or a quickening of the heartbeat. But you won't feel
tension until it grows to actual pain, because normal conscious thought is also greedy. It
grabs all your attention and leaves none to notice its own effect. The difference between
being aware of the thought and thinking the thought is very real. But it is extremely
subtle and difficult to see. Concentration is one of the tools needed to be able to see
this difference.
Deep concentration has the effect of slowing down the
thought process and speeding up the awareness viewing it. The result is the enhanced
ability to examine the thought process. Concentration is our microscope for viewing subtle
internal states. We use the focus of attention to achieve one-pointedness of mind with
calm and constantly applied attention. Without a fixed reference point you get lost,
overcome by the ceaseless waves of change flowing round and round within the mind.
We use breath as our focus. It serves as that vital
reference point from which the mind wanders and is drawn back. Distraction cannot be seen
as distraction unless there is some central focus to be distracted from. That is the frame
of reference against which we can view the incessant changes and interruptions that go on
all the time as a part of normal thinking.
Ancient Pali texts liken meditation to the process of
taming a wild elephant. The procedure in those days was to tie a newly captured animal to
a post with a good strong rope. When you do this the elephant is not happy. He screams and
tramples, and pulls against the rope for days. Finally it sinks through his skull that he
can't get away, and he settles down. At this point you can begin to feed him and to handle
him with some measure of safety. Eventually you can dispense with the rope and post
altogether, and train your elephant for various tasks. Now you've got a tamed elephant
that can be put to useful work. In this analogy the wild elephant is your wildly active
mind, the rope is mindfulness, and the post is our object of meditation-- breathing. The
tamed elephant who emerges from this process is a well trained, concentrated mind that can
then be used for the exceedingly tough job of piercing the layers of illusion that obscure
reality. Meditation tames the mind.
The next question we need to address is: Why choose
breathing as the primary object of meditation? Why not something a bit more interesting?
Answers to this are numerous. A useful object of meditation should be one that promotes
mindfulness. It should be portable, easily available and cheap. It should also be
something that will not embroil us in those states of mind from which we are trying to
free ourselves, such as greed, anger and delusion. Breathing satisfies all these criteria
and more. Breathing is something common to every human being. We all carry it with us
wherever we go. It is always there, constantly available, never ceasing from birth till
death, and it costs nothing.
Breathing is a non-conceptual process, a thing that can be
experienced directly without a need for thought. Furthermore, it is a very living process,
an aspect of life that is in constant change. The breath moves in cycles--inhalation,
exhalation, breathing in and breathing out. Thus it is miniature model of life itself.
The sensation of breath is subtle, yet it is quite
distinct when you learn to tune into it. It takes a bit of an effort to find it. Yet
anybody can do it. You've got to work at it, but not too hard. For all these reasons,
breathing makes an ideal object of meditation. Breathing is normally an involuntary
process, proceeding at its own pace without a conscious will. Yet a single act of will can
slow it down or speed it up. Make it long and smooth or short and choppy. The balance
between involuntary breathing and forced manipulation of breath is quite delicate. And
there are lessons to be learned here on the nature of will and desire. Then, too, that
point at the tip of the nostril can be viewed as a sort of a window between the inner and
outer worlds. It is a nexus point and energy-transfer spot where stuff from the outside
world moves in and becomes a part of what we call 'me', and where a part of me flows forth
to merge with the outside world. There are lessons to be learned here about self- concept
and how we form it.
Breath is a phenomenon common to all living things. A true
experiential understanding of the process moves you closer to other living beings. It
shows you your inherent connectedness with all of life. Finally, breathing is a
present-time process. By that we mean it is always occurring in the here-and-now. We don't
normally live in the present, of course. We spend most of our time caught up in memories
of the past or leaping ahead to the future, full of worries and plans. The breath has none
of that 'other-timeness'. When we truly observe the breath, we are automatically placed in
the present. We are pulled out of the morass of mental images and into a bare experience
of the here- and-now. In this sense, breath is a living slice of reality. A mindful
observation of such a miniature model of life itself leads to insight that are broadly
applicable to the rest of our experience.
The first step in using the breath as an object of
meditation is to find it. What you are looking for is the physical, tactile sensation of
the air that passes in and out of the nostrils. This is usually just inside the tip of the
nose. But the exact spot varies from one person to another, depending on the shape of the
nose. To find your own point, take a quick deep breath and notice the point just inside
the nose or on the upper lip where you have the most distinct sensation of passing air.
Now exhale and notice the sensation at the same point. It is from this point that you will
follow the whole passage of breath. Once you have located your own breath point with
clarity, don't deviate from that spot. Use this single point in order to keep your
attention fixed. Without having selected such a point, you will find yourself moving in
and out of the nose, going up and down the windpipe, eternally chasing after the breath
which you can never catch because it keeps changing, moving and flowing.
If you ever sawed wood you already know the trick. As a
carpenter, you don't stand there watching the saw blade going up and down. You will get
dizzy. You fix your attention on the spot where the teeth of the blade dig into the wood.
It is the only way you can saw a straight line. As a meditator, you focus your attention
on that single spot of sensation inside the nose. From this vantage point, you watch the
entire movement of breath with clear and collected attention. Make no attempt to control
the breath. This is not a breathing exercise of the sort done in Yoga. Focus on the
natural and spontaneous movement of the breath. Don't try to regulate it or emphasize it
in any way. Most beginners have some trouble in this area. In order to help themselves
focus on the sensation, they unconsciously accentuate their breathing. The results is a
forced and unnatural effort that actually inhibits concentration rather than helping it.
Don't increase the depth of your breath or its sound. This latter point is especially
important in group meditation. Loud breathing can be a real annoyance to those around you.
Just let the breath move naturally, as if you were asleep. Let go and allow the process to
go along at its own rhythm.
This sounds easy, but it is trickier than you think. Do
not be discouraged if you find your own will getting in the way. Just use that as an
opportunity to observe the nature of conscious intention. Watch the delicate interrelation
between the breath, the impulse to control the breath and the impulse to cease controlling
the breath. You may find it frustrating for a while, but it is highly profitable as a
learning experience, and it is a passing phase. Eventually, the breathing process will
move along under its own steam. And you will feel no impulse to manipulate it. At this
point you will have learned a major lesson about your own compulsive need to control the
universe.
Breathing, which seems so mundane and uninteresting at
first glance, is actually an enormously complex and fascinating procedure. It is full of
delicate variations, if you look. There is inhalation and exhalation, long breath and
short breath, deep breath, shallow breath, smooth breath and ragged breath. These
categories combine with one another in subtle and intricate ways. Observe the breath
closely. Really study it. You find enormous variations and constant cycle of repeated
patterns. It is like a symphony. Don't observe just the bare outline of the breath. There
is more to see here than just an in-breath and an out-breath. Every breath has a beginning
middle and end. Every inhalation goes through a process of birth, growth and death and
every exhalation does the same. The depth and speed of your breathing changes according to
your emotional state, the thought that flows through your mind and the sounds you hear.
Study these phenomena. You will find them fascinating.
This does not mean, however, that you should be sitting
there having little conversations with yourself inside your head: "There is a short
ragged breath and there is a deep long one. I wonder what's next?" No, that is not
Vipassana. That is thinking. You will find this sort of thing happening, especially in the
beginning. This too is a passing phase. Simply note the phenomenon and return your
attention toward the observation of the sensation of breath. Mental distractions will
happen again. But return your attention to your breath again, and again, and again, and
again, for as long as it takes until it does not happen anymore.
When you first begin this procedure, expect to face some
difficulties. Your mind will wander off constantly, darting around like a drunken
bumblebee and zooming off on wild tangents. Try not to worry. The monkey-minded phenomenon
is well known. It is something that every advanced meditator has had to deal with. They
have pushed through it one way or another, and so can you. When it happens, just not the
fact that you have been thinking, day-dreaming, worrying, or whatever. Gently, but firmly,
without getting upset or judging yourself for straying, simply return to the simple
physical sensation of the breath. Then do it again the next time, and again, an again, and
again.
Somewhere in this process, you will come face-to-face with
the sudden and shocking realization that you are completely crazy. Your mind is a
shrieking, gibbering madhouse on wheels barreling pell-mell down the hill, utterly out of
control and hopeless. No problem. You are not crazier than you were yesterday. It has
always been this way, and you just never noticed. You are also no crazier than everybody
else around you. The only real difference is that you have confronted the situation; they
have not. So they still feel relatively comfortable. That does not mean that they are
better off. Ignorance may be bliss, but it does not lead to liberation. So don't let this
realization unsettle you. It is a milestone actually, a sigh of real progress. The very
fact that you have looked at the problem straight in the eye means that you are on your
way up and out of it.
In the wordless observation of the breath, there are two
states to be avoided: thinking and sinking. The thinking mind manifests most clearly as
the monkey-mind phenomenon we have just been discussing. The sinking mind is almost the
reverse. As a general term, sinking mind denotes any dimming of awareness. At its best, it
is sort of a mental vacuum in which there is no thought, no observation of the breath, no
awareness of anything. It is a gap, a formless mental gray area rather like a dreamless
sleep. Sinking mind is a void. Avoid it.
Vipassana meditation is an active function. Concentration
is a strong, energetic attention to one single item. Awareness is a bright clean
alertness. Samahdhi and Sati--these are the two faculties we wish to cultivate. And
sinking mind contains neither. At its worst, it will put you to sleep. Even at its best it
will simply waste your time.
When you find you have fallen into a state of sinking
mind, just note the fact and return your attention to the sensation of breathing. Observe
the tactile sensation of the in-breath. Feel the touch sensation of the out-breath.
Breathe in, breathe out and watch what happens. When you have been doing that for some
time--perhaps weeks or months--you will begin to sense the touch as a physical object.
Simply continue the process--breathe in and breathe out. Watch what happens. As your
concentration deepens you will have less and less trouble with monkey-mind. Your breathing
will slow down and you will track it more and more clearly, with fewer and fewer
interruptions. You begin to experience a state of great calm in which you enjoy complete
freedom from those things we call psychic irritants. No greed, lust, envy, jealousy or
hatred. Agitation goes away. Fear flees. These are beautiful, clear, blissful states of
mind. They are temporary, and they will end when meditation ends. Yet even these brief
experiences will change your life. This is not liberation, but these are stepping stones
on the path that leads in that direction. Do not, however, expect instant bliss. Even
these stepping stones take time and effort and patience.
The meditation experience is not a competition. There is a
definite goal. But there is no timetable. What you are doing is digging your way deeper
and deeper through the layers of illusion toward realization of the supreme truth of
existence. The process itself is fascinating and fulfilling. It can be enjoyed for its own
sake. There is no need to rush.
At the end of a well-done meditation session you will feel
a delightful freshness of mind. It is peaceful, buoyant, and joyous energy which you can
then apply to the problems of daily living. This in itself is reward enough. The purpose
of meditation is not to deal with problems, however, and problem- solving ability is a
fringe benefit and should be regarded as such. If you place too much emphasis on the
problem-solving aspect, you will find your attention turning to those problems during the
session sidetracking concentration. Don't think about your problems during your practice.
Push them aside very gently.
Take a break from all that worrying and planning. Let your
meditation be a complete vacation. Trust yourself, trust your own ability to deal with
these issues later, using the energy and freshness of mind that you built up during your
meditation. Trust yourself this way and it will actually occur.
Don't set goals for yourself that are too high to reach.
Be gently with yourself. You are trying to follow your own breathing continuously and
without a break. That sounds easy enough, so you will have a tendency at the outset to
push yourself to be scrupulous and exacting. This is unrealistic. Take time in small units
instead. At the beginning of an inhalation, make the resolve to follow the breath just for
the period of that one inhalation. Even this is not so easy, but at least it can be done.
Then, at the start of the exhalation, resolve to follow the breath just for that one
exhalation, all the way through. You will still fail repeatedly, but keep at it.
Every time you stumble, start over. Take it one breath at
a time. This is the level of the game where you can actually win. Stick at it--fresh
resolve with every breath cycle, tiny units of time. Observe each breath with care and
precision, taking it one split second on top of another, with fresh resolve piled one on
top of the other. In this way, continuous and unbroken awareness will eventually result.
Mindfulness of breathing is a present-time awareness. When
you are doing it properly, you are aware only of what is occurring in the present. You
don't look back and you don't look forward. You forget about the last breath, and you
don't anticipate the next one. When the inhalation is just beginning, you don't look ahead
to the end of that inhalation. You don't skip forward to the exhalation which is to
follow. You stay right there with what is actually taking place. The inhalation is
beginning, and that's what you pay attention to; that and nothing else.
This meditation is a process of retraining the mind. The
state you are aiming for is one in which you are totally aware of everything that is
happening in your own perceptual universe, exactly the way it happens, exactly when it is
happening; total, unbroken awareness in the present time. This is an incredibly high goal,
and not to be reached all at once. It takes practice, so we start small. We start by
becoming totally aware of one small unit of time, just one single inhalation. And, when
you succeed, you are on your way to a whole new experience of life.