ksiazka

CONTRACTED AND DISTRACTED

Besides mentioning lust, anger, and delusion, the first part of the instructions distinguishes between a contracted and a distracted state of mind. The implications of a contracted mind are open to question (Anālayo 2003: 178). One mode of interpretation would be to assume that in this case both mental states are detrimental. On this interpretation, a contracted mental condition could be the outcome of sloth-and-torpor or else the result of becoming narrow-minded or contracting mentally out of fear or aversion. Distraction could then refer to any scattered condition of the mind.

Alternatively, this pair could be interpreted in line with the general pattern in the listing of mental states in the Satipaṭṭhāna-sutta as involving a contrast between a positive and a negative state, or between a superior and an inferior mental condition. Following this mode of interpretation, the present pair would involve the difference between a mind that is not distracted, in the sense of being collected, and a mind that is distracted. Although to my mind the actual terminology makes the first interpretation more probable, I would leave it up to the individual practitioner to decide which of these two interpretations appears more meaningful for actual practice.

Whichever interpretation we adopt, there is no doubt that this part of the instructions requires identifying a condition of mental distraction for what it is. The challenge here is that distractions can at times be rather subtle and often also quite enticing. For this reason it is particularly important to stick to the element of mindful recognition. This requires withstanding the temptation to let ourselves be carried away by the (at least momentarily) pleasurable condition of a distracted mind. For genuine progress to liberation even subtle distraction needs to be acknowledged for what it is: a condition of the mind that diverts our attention and therefore is not conducive to our meditative growth.

HIGHER STATES OF MIND

The remaining four pairs in the instructions are less concerned with defilements. Here is the relevant passage:

Or one knows a mind that has become great to be “a mind that has become great”; or one knows a mind that has not become great to be “a mind that has not become great”; or one knows a surpassable mind to be “a surpassable mind”; or one knows an unsurpassable mind to be “an unsurpassable mind”; or one knows a concentrated mind to be “a concentrated mind”; or one knows a not concentrated mind to be “a not concentrated mind”; or one knows a liberated mind to be “a liberated mind”; or one knows a not liberated mind to be “a not liberated mind.”

The four terms mentioned in the second half of the instructions refer to a mind that has become:

• great (or not),

• surpassable (or not),

• concentrated (or not),

• liberated (or not).

The qualification “great” employed for the first of these is also used for the cultivation of the brahmavihāras (Anālayo 2003: 179 and 2015: 55f). In a more general sense, this category could be taken to point to an opening of the heart. In addition, a mind that has become great could also come about through other modes of cultivating tranquillity. Yet I suggest including these rather under the header of the third term, the mind that is “concentrated”, in order to be able to associate distinct meanings with these different categories when applied in actual practice.

The second pair mentioned in the instruction concerns the mind that is either surpassable or unsurpassable. Within the realm of absorption attainment, an unsurpassed condition of the mind will be reached with the attainment of the highest absorption (Anālayo 2003: 179). In a general sense, however, I would take this pair to point to the ability to recognize whether a particular meditative experience can be taken further. In other words, whatever is happening right now in our meditation, does it have the potential to lead to something higher? Or have we already arrived at what is possible within this particular sitting or course of meditation practice? Moreover, the category of a surpassable mind would also fit the case of the hindrances, which can and should indeed be surpassed.

The third term mentions a mind that is concentrated or not concentrated, which could fruitfully be understood to refer to the monitoring of mindfulness required for the deepening of tranquillity and the eventual attainment of absorption. Mindfulness is in fact present throughout absorption attainment, where it becomes particularly prominent with the third and fourth absorptions (Anālayo 2017a: 150).

Relevant to the present as well as the two preceding categories is the analytical attitude so prominent in early Buddhist meditation theory (Anālayo 2003: 180f). Instead of getting carried away by a particular meditation experience, the task is to recognize the degree of concentration achieved and what mental factors are present in this state of mind. In other words, when during practice the mind tends towards deeper levels of concentration, we simply accompany such natural development with mindful monitoring. Deeper states of tranquillity are an integral part of the path, as long as their impermanent and ultimately unsatisfactory nature is clearly understood and as long as identification with, or even reification of, such experiences is avoided.

The last pair in the Satipaṭṭhāna-sutta’s instructions distinguishes between a mind that is liberated and one that is not liberated. In the highest sense, this would refer to the retrospective knowledge of an arahant who realizes that the mind has been fully liberated (Anālayo 2003: 180). The same term could also be related to the cultivation of tranquillity, in the sense of the mind being liberated from obstructions to absorption attainment. Since absorption has already been covered with the label of the concentrated mind, I prefer to use the present label instead in relation to the cultivation of insight. My suggestion would be to check whether the mind has been at least temporarily liberated from selfing. Can we meditate without the ego making the front page, without constructing the self-referential sense of a meditator who appropriates the meditative experience as something to be owned and possessed? Can the conceit of an I be allowed to go into abeyance during our actual practice?

In this way, according to the mode of interpretation presented here, the four categories introduced in this part of the discourse could be employed with the following practical implications: the mind that has become great (or not) would reflect an opening of the heart, such as reached with the brahmavihāras. The surpassable (or unsurpassable) mind would point to the recognition that meditation can be taken further. The mind that has become concentrated (or not) would involve monitoring the deepening of mental tranquillity to reach absorption. The mind that has become liberated (or not) would reflect the absence of identifications and the sense of a self.

Needless to say, these are just my suggestions. Practitioners should feel free to adjust these in line with their personal understanding and preferences. Whatever interpretation we prefer, when overwhelmed by a hindrance the mind is clearly narrow and not great, as well as neither concentrated nor liberated. As already mentioned above, it is quite definitely surpassable. The task of the next satipaṭṭhāna is precisely to explore the conditions that help us to emerge from a hindrance, to surpass it and thereby allow the mind to become greater, more concentrated, and more liberated than it was when the hindrance was still present.

In a way, qualifications of the mind as great, concentrated, liberated, and even unsurpassable, listed in the instructions for the present satipaṭṭhāna, reflect the role of mindfulness in monitoring the progress of our meditation. A crucial element to be kept in mind for such monitoring, which can range from identifying and overcoming a hindrance to the experience of deep levels of concentration and insight, is that progress in satipaṭṭhāna meditation is not just about having special experiences. Special experiences certainly have their place, but they are not the goal itself. The goal is rather inner transformation. Even the experience of an absorption or a stage of awakening has its true value in the extent to which it produces lasting inner transformation. Meditation practice should result in an improvement in the way we are, how we relate to others, and how we deal with outer circumstances. Such internal changes are more important than appropriating spectacular experiences as markers of our meditative expertise.

In this context it may also be relevant to note that in early Buddhist thought the distinction between path and fruit differs from the way these terms are used in later traditions. Path and fruit are not just two mind-moments immediately following each other. Instead, the path covers the whole trajectory of even years of practice and its fruit is to be found in personal transformation, in the eradication of fetters and defilements. This invests the actual meditative experience with somewhat less weight than is the case when one is influenced by the perspective on path and fruit in later tradition.

OPENING OF THE HEART

Of particular importance in relation to such personal transformation, I believe, is a genuine opening of the heart to the qualities of kindness and compassion. In my personal view, such opening of the heart is a better measuring rod for progress in our practice than having extraordinary experiences. In order to encourage this dimension of practice and also as a way of mirroring the Buddha’s own unswerving quest for awakening, I suggest introducing a formal element of setting our intention at the beginning of each formal sitting. This could be an aspiration like: “May I progress on the path to liberation, for my own benefit and for the benefit of others.”

Evoking such an aspiration affords an opportunity to bring in the path factor of right intention. Needless to say, for satipaṭṭhāna meditation to yield its full potential, it needs to be situated within the context of the noble eightfold path.

Formulating our motivation at the outset of formal meditation provides a reference point for the course of our practice. It clearly sets the direction in which we wish to go. Including an altruistic disposition in this type of reference point is particularly beneficial. It not only encourages the opening of the heart to compassion, but also provides strength during challenging times. Simply said, we are not just practising for ourselves; we are also practising for the sake of others. Awareness of this external dimension of our meditation practice makes it easier to withstand any onslaught of doubt and frustration. Missing out on the compassionate dimension runs the risk of turning the practice of meditation into a self-centred enterprise. Meditating only for our own benefit makes it more difficult to sustain the practice in times of difficulty.

Strictly speaking, compassion is not part of satipaṭṭhāna meditation. It falls under the path factor of right intention in the form of intending to avoid what is harmful for others (and ourselves). Although not explicitly mentioned in the Satipaṭṭhāna-sutta, compassion has been an underlying current through the previous exercises.

Contemplation of the anatomical parts directly counters the tendency for sensual lust to get out of control, which can lead to horrible things like rape or child abuse. This is the very opposite of kindness and compassion.

Contemplation of the elements has made it indubitably clear that we are an inseparable part of outside nature. Discrimination against others due to their race or physical build becomes meaningless once we realize that we are all made up of the same elements. Such a realization makes it easier for us to have compassion and cultivate a genuine concern for the environment.

Recollection of death encourages a willingness to forgive and apologize. Time is just too short to carry a grudge or unnecessarily prolong a conflict. Moreover, having learned to face our own mortality enables us to be of real assistance to others who are dying or mourning.

With the foundation laid by these three body contemplations, contemplation of feeling naturally leads to an increased sensitivity to what happens on the affective level. Based on this groundwork, contemplation of the mind in its internal (and even more so in its external) dimension can become an occasion for a genuine opening of the heart. In the image of the lotus that I like to use to illustrate satipaṭṭhāna meditation (see above here and below here), compassion is like the seeds found inside this lotus.

SKILFUL USE OF LABELS

In terms of actual practice, it is noteworthy that the instructions for contemplation of mental states, as well as the instructions in other parts of the discourse, involve the use of labels. It is certainly not the case that satipaṭṭhāna meditation takes place in the absence of concepts. This relates back to the topic of the coexistence of mindfulness with concepts (see above here) and the relationship between a map and reality (see above here). In the present case, the instructions are formulated in such a way that they imply some degree of mental verbalization. The reference to a mind with anger, for example, is followed by the particle iti, which in Pāli marks the end of a quotation. Clearly the implication is that an explicit conceptual label should be employed in order to sharpen clarity of recognition, almost as if mentally saying to ourselves: “anger”.

At the same time, however, satipaṭṭhāna meditation is not about ceaseless labelling. The use of a label for the sake of clear recognition is best followed by just dwelling in awareness of the texture of the mind, savouring its condition and flavour. In this way, briefly bringing up a label can function in a similar way to quickly checking a compass when hiking in order to make sure we are still going in the right direction. That much is often enough, without any need to keep checking the compass continuously and also pulling out the road map to study it in detail over and over again.

A relevant passage for appreciating the need to beware of excessive thinking activity can be found in the Dvedhāvitakkasutta (MN 19; Anālayo 2013: 146ff). The discourse describes how, during the time before his awakening, the future Buddha divided his thoughts into two types: those that are unwholesome and those that are wholesome. This basic distinction underlies the first states of mind listed in the Satipaṭṭhāna-sutta. Unlike the case of unwholesome thoughts, with their wholesome counterparts the future Buddha saw no danger in having such thoughts. Yet he also saw that excessive thinking will tire body and mind and become an obstruction to the deepening of concentration.

The same applies to satipaṭṭhāna. The use of labelling is a helpful tool, but it should not be overused. Excessive labelling will tire body and mind and become an obstruction to the deepening of our practice. In view of this I like to suggest a simplification of the list of mental states given in the instructions for the present satipaṭṭhāna. In a way, recognition of any of the mental states mentioned in the instructions relies on the presence of mindfulness, which in the mode of practice I am presenting here is in particular an embodied form of mindfulness. For this reason it seems to me sensible to use the simple recognition of whether such mindfulness continues to be present or has been lost as a summary of contemplation of the mind. Such a summary can even be employed at times when bringing in more labels risks tiring the mind and disturbing the flow of meditative practice. Based on this succinct mode, at other times more labels can be brought in, as appropriate.

A mind in which mindfulness is well established has a distinct flavour and texture, such as being open, receptive, flexible, alive, centred, clear, and calm. Familiarizing ourselves with how our mind actually feels when we are mindful helps us to recognize this condition even without any need for labelling. It also enables us to realize quickly when we are about to incur a loss of mindfulness, when the mind just begins to close down, becoming a bit less receptive, slightly contracted, somewhat automatic rather than being really alive to what is taking place, no longer fully centred, somewhat unclear, and not as calm as earlier. Noticing such markers of an impending loss of mindfulness makes it easier to react swiftly and take the appropriate measures in order to become again properly grounded in the presence of mindfulness.

Being well grounded in the presence of mindfulness is an indispensable requirement for progress in meditation. Mindfulness serves to monitor the arousing and balancing of the absorption factors when cultivating tranquillity and of the awakening factors when cultivating insight. In both cases, without a grounding in mindfulness the practice will not unfold its full potential. Hence any time we invest in familiarizing ourselves with the distinct flavour and texture of a mind in which mindfulness is well established, learning how to foster such a mental condition and beware of its loss, is an investment of time that will benefit our meditation practice in many ways.

OPEN PRACTICE

The same grounding continues when shifting to open awareness. Familiarity with the texture of the mind in which mindfulness is established facilitates our being aware that “there is the mind”. Rooted in whole-body awareness we are aware of the impermanent nature of phenomena in whatever way these manifest in the present moment. The simple recognition of whether we are still mentally on track serves as a continuous element during our satipaṭṭhāna meditation. The distinct sense of the embodied presence of mindfulness can become a baseline for the third satipaṭṭhāna, in the sense of enabling a continuous mode of contemplation of the mind. Such baseline practice in turn provides a solid foundation for being able to recognize any of the other mental states, listed in the discourse, as and when they manifest. In this way, just as the continuous presence of proprioceptive awareness can alert us to any loss of bodily balance, so the continuous presence of embodied mindfulness can alert us to any loss of mental balance.

When substantial distractions occur, the first three categories can be employed as soon as the distraction has been recognized. What counts as a substantial distraction can be illustrated with the example of meeting someone on the road, already mentioned above (see above here). If such a meeting just leads to a brief greeting after which we move on, then it need not be considered a substantial distraction. But if we sit down to chat, then this would qualify as a substantial distraction.

In the case of substantial distractions, once we realize, we can look back and try to discern whether we have been experiencing lust, anger, or delusion, ideally also recognizing the feeling tone of that experience. Due to such mindful recognition, lust, anger, or delusion might just vanish. Nevertheless, for a short while we could still keep a lookout for a recurrence of these states. Such a lookout would be a way of recognizing their absence, and rejoicing in their absence will go a long way in preventing their recurrence.

If during practice we find the mind repeatedly getting into thoughts coloured by lust and anger, we might adjust to this situation by giving slightly more importance to impermanence in our main mode of practice. Awareness of impermanence, in particular in relation to pleasant and unpleasant feelings respectively, makes it easier to avoid reacting with desire and aversion. If our mind instead repeatedly gets into deluded distractions, we might give more importance to being fully alive to the present moment in our main mode of practice. In particular the subtle joy of being in the present moment prevents the type of boredom that often fuels the arising of distractions.

IMPERMANENCE

Sustained practice will make it unmistakeably clear that the mind constantly changes. A particular mental state arises only to pass away, followed by the arising of another mental state. Even that which knows is just a process. If it were permanent, it would forever be frozen in the condition of knowing a single thing. The very fact that the mind knows different things makes it indubitably clear that it cannot be permanent.

Any perception or thought is a messenger of impermanence, just as much as any feeling. Practising in this way fulfils the implications of clearly knowing (sampajañña). The canonical passage in question defines clearly knowing in terms of recognition of the impermanent nature of feelings, perceptions, and thoughts as they arise, persist, and then pass away (SN 47.35; Anālayo 2003: 39f).

The constantly changing nature of the mind becomes particularly evident when we get into the type of thought that we would rather avoid. Even though we sit down with the firm intention to cultivate what is wholesome, sooner or later we find that the mind has taken us for a ride and gone to a place where we certainly do not want to be. It becomes so patently obvious that we are not in control of our own mind. The mind is empty, just like the body.

Interestingly, those who have fully realized emptiness through full awakening are also those who have gained control over the mind. Controlling the mind is the result of skilfully working with the conditions of the mind through gradual training. It will not be achieved by merely trying to impose our willpower in the unreasonable expectation that the mind can just be forced to be the way we want.

Although we cannot force the mind to be the way we want, we are able to influence it by cultivating the appropriate causes and conditions. The realization of the conditioned nature of the mind undermines our sense of identification with our own thoughts, views, and opinions. On the positive side of this realization stands the insight that the way we are now is not an innate and unchangeable trait. Instead, it is the product of conditions. Conditions can be influenced and changed, and this is precisely where meditative training comes in. The conditions that are of crucial relevance in this respect are the topic of the fourth satipaṭṭhāna.

The insight perspectives that can be cultivated with contemplation of the mind complete our meditative appreciation of the three characteristics of impermanence, dukkha, and not-self. Body, feeling, and mind are without exception impermanent. What is impermanent is incapable of yielding lasting satisfaction. It is dukkha. According to the definition given in the first noble truth, one of the dimensions of dukkha is not getting what we want. This reflects our inability to control things completely. Body, feeling, and mind are clearly outside of the sphere of our complete control. For this reason, they have to be reckoned as devoid of a self. The self-notion targeted here is precisely about being in complete control. Therefore, what is impermanent and dukkha must be empty of a self.

The same understanding carries over from sitting to walking meditation. During actual walking, importance can be given to the constantly changing nature of the mind that is aware of the walking. Such observation can shift from awareness of impermanence to dukkha and eventually to the empty nature of all phenomena, whenever opportune. The comprehensive vision of body, feeling, and mind in their internal and external dimensions as being subject to the three characteristics reaches its completion at this point. Undertaken in this way, insight into the three characteristics can become our constant companion during any activity.

THE FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS

Insight into the three characteristics during any activity can take as its point of reference right view in the form of the four noble truths. With the previous satipaṭṭhāna practice this has already to some degree become a matter of personal experience. Having verified the practical relevance of this scheme of diagnosis, any problem or challenge in daily life can be approached with its help. This can take place by first of all honestly recognizing the stressful or even painful dimension of the problem or challenge (first truth), followed by discerning the degree to which our own attitude, expectation, or outlook makes a contribution to the stress or pain experienced (second truth). Such discernment in turn makes it quite clear that an adjustment on the side of our attitude, expectation, or outlook stands a good chance of diminishing, if not removing, the stress or pain (third truth). The medication to be applied (fourth truth) can then take the form of insight into the three characteristics. Whatever happens, it certainly is impermanent, therefore it is dukkha anyway, and most certainly it is empty of a self. According to what the situation demands, the medication could be by way of placing emphasis on one of the three characteristics or on all three in combination. The resultant right vision can have a substantially transformative effect, even to the extent of freeing the situation of its stressful or painful repercussions.

Such practical implementation of right view in turn builds a foundation for appreciating further dimensions of the noble eightfold path. Based on the directional input of right view and the compassionate dimension of right intention, it becomes unmistakeably clear why speech, action, and livelihood need to be brought into accord with this directional input. All of these need to evolve into becoming mindfulness-supportive behaviour. The mind is in a way comparable to a pot, which is easily overthrown if it has no stand. The stand required to steady the mind is precisely the noble eightfold path (SN 45.27).

The need for a firm moral foundation finds expression in several discourses in the Satipaṭṭhāna-saṃyutta. Each of these depicts how a monastic, who wants to go into retreat and do intensive practice, asks the Buddha for instructions. The instructions given emphasize the need to purify moral conduct (SN 47.3, SN 47.15, SN 47.16, SN 47.46, and SN 47.47). Established in purified moral conduct, the monastic should then cultivate satipaṭṭhāna. Another discourse even goes so far as to state that the Buddha’s teaching of morality is precisely for the sake of the cultivation of the four satipaṭṭhānas (SN 47.21). From an early Buddhist viewpoint, building a sound moral foundation is clearly indispensable for a proper cultivation of mindfulness.

THE DISTORTED PERCEPTIONS

The contribution made by contemplation of the mind to the hub of the wheel of practice is the knowing of the specific texture of the mind when mindfulness of the body is well established. In addition, at this point of practice insight into impermanence has become comprehensive, covering body, feeling, and mind. The body changes, that which feels the body changes, and that which knows body and feeling also changes. The contribution made to the rim of the wheel is a gradual lessening of identification with the mind. In this way the realization of emptiness also becomes comprehensive.

Looking back at the satipaṭṭhāna meditations cultivated up to this point, the first five spokes in the wheel involve a progressive cultivation of insight. This progress relates to the four distortions of perception (vipallāsa). These are the mistaken attributions of permanence, happiness, selfhood, and beauty to what in reality is otherwise (AN 4.49; Anālayo 2003: 25).

Contemplation of the anatomical parts undermines the mistaken projection of beauty onto the physical body. Practising with the elements deconstructs the erroneous assumption of a substantial self to be found anywhere in the body. This finds its complement in insight into the empty nature of the mind through the present exercise. Giving attention to our own mortality brings out the cutting edge of impermanence and thereby undermines the misleading assumption of any permanence in embodied existence. This also finds its complement in the present contemplation of mind, which makes it clear that the whole mental domain is also devoid of anything permanent. Contemplation of feeling brings out the true nature of felt experience. This directly counters the misguided attribution of happiness to what in truth and fact cannot yield lasting happiness: the pursuit of sensuality through the body. It does so by revealing a more promising arena for our innate quest for happiness: cultivating the mind in such a way that it becomes a source of wholesome joy and happiness.

A basic theme of the present satipaṭṭhāna is the importance of the mind regarding anything that happens. As the first verse in the Dhammapada proclaims, mind is the forerunner of dharmas (Dhp 1; Anālayo 2013: 145f). This role of the mind as the forerunner makes it all the more important that mindful monitoring of our mental condition be firmly established. The insight gained in this way leads to becoming increasingly adept at dwelling independently without clinging to anything.

SUMMARY

The main thrust of contemplation of the mind is towards an accurate reflection of the condition of our own mind, comparable to looking into a mirror. Instead of directing all attention to what happens outside, we learn to keep an eye on what happens within. Here the perhaps most important condition of the mind to be recognized and fostered is the presence of mindfulness. Such establishing of sati alerts us to the presence or absence of lust, anger, and delusion in the mind; it also enables our monitoring of deeper levels of concentration and insight. Ongoing practice reveals the impermanent nature of all mental events, including the quality of knowing itself.