The distinction between Vipassana meditation and other styles of meditation is crucial and needs to be fully understood. Buddhism addresses two major types of meditation. They are different mental skills, modes of functioning or qualities of consciousness. In Pali, the original language of Theravada literature, they are called Vipassana and Samatha.

Vipassana can be translated as “Insight,” a clear awareness of exactly what is happening as it happens. Samatha can be translated as “concentration” or “tranquility.” It is a state in which the mind is brought to rest, focused only on one item and not allowed to wander. When this is done, a deep calm pervades body and mind, a state of tranquility which must be experienced to be understood.

Most systems of meditation emphasize the Samatha component. The meditator focuses his mind upon some items, such as prayer, a certain type of box, a chant, a candle flame, a religious image or whatever, and excludes all other thoughts and perceptions from his consciousness. The result is a state of rapture which lasts until the meditator ends the session of sitting. It is beautiful, delightful, meaningful and alluring, but only temporary. Vipassana meditation addresses the other component, insight.

In Vipassana mediation, the meditator uses his concentration as a tool by which his awareness can chip away at the wall of illusion that cuts him off from the living light of reality. It is a gradual process of ever-increasing awareness into the inner workings of reality itself. It takes years, but one day the meditator chisels through that wall and tumbles into the presence of light. The transformation is complete. It’s called Liberation, and it’s permanent. Liberation is the goal of all Buddhist systems of practice. But the routes to the attainment of that end are quite diverse.

The Oldest Buddhist Meditation Practice

Vipassana is the oldest of Buddhist meditation practices. The method comes directly from the Satipatthana Sutta [Foundations of Mindfulness], a discourse attributed to the Buddha himself. Vipassana is a direct and gradual cultivation of mindfulness or awareness. It proceeds piece by piece over a period of years. The student’s attention is carefully directed to an intense examination of certain aspects of his own existence. The meditator is trained to notice more and more of his own flowing life experience.

Vipassana is a gentle technique. But it also is very, very thorough. It is an ancient and codified system of training your mind, a set of exercises dedicated to becoming more and more aware of your own life experience. It is attentive listening, mindful seeing and careful testing.

We learn to smell acutely, to touch fully, and to really pay attention to the changes taking place in all these experiences. We learn to listen to our own thoughts without being caught up in them. The object of Vipassana meditation practice is to learn to see the truth of impermanence, unsatisfactoriness, and selflessness of phenomena.

We think we are doing this already, but that is an illusion. It comes from the fact that we are paying so little attention to the ongoing surge of our own life experience that we might just as well be asleep. We are simply not paying enough attention to notice that we are not paying attention. It is another Catch-22.

Meditation as Discovery

Through the process of mindfulness, we slowly become aware of what we really are down below the ego image. We wake up to what life really is. It is not just a parade of ups and downs, lollipops and smacks on the wrist. That is an illusion. Life has a much deeper texture than that if we bother to look, and if we look in the right way.

Vipassana is a form of mental training that will teach you to experience the world in an entirely new way. You will learn for the first time what is truly happening to you, around you and within you. It is a process of self-discovery, a participatory investigation in which you observe your own experiences while participating in them as they occur.

“Never mind what I have been taught. Forget about theories and prejudices and stereotypes.”

The practice must be approached with this attitude: “Never mind what I have been taught. Forget about theories and prejudices and stereotypes. I want to understand the true nature of life. I want to know what this experience of being alive really is. I want to apprehend the true and deepest qualities of life, and I don’t want to just accept somebody else’s explanation. I want to see it for myself.”

If you pursue your meditation practice with this attitude, you will succeed. You’ll find yourself observing things objectively, exactly as they are-flowing and changing from moment to moment. Life then takes on an unbelievable richness which cannot be described. It has to be experienced.

Vipassana & Bhavana

The Pali term for Insight meditation is Vipassana Bhavana. Bhavana comes from the root bh, which means to grow or to become. Therefore Bhavana means to cultivate, and the word is always used in reference to the mind. Bhavana means mental cultivation. Vipassana is derived from two roots. Passana means seeing or perceiving. Vi is a prefix with a complex set of connotations. The basic meaning is “in a special way.” But there also is the connotation of both “into” and “through.”

The whole meaning of the word is looking into something with clarity and precision, seeing each component as distinct, and piercing all the way through so as to perceive the most fundamental reality of that thing. This process leads to insight into the basic reality of whatever is being inspected. Put it all together and Vipassana Bhavana means the cultivation of the mind, aimed at seeing in the special way that leads to insight and to full understanding.

Related: Theravada Vipassana Practice

The method we are explaining here 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.

Why focusing is important

The first question we might have 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 that 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.

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.

Taming Wild Elephants

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 have got a tamed elephant that can be put to useful work.

Related: Breathing

In this analogy the wild elephant is your wildly active mind, the rope is mindfulness, and the post is our object of meditation, our 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.

Why Breathing?

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. It is 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 a miniature model of life itself.

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.

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 and point just inside the nose or on the upper tip 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.

Not Always Easy

When you first begin this procedure, expect to face some difficulties. Your mind will wander off constantly darting, around like a bumble bee and zooming off on wild tangents. Try not to worry. The monkey mind 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 note 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, and again, and again.

Essentially, Vipassana 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 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 totalIy 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.

♦

Learn more about Vipassana here in Buddhism for Beginners.

Read how colonialism sparked the Vipassana movement in the feature article “Meditation en Masse.”

The post What Exactly Is Vipassana Meditation? appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

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, our 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 a 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 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.

Related: The Seal of Sila 

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 looking ahead to the future, full of worries and plans. The breath has some 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 insights 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 would 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 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 result is a forced and unnatural effort that actually inhibits concentration rather than helping it. Don’t increase the depth of your breathing 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 a 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 phenomena 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 bumble bee and zooming off on wild tangents. Try not to worry. The monkey mind phenomena 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 note 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, and 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 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 sign 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.

Related: Two Breathing Exercises to Steady the Mind Before Meditation 

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.

When you find you have fallen into the 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.

Don’t set goals for yourself that are too high to reach. Be gentle 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 with 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.

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 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.

♦

Excerpted from Mindfulness in Plain English, reprinted with permission from Wisdom Publications.

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If your mind wanders here and there, you must be more mindful. In Pali this is called yoniso manasikara, which can be translated into English as “attend to the root.” You must always learn to go to the root (yoni). The Buddha gave a meaningful simile regarding this starting place for all that is. If you threw a stick or rock, a dog would likely run after it. That dog would either bite it or bring it back to you. A lion would not run after the stick or the rock. He or she would run after you instead! The lion goes to the root, while the dog runs away from it. Unmindful people go after sensory objects and get bewildered. Those who are mindful, on the other hand, want to find the root of the entire process.

♦

From Impermanence in Plain English by Bhante Gunaratana and Julia Harris (Wisdom, 2023). Reprinted with permission.

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In the Khirarukkhopama, or “The Milk Tree,” sutra in the Samyuatta Nikaya, the Buddha talks of a milk tree. For those who have seen rubber trees and papaya trees, these are milk trees. When you take a knife and cut any place on the trunk, you get milk.

Similarly, what you put in will come out. This [Bhante gestures to himself] is my milk tree. The top of the milk tree is here [gestures to head]. If you put greed in here, greed comes out. With our eyes we bring greed in, and so greed increases and increases. Anytime you grasp at something, greed comes out. Similarly, when I put hatred in here, hatred comes out.

So, here we find the secret: clinging. As long as we cling to things, we can never escape this endless round of samsara, this wheel of existence. We die and leave the causes for our next life.

“At Every Moment We Die”

But let us look more closely. What do you see in these five aggregates—form, feeling, perception, thought and consciousness—if you follow the dharma path? You see impermanence and the inevitability of death. Once you are born and live a number of years, then our life finishes. That’s all we know about death. We are born and after a certain period of time, conventionally, we die.

But one who follows the dharma path sees another death: the truth that at every moment we die. That is why Buddha said: “Whenever somebody sees with wisdom rising and falling, rising and falling, that knowledge, that awareness itself, is immortal.” 

Every moment comes to a peak and passes away: uppada, thiti, bhanga. That is to say there is the rising moment, the peak moment, and the passing moment. We live only one moment—that peak moment—yet it, too, constantly passes away.

Think about the wheel of your car moving down the highway. The wheel touches the road only a tiny little fraction of a moment, and then the next moment, the next moment, and the next moment after that. Life is like that. Literally, every moment we are born, every moment we die. 

The same is true of these five aggregates of form, feeling, perception, thought, and consciousness. Every fraction of a second, these aggregates change. Every fraction of a second, oxygen must nourish our cells. We are made of trillions of cells, and every one needs oxygen. If we are deprived of oxygen for even a short period of time, we die. And so this constant change goes on and on. Perception, volition, consciousness—all are changing, so quickly. Seeing the five aggregates in this way is the dharma path.  

Seeing impermanence is the dharma path. 

“The Path Is Right Here”

I hear all the time that if you see the Buddha, you attain nirvana. But you can never do that. Instead, I say: “You attain nirvana, and then you see the Buddha.” 

How is that?

This is what the Buddha said to the Venerable Vakkali, who became a monk just to see the Buddha. One day, Vakkali was very sick in bed. He could not get up. Buddha came to visit him. Then, Ven. Vakkali cried. Buddha asked, “Vakkali, why do you cry? Have you any remorse and regret?” 

“No, venerable sir,  my conscience is very clear. But I’m sorry, venerable sir, that I cannot go and see you. My eyes ache when I don’t see you.” 

Then Buddha said: “Vakkali, what is the use of this decaying, dying body, the body that gets old, that dies, filled with impurities, like a milk tree?”

Buddha’s body, after all, was just like our body. He had aches and pains, too. And inside his body there was nothing beautiful or sweet-smelling. It is not the body that attains enlightenment, but the mind. 

So, Buddha said, “What is the use of seeing this body? You see dharma, Vakkali? If you see dharma, you see nirvana. Attain nirvana and then you see the Buddha.”

The path is right here. Not over there, not up there, not above the clouds. Here. 

That is the secret we have to find. Each and every one of us. 

The Ocean

Buddha spoke of “this ocean” we face. His disciples asked what he meant by “ocean.” He replied that the outside ocean is just a great expanse of water. But the real ocean is right here: the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

Why is that? Consider the amount of things you have seen and are seeing now. How many trillion things have you seen in your life? An ocean of things! What about the ocean of  sounds you have heard?  Human sounds, animal sounds, music sounds, scolding sounds, shouting sounds. So many sounds! How many things have you smelled already? An ocean of things. How many things have we tasted? So many types of taste! That’s an ocean. How many things have we touched? That’s an ocean. How many things have we already thought? How many moments of consciousness have we had? All oceans!

One who crosses these many oceans encounters crocodiles, sharks, demons, and so forth. What do these hazardous creatures signify? So many millions of problems caused by greed, hatred, and delusion. These oceans are teeming with them. Yet if one mindfully moves across this ocean in a raft or boat, without sinking, without capsizing, avoiding all these dangers, that is the one who ends karma. That is the one who attains nirvana. 

And that is the one who then sees the Buddha. Therefore, we try to see the Buddha in the way the Buddha asked Ven. Vakkali to see him. We try to see the Buddha in us through the dharma.

♦

This article is an excerpt adapted from remarks Bhante Gunaratana delivered at the Bhavana Society’s Kathina Robe Offering ceremony Oct. 24, 2021, at the Bhavana Society a Theravada Buddhist forest monastery and retreat center in High View, WV. Bhante G, as he is known worldwide, is founder and abbot. He turned 94 in December and remains in good health. See the full talk here.

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Bhante Gunaratana, known worldwide as “Bhante G,” has written a number of books, including the now-classic meditation manual Mindfulness In Plain English, which has been translated into more than two dozen languages, and its companion, Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness. He regularly leads retreats on meditation, mindfulness, concentration, and other topics at the Bhavana Society and around the world.

With the onset of COVID-19 in 2020, the Bhavana Society suspended in-person retreats. In March of that year, Bhante G began to lead guided meditations on Zoom, followed by in-depth talks on Buddhist teachings. The hour-long sessions attract a worldwide audience.

Douglas John Imbrogno: You’ve been doing guided meditations and dharma talks on Zoom for much of the pandemic. How has that gone and what feedback have you been getting?

Bhante G: I believe several thousand people have attended the Zoom Dhamma talks since we started them in March 2020. Every day when we begin, we can hear a cacophony of people desiring to say hello, and the same at the end, with many thanks expressed. Through telephone calls and emails, people send their feedback, thanking me. I think that in a way, we must say that this is a blessing in disguise.

Although millions of people have died all over the world, there are some who have taken this as an opportunity to listen to the dharma…We have given them the message of peace that the Buddha taught. The Buddha said dharma is the best medicine. He spoke of the benefit of “hearing and teaching the dharma at the right time.” That is exactly what we have been offering those who come to the Zoom sessions.

Many people around the world are wrestling with sickness, loneliness, and depression. There was one case of a husband and wife living together alone and the husband died from COVID-19. The wife was struck with what the Buddha described as life’s experiences of grief, depression, sorrow, lamentation, and despair. Listening to the dharma helped her to recover her bearings. The dharma was the right thing to hear at the right time. Of course, there have been many others teaching the dharma during these difficult times.

For people who have long been interested in starting a meditation practice, but who have never quite been able to get one going (or who have tried but let a meditation practice lapse) what might be a key piece of encouragement from you? What will a person gain by buckling down and adding meditation and mindfulness practice to their life?

Bhante G: My very strong advice is that people understand that they are not going to live forever. We are all born with a one-way ticket. We’re all marching, marching, marching onwards, towards the end of our journey. We have been enjoying our life materially, doing all kinds of things to make us happy. If you stop all of them and ask yourself, “Am I happy?” the answer will be “not yet.” Then, you will go on thinking again about all the other things you have done and ask the same question—and the answer will still be “not yet.”  No matter how many times you ask this question, the answer will always be “not yet.”  Something is always missing. 

So, when you meditate, you fill your life with understanding of this reality. Understanding the reality is the only thing that makes your life fulfilled. 

If the mind is clean and pure, when we think, speak, and act, the results will follow us like our own shadow. You never feel your shadow, it is so light and close. And you are getting close to enlightenment. Now, what does this mean? It means brightness and releasing burdens. You are very relaxed, calm, peaceful, and happy. Many people do everything to make themselves happy except the right thing. 

What is the right thing? One must introspectively look at one’s own mind. And we cannot see the mind until we remove all other sensory stimuli. We withdraw from stimuli temporarily and look at the mind, the very instrument that can make us happy or unhappy. 

You can be friendly with everybody, no matter who the person is, when you meditate, and your mind is calm. When you have no animosity, resentment, or jealousy towards anybody, then you will see how comfortable, how peaceful you are, because you see the reality. And then you see that the reality you see within yourself is also the reality within others.

People often say “I just can’t meditate!” Or think they have to somehow instantly shut off their brain and force the mind to be quiet—and they find that impossible. What would you say to the reasons people give for feeling they can’t meditate?

Bhante G: People often say they cannot meditate because they don’t know what meditation is.  Sitting in one place and focusing the mind on the breath is not the whole of meditation… Meditation is training the mind to be free from psychic irritants. I’d like to advise people: The breath is the most effective subject of meditation and is available to every person at every moment.

For instance, you are in the middle of a very difficult situation, maybe an altercation with a co-worker or a quarrel with a family member. In the middle of all of these difficult situations, you feel like you are going to go crazy because you cannot handle them. So, with all these things going on, you take a pause, and focus the mind on the breath. Even one minute will produce relief. 

Suppose you are in the office or whatever you are doing (except driving!), you stop, close your eyes and focus your mind exclusively on the breath, without thinking about the future or the past. You can inhale and exhale. Count to one, inhale and exhale. Count two, inhale and exhale. And you focus like this up to ten. Then, do the same thing back down to one. Then again, climb up to nine and back to one. Then up to eight and back to one. And so on, until you get to one and inhale and exhale. 

Another way is to stop what you were doing, focus your mind on the breath, take 20 inhalations and exhalations. At the end, you will feel very relaxed. Why? Because the nervous tension you build up will be released.

So, try this, every hour on the hour. You can even set a reminder on your phone, watch, or computer. This practice will give you a calming, peaceful, relaxed state of mind.  If you work eight hours a day and you practice this eight times, that will be eight minutes of meditation added to your day.

Also, make it your habit to practice in the morning when the mind and body are fresh. Since modern life is very busy, at least spend 30 minutes in the morning and evening, and one minute every hour, on the hour, throughout the day. So, do this earnestly in order to keep up a daily meditation practice and the result will be a happier, more peaceful mind.

How do you advise people to increase their mindful awareness in daily life? How do we become more aware of the body and breath when we are off the cushion?

Bhante G: Mindful awareness in daily life is when you are engaged in any activity. Every day we do three things—think, speak, and act. In other words, we experience thoughts, words, and deeds. When we are engaged in these three activities, greed can arise, hatred can arise, confusion can arise. Jealousy, fear, tension, worry, anxiety, and all the other painful emotions can all arise. When they arise, we have to be mindful to take care of them. We have to pay attention to our mind. 

When we think, speak, and act, we have to look at our mind. And when we see that we’re thinking, speaking, or acting with these defilements in our mind, then we must tell ourselves, this is no good—I must let them go. 

Letting them go is a very beneficial thing. There are two Pali words, assada and nissarana. The first one means “nourishing” or “entertaining.” Entertaining these negative emotions always leads to dangerous states of mind. Greed leads to clinging, craving, and other harmful emotions. Nissarana means abandoning and it comes with benefits. Assada has danger; nissarana has benefit. So, when we mindfully look at our mind, we should ask ourselves, “Am I building up my dangerous side? Or am I building up my beneficial side?”

We must understand the difference between carefulness and mindfulness. The difference is that whereas anybody who pays attention to what a person is doing can be careful, mindfulness is much deeper than that. Mindfulness requires deeper attention to one’s own mind. Careful is external-facing, while mindfulness is inward, introspective, looking at one’s own mind with quality attention. 

You spend every January and February in solitary retreat. What is that like and what are your days like? Also, having just turned 93 years old, what is life like for you now? How do you view one’s inevitable passing?

Bhante G: During my annual seclusion period, I meditate at least two hours in the morning after I wake up. Then, after breakfast, I do a walking meditation in the meditation hall. Then, after lunch, again I walk outside for one-and-a-half hours. Then, I meditate for two to two-and-a-half hours until 5 or 5:30 p.m., when I take my evening medicine with my evening drink. After that, I meditate until I go to bed. Altogether, I’m meditating for six to seven hours, including sitting and walking meditation. Even when I’m in bed, I’m meditating until the moment I fall asleep… I deepen my understanding of impermanence, moment by moment, day by day.

What I’ve learned is that my entire life I’ve lived so far has been a dream. In this dream, I have heard so many things, seen so many things, thought so many things, felt so many things, etc. All of these are gone. Not a trace left. And I see that happening even now.

When I meditate, everything is arising and passing—it never stays for even a nanosecond! And so many things meet in this body. The physical body parts, certain energies or forces, such as earth, heat, water, air. We cannot see these, but the forces are there… always in a state of flux—moving, moving, moving. Form, thought, feeling, perception, consciousness, are all arising and passing away. Even upon reciting a syllable in the English language, or a snap of our fingers, in that very short time, all of these elements and aggregates are changing so rapidly. And these are all interdependent. So, when one changes, of course, the others change too, simultaneously.

During vipassana meditation, we can see these yin and yang forces working together. When we interfere with words, concepts, and the like, we will block our awareness of reality. This is why it is important to make opportunities for what some Buddhists call “noble silence” at times in our lives. When we’re chatting and listening away, we can miss the boat. The more I meditate, the deeper my awareness goes into this understanding, and I can stay in this positional awareness for two hours easily. Unfortunately, however, nature, hunger, and pain call me out of this state.

When I meditate and I’m in that state that I explained earlier, I feel how wonderful it would be if I died now! No pain, no remorse, no greed, no hatred, no confusion. The mind is very pure and clean. I can see how death is taking place. Of course, I wouldn’t be there to tell the story!

At 93, I am pretty aware of the decay of this body. I cannot eat like I used to. I cannot walk like I used to. I cannot talk like I used to, or see, hear, and so on and so forth. Even getting up from my seat is difficult now because my body seems heavier due to the deterioration of bones, muscles, etc. I can’t even hold my breath like I used to. My throat is always dry such that I have to drink water all day and eat very slowly. I want to walk fast, but my body won’t allow me.  I can’t drink cold water or eat spicy food. Very quickly, I can catch a cold or pneumonia.

So, I’m quite aware of all of this happening to the body. However, my hearing and vision are still functioning well. My mind is still quite good. My memory is still quite good. I’m more aware of the dharma and I see the teachings in this mind and body… I can meditate on impermanence as an experience, rather than as a theory. Impermanence is here and now, past and future. Therefore, 93 is a very powerful, insightful, time in my life, because I have brought all these loose ends together and I am icing the cake.

And I’m very happy that I became a monk, that I started Bhavana Society, to spend the last part of my life in meditation. That is the best thing that I have done in my life. I have done many, many, many good things, but this is the best. And not only that, but this place is open to many thousands of people who have come and will come to meditate.

I want to continue teaching meditation until I cannot talk anymore and practicing until this body dies. So, 93 is the blossom of my life, a great blessing. I think if we don’t learn from our life and just die, we are utter fools. We must learn from our life. What we learn from our lives, we cannot teach others, because life is an experience, and we cannot teach an experience.

♦

This interview has been edited for length and clarity. See WestVirginiaVille.com for the full interview.

The post Bhante Gunaratana on Guiding Meditations via Zoom, Daily Mindfulness, and Facing Death appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

We don’t need an ideal society or a perfect world to practice loving-friendliness. We aren’t practicing to save the world or make it perfect. We practice for ourselves, for our own peace and well-being. Any effects beyond that are byproducts. If the focus is outside ourselves, we will never succeed. But fortunately, our own well-being is intimately bound up with the well-being of others; so truly practicing metta  (loving-friendliness) for our own benefit does benefit others.

In the Discourse on the Benefits of Loving-Friendliness (Metta Nisamsa Sutta), the Buddha lists 11 benefits derived from practicing metta—and I might add that many of these benefits are being confirmed by contemporary scientific research!

Here is the Buddha’s list:

1. You sleep well.
When you go to bed feeling loving-friendliness toward yourself and others, you will be relaxed and will sleep peacefully.

2. You wake up feeling well.
When you get a good night’s sleep, you wake up feeling rested and relaxed. With a relaxed mind and body, you are able to connect with family, friends, relatives, neighbors, and even strangers in a genuine and centered way. You feel fresh, uplifted, and joyful all day.

3. You’re not likely to have nightmares.
When you practice metta, you become solid enough to face whatever arises. And in fact, the Buddha said it’s unlikely you’ll have nightmares when you practice metta.

4. Your body relaxes and your face is joyful.
Your body reflects your mind. When you feel love for all beings, it shows on your face. Seeing your honest, relaxed face, others will gravitate toward you and enjoy being around you.

5. Even animals and celestial beings feel drawn to you.
When you practice metta, your mind generates a peaceful field around you. Children especially are tuned in to this energy—and non-humans feel it too!

One day I was walking my dog, Brown, and a couple came toward us. The woman kneeled down to Brown’s level and talked to him.

He wagged his tail and became affectionate with her. The man was frightened, and Brown growled at him.

6. Spirits protect you.
There are times we feel guided and protected by beings beyond our sight. Recognizing this as a kind of grace is a source of serenity. Whether it’s literally true or there is some other energy that gives us this sense of guidance and protection, the Buddha included this among the benefits of practicing metta.

7. Fire, poisons, and weapons will not harm you.
When we read stories of old, many of the elements are symbolic or mythic. The Buddha shared tales of adepts who practiced metta and were protected from fire, poisons, and weapons. He explained that greed, hatred, and delusion are the fires, the poisons, and the weapons against which metta protects us.

In the Fire Sermon (Aditta Pariyaya Sutta), the Buddha said that poison is of three kinds—greed, hatred, and delusion. These weapons, like daggers, he said, can cut your peace into pieces. In the Numerical Discourses of the Buddha, the Buddha described bodily, verbal, and mental weapons. In the Udana, he said, “They quarrel, squabble, and argue with each other, stabbing each other with verbal daggers: ‘This is dharma. That is not.’” In the Dhammapada, the Buddha said, “There is no fire like greed, no misfortune like hatred, no suffering like delusion, and no greater happiness than peace.”

In a well-known story about the power of metta, Uttara, a devoted follower of the Buddha, was bereft. She had been given in marriage to a man who did not have high regard for the Buddha, and so she hadn’t seen the Buddha or his disciples for two and a half months. She was feeling forlorn, and her father suggested she hire a courtesan to serve her husband while she joined the Buddha and his community for the final two weeks of their rainy-season retreat. Uttara agreed and was able to serve the Buddha and his disciples as a cook and attend his teachings.

One day as he was looking out the window of his mansion, Uttara’s husband saw her working in the retreat kitchen wearing a stained apron and thought it pathetic she was attending the retreat rather than indulging in the luxuries of life with him. Noticing his disdain for his wife, Sirima, the courtesan, began plotting to harm Uttara so she herself could become the man’s wife. Sirima boiled some ghee and left the house to splash it on Uttara.

When Uttara saw the courtesan coming to harm her, she meditated on loving-friendliness and remained completely at peace.

At the same time, Uttara’s maidservants also saw this foul deed unfolding and ran to stop Sirima. The maids tackled Sirima and began to pummel her but Uttara intervened to save her attacker.

After that, Uttara bathed Sirima in warm water and massaged her body with herbs and oil to soothe her wounds. Sirima fell to the ground and begged Uttara’s forgiveness. Uttara said she would forgive Sirima if the Buddha advised it.

The next day, Sirima asked the Buddha to forgive what she had tried to do. The Buddha asked Uttara how she felt as Sirima was pouring boiling ghee on her, and Uttara responded, “I was grateful to Sirima for serving my husband so I could spend two weeks with the noble community. I had no ill will toward her, only loving-friendliness.” The Buddha commended her, “Well done, Uttara. By not bearing ill will, you were able to conquer the one who abuses you. By being generous, you conquered the one who is stingy. By speaking the truth, you conquered one who lies.” Upon the advice of the Buddha, Uttara forgave Sirima, and Sirima took refuge in the Buddha.

In another story, the Buddha told of Culasiva Thera, who was not at all affected by poison because of his profound practice of metta. A Dhammapada commentary tells of four novice monks whose practice of loving-friendliness was so profound they were unaffected by a weapon. Not only were disciples of the Buddha protected by metta, but in one story a cow was spared being shot with an arrow because of her love and affection nursing her calf.

The Buddha taught that the six senses—seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, and cognizing—are on fire. Any one of them is sufficient to consume us. The antidote, he taught, is to know reality.

Be mindful and see how sensations and states affect you. Think of your own experience; see how much you burn with the fire of greed, hatred, and delusion, and how much you poison your mind with greed, hatred, and delusion. When you practice metta, your breathing becomes calm and you feel so much love and compassion that your mind naturally wishes all beings to live in peace and harmony.

8. Your mind immediately becomes calm.
Metta stimulates a friendly feeling that makes us calm and happy. It truly is a wonderful way of life!

9. Your complexion brightens.
Metta shows in your face. As you practice metta, joy arises. At first it is barely noticeable, but as the joy increases, it begins to pervade your whole mind and body. Metta does not rely on any particular time, place, or condition. Once aroused, it can remain present in you the rest of your life. Your face cannot hide what is going on in your mind. When you are angry, it shows on your face. When you are peaceful, everyone notices. The energy of metta spreads through your bloodstream and nourishes your whole being. You look bright and clear, calm and peaceful.

10. You’ll die with a clear mind.
The thought of dying peacefully can be comforting. When we have unresolved conflicts, death can be difficult. Loving-friendliness can make dying easier for the one passing away and for those around her.

There is a difference between true peace and the appearance of peace. You may seem cheerful; you might even make people laugh. But when you are approaching death, if greed, hatred, and delusion are still lurking deep down in your psyche, that joviality will vanish. Practicing loving-friendliness sinks into the depths of your consciousness and makes your mind genuinely calm. With metta, you will die peacefully, without confusion.

In the Anguttara Nikaya, Samavati, the wife of the king the Buddha had declared chief among those who practiced metta, was burned alive while leading a loving-friendliness retreat for women. Magandiya was the culprit. So proud of her rare beauty, Magandiya rejected suitor after suitor. One day her father saw the Buddha sitting under a tree and asked him to marry his daughter. The Buddha explained his vow of celibacy and declined in a way that Magandiya found offensive, and she was determined to seek revenge. Magandiya knew that Samavati was one of the Buddha’s favorite laywomen, so she set fire to the house where Samavati was leading a metta retreat for 500 women. They all died in the fire.

As she lay dying, Samavati declared, “Over many lifetimes our bodies have been burned over and over again. As you pass from birth to death and back to birth, be heedful!” Her words were so powerful that the 500 women dying alongside her were inspired to practice metta meditation in their final moments. Although their bodies were burned by fire, their minds were free.

11. You’ll die in peace.
If at the time of death you do not yet comprehend the highest truth, you will still go to a realm of great peace.

If you have not completed the path of awakening before you die, the peaceful mental state generated by metta will still allow you to be reborn in a heavenly realm.

Regardless of whether we consider heaven a real or figurative place, this portends well and encourages us to practice loving-friendliness while we can.

♦

From Loving-Kindness in Plain English: The Practice of Metta, by Bhante Gunaratana (2017). Reprinted by arrangement with Wisdom Publications, Inc., wisdompubs.org

[This story was originally published in 2017]

The post 11 Benefits of Loving-Friendliness Meditation appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

As a practice that trains the mind to become gentle and considerate, metta is a powerful method to dissolve our habits of thinking about, speaking to, and treating others with ill will.

In the Discourse on Repression of Ill Will (Aghata Vinaya Sutta), Sariputta, one of the Buddha’s leading disciples, offers five practices for overcoming ill will and practicing loving-friendliness. These examples show us simple ways to think about complex, difficult situations. When we are with others, as our metta is sprouting in our hearts, we may face situations that challenge us. We know that we need to overcome whatever ill will remains in our minds toward others, but we are tempted to fall into old patterns of judging and distancing ourselves from them. These practices offer a different way of interacting with people who anger us.

The Dirty Rag

We may come across people whose words are kind, but whose bodily behavior is not. They make promises they can’t keep and act evasively, or say nice things to us but act poorly. We can consider behaving toward them like the monk who, while walking down the road, comes across a dirty rag. The rag is so filthy he can’t even pick it up with his hands, so he holds it with one foot while he kicks it with the other foot to clean it off. Then he picks it up with two fingers, shakes it off, brings it home, and washes it. He sees that this once-dirty rag is in fact completely functional and he sews it onto his patchwork robes!

When we encounter people whose deeds are not good but whose words are pleasant, we can search for ways to arouse loving­-friendliness within ourselves. We can certainly find one reason or another to do so—we can grasp onto their kind words in the same way the monk saw the value of the cloth obscured by dirt. We admire and respect these people for their words and arouse our own loving-friendliness to share with them. If we are able to associate with them and show them loving-friendliness, it might encourage them to change their way of acting. But we do not pay attention to their actions. Focusing on and encouraging others’ positive words gives their kindness room to blossom naturally. Additionally, when we learn to practice compassion and equanimity toward people in this way, our own thoughts of ill will toward them are subdued.

Keep in mind that the layers of conditioning on a person have made them difficult to handle, just like the layers of dirt on the cloth. Perhaps they have faced hardship unknown to us—such as losing a friend or family member, home, or job. Maybe they were mistreated or abused as a child and this contributed to their thinking that rough behavior is a normal part of life. What matters for us is that we see that someone is suffering. We can offer them our loving-friendliness.

The Algae-Covered Pond

Next, consider how you become angry with a person whose speech is unkind but whose actions are respectful. For example, someone disparages you for doing a task incorrectly but then does the task for you so that you can learn from them. Sariputta compares this type of person to a pond covered with algae. Say that there is a pond nearby on a hot day when you are very thirsty. You are sweaty and feeling exhausted, and a cool dip would feel so refreshing. But the pond is covered with algae, so how do you dive in? First you must clear the algae away with both hands.

Similarly, you can overlook this person’s challenges and recognize that their heart opens to compassion and loving-friendliness from time to time. On this basis, you develop loving-friendliness toward that person. The ill will you may have felt toward them diminishes on its own.

The Hoofprint Puddle

The third type of person speaks both unwholesome words and does unwholesome deeds, but from time to time their heart opens to noble, friendly, and compassionate things. Sariputta suggests that such a person can be compared to a puddle on the road.

Suppose you are walking along a road and there is no water or well. You are thirsty and tired, desperately looking for water. Almost dehydrated, you find a little rainwater that has collected in the hoofprint of a cow in the middle of the road. There’s very little water, and if you try to scoop it up by hand, you’ll make it muddy. What to do? You kneel down and slowly bring your mouth to that bit of water and sip it without disturbing the mud, thus quenching your thirst.

From time to time, even with their bad words and deeds, you’ll find that this person’s heart opens to loving-friendliness, compassion, appreciative joy, and equanimity. When you recognize a moment when their heart is open, take advantage of it—enter quickly. Say some loving words to keep their heart open. Speak kindly, showing metta in your tone and words. This is a wonderful opportunity to share with someone the benefit of metta. By patiently practicing loving-friendliness toward this person, despite all their weaknesses, you can produce a miracle. Others might give up and over time get tired and burn out. They might blame metta, saying it doesn’t work; while it is a normal reaction to blame something that doesn’t work, look closely. If you do something haphazardly and fail, don’t blame the system. Find out what could be done differently and make the necessary adjustments.

Similarly, you can find a way even with this kind of person to cultivate loving-friendliness. Use whatever possible opening you can get to overcome your feelings of ill will, just as you would sip the water in the cow’s hoofprint.

The Sick Traveler

The fourth type of person you may feel ill will toward has no visible redeeming qualities: their words are negative, their behavior is bad, and their heart does not open at all for anything noble.

Coming across such a person is like finding a patient, a sick man, walking alone on a road where there is no hospital, no village, and no other humans around. There is no water, no house to rest in, not a single tree to provide him shelter. This person is afflicted and suffering from severe sickness. He needs immediate medical attention—otherwise he will die. You see him and feel very sorry for him. Your heart melts. You think, “How can I help this man? He needs water, medicine, food, and clothes. He needs somebody to help him.” When your heart responds with empathy, you find a way to help this person. Listen to that voice that wants to help him, and let that spark of kindness grow. Then you will volunteer to help that person in spite of any difficulty.

Similarly, when people are completely negative in thought, word, and deed, we can practice metta. Although we might normally react to them with anger, still we need to find a reason to develop thoughts of loving-friendliness and compassion toward them. Then we become like the sick person’s medicine.

One who practices metta should think about how this person’s unwholesome behavior creates so much suffering for himself, both now and in the future. If this man gives up his bad behavior and cultivates wholesome bodily and verbal behavior, he could find peace and happiness in this life. He could enjoy things available to him without grumbling. He could have many friends and live a happy and healthy life. So instead, think: “I should help him to get rid of his hatred; if I do, I will be glad for the rest of my life thinking that I have done something wonderful.” Rather than being angry with such a person, let your heart open to him to see how much he suffers by acting in such a harmful way.

The Clear Lake

The fifth person’s words and behavior are sweet, and their heart is open for noble practices.

This person can be likened to a clear, calm lake. The water is sweet and cool, and the pool is surrounded by soft grass and shade trees. If someone comes along tired and overheated, taking a dip in this lake is most refreshing. In a similar way, this person’s thoughts are sweet and wonderful, and their words are beautiful and friendly. Their deeds are friendly, beautiful, and pure. Everything is ideal. It is easy for us to cultivate loving-friendliness toward that person. If you are unable to calm the anger you may feel toward such a person, reflect on their good qualities without harboring any jealousy. Know that it is possible for you as well to become like a clear lake in your thoughts, words, and deeds.

Consider the ways in which you can try to cultivate loving-friendliness equally toward all these five types of people without discrimination. Of course, you may find that it is not very easy—that there are times when you want to give in to ill will. Stretching our capacity for loving-friendliness sometimes requires that we make a great sacrifice—but what we sacrifice are our comfort, thoughts, feelings, and attitudes. In other words, we sacrifice our old way of relating to the world. Remember that the purpose of developing metta for these people is to make yourself calm and peaceful. To make others comfortable, first make yourself comfortable with them. It is not very easy, but in time we may see it as worthwhile—even natural!

Patience, Mindfulness, and Metta Go Together

Another traditional story about Sariputta from the Dhammapada shows how metta helps us overcome ill will. One day when Venerable Sariputta was on his alms round, a brahmin and a few of the brahmin’s friends saw him in the distance. They discussed how noble and patient Sariputta was. This brahmin said that he wanted to test Sariputta’s patience, so he slowly went behind him and gave a very serious blow to Sariputta’s back. Venerable Sariputta continued his alms round without even turning back to see who had struck him.

The brahmin felt so guilty that he rushed in front of Sariputta and apologized. When Sariputta asked him why he was apologizing, the brahmin said that he had given him a strong blow. Sariputta forgave him and continued his alms round. Then feeling even more guilty, the brahmin said, “Sir, if you really forgive me, I would like you to come to my house and have your meal there.” Accepting his invitation, Sariputta went to his house and after the meal gave him a dharma talk.

Meanwhile the news spread around that a brahmin had struck Venerable Sariputta. Many people in the neighborhood gathered with clubs, sticks, and rocks to attack the brahmin. As soon as Sariputta finished his talk, he saw the people armed with all these weapons. Realizing what would happen to the brahmin, Sariputta used his mindfulness and compassion to help him. He gave his alms bowl to the brahmin and asked him to follow him. The angry people asked Sariputta to take his alms bowl back, yet he retorted, “Why?”

“Because we want to beat him up.”

“Why?”

“Because he attacked you.”

“I have forgiven him. You have not been attacked. So you all go home. This brahmin is a good man now.”

After this episode the monks assembled in the discussion hall and started talking about the incident. Then the Buddha asked them what the topic of their discussion was. When they reported the incident, the Buddha said:

One should not strike a brahmin
And a brahmin should not set anger loose.
Shame on the one who hits a brahmin
And greater shame on the one who sets anger loose.
For the brahmin, nothing is better
Than restraining the mind
From what it cherishes.
Whenever one turns away from the intent to harm,
Suffering is allayed.

We can learn from Sariputta’s example and from the Buddha’s teaching. Though it may be tempting to set anger loose, we may find that patience and loving-friendliness are essential for overcoming such emotions. If you find your patience tested, think of a person with only one eye—how his or her compassionate friends and relatives would do whatever they could to protect the one eye. Similarly, imagine there is a person who has great faith in practicing mindfulness but is always forgetful. Rather than getting angry, as a person practicing metta protect this person’s faith, just as a compassionate person does everything possible to protect the sight of the one-eyed friend. 

♦

From Loving-Kindness in Plain English: The Practice of Metta, by Bhante Gunaratana. To be published by Wisdom Publications in March 2017. Reprinted with permission of the publisher. wisdompubs.org.

The post Overcoming Ill Will appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

The Pali word sila (“discipline, restraint”) recalls the word “sealant” in English. When you want to close a crack, you use a sealant and seal it off. You lay the foundation for a house and cover all the cracks, so no water will seep in, no insects will enter, and the foundation won’t collapse. As a result, the foundation for your house remains firm and is sturdy enough to build upon. Sila is like that when it comes to meditation. It’s the foundation. Through restraint, through wholesome actions and decisions made in our daily lives, we lay this foundation.

If we don’t lay a good foundation for meditation, we can directly see the results in our practice. You may be meditating regularly, sitting a half hour or an hour. All of a sudden one day, you can’t even sit for ten minutes. Your mind is agitated, you’re constantly distracted, you simply can’t focus. Something you have done in your life—becoming enraged with someone, sexual misconduct, addictive behavior of all sorts or some other unwholesome action of body, speech, or mind—has deeply registered in your subconscious mind. It keeps coming back up, making you feel remorseful, guilty, restless, full of worries. You just can’t sit!

On the other hand, it’s unrealistic to expect people to become paragons of virtue before they ever begin to meditate. If we wait until we are saints, if we put off meditation until our sila is perfect, then we will never meditate! Whatever our moral situation, we must begin. We make the commitment to root out unwholesome behavior and to encourage wholesome habits in our lives. It helps to make the commitment and to come back to it, time and time again: “OK, from now on I’m going to undertake this meditation practice and I’m going to try not to break my principles.” If you do, then learn from those consequences. Feel the heaviness in your mind and in your life. Our goal is to make the mind light, to make our life light. After all, we are seeking to attain en-light-enment, aren’t we?

♦

From “Question: Morality, Concentration, Wisdom,” by Bhante Henepola Gunaratana. Reprinted with permission of the author. 

The post The Seal of Sila appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Distorted perceptions are like a mirage. Deceived by a mirage, a deer runs quickly toward what it perceives as water. As he runs, he sees that the water-like mirage is still far ahead of him. So he keeps running toward it to drink. When he is even more tired and thirsty, he stops and looks back. Then he sees that he has gone past the water. When he runs back, he perceives that the water is ahead of him. So he runs back and forth until he is exhausted and falls to the ground.

Distorted perception is like that for us. Pulled by our own attachments, we are always chasing phantoms. Terrified, we run away from monsters created from our own aversions. So long as perception is distorted, we are unable to see the true nature of what is in front of us—nothing but an ever-changing collection of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and thoughts or concepts. Moreover, nothing that we perceive has a self or soul; and nothing can bring us permanent happiness or unhappiness.

In essence, when perception is distorted, we perceive impermanence as permanence, suffering as happiness, something neither beautiful nor ugly as beautiful or ugly, or something not self as self.

♦

From Meditation on Perception: Ten Healing Practices to Cultivate, by Bhante Gunaratana. © 2014 Wisdom Publications. Reprinted with permission of the publisher. www.wisdompubs.org. 

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Desire is everywhere. Every living thing has the desire to stay alive. Even plants “strive” to propagate themselves. Craving is our creator. Our parents’ craving for each other and our craving for rebirth combined to create us. Even painful feelings give rise to craving. When a painful feeling arises, we do not like it. We wish to get rid of the pain, and we wish to enjoy some pleasure. Both wishes are craving.

The truth is, we don’t really want to be free from desire or to admit that clinging to the pleasures of the senses—the taste of delicious food; the sound of music, gossip, or a joke; the touch of a sexual embrace—ends unavoidably in disappointment and suffering. We don’t have to deny that pleasant feelings are pleasurable. But we must remember that like every other feeling, pleasure is impermanent. Wishing to keep any person, place, possession, or experience with us forever is hopeless!

We use mindfulness to penetrate the superficiality of our desire and reflect: “If I cling to this object, I will end up in pain.…I can’t hold on to it forever; I have no way of controlling it. If I get involved in it, I’ll lose my mindfulness. I have enjoyed many things in life…where are they now? Why should I sacrifice this precious moment for the sake of superficial satisfaction?…let me not think of it.” Because of mindfulness, our desire fades away, at least for the moment. When it disappears, we notice that it is gone. We reflect, “That desire is no longer in my mind.” We remain mindful to make sure that it does not come back.

Pleasure without pain is possible only as we progress toward higher states of mindfulness. Unlike sensory pleasure that leads only to an instant of temporary happiness, the joy we feel when we achieve deep concentration brings peace and tranquillity. This beneficial feeling is accompanied by energy and focus, along with the wholesome desire to experience the wonderful feeling of joy again and again.

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