Four Noble Truths in Daily Life

Thynn: The Four Noble Truths are the cornerstone of Buddhism. Understanding them helps us in daily life. The First Noble Truth is dukkha, or suffering. The Second Noble Truth is samudaya, or craving. The Third Noble Truth is nirodha, or cessation of suffering. The Fourth Noble Truth is magga, the Eightfold Noble Path, leading to cessation of suffering.

M: When I hear the First Noble Truth, that life is suffering, I think Buddhism is a pessimistic, negative philosophy. Yes, some people misunderstand it that way. But this is because the teaching has not been fully understood. When dukkha is translated as suffering, it is understood as gross physical suffering. But in truth, dukkha can be experienced on many levels; the actual meaning of dukkha encompasses the whole range of human experience from very subtle dissatisfaction to gross misery. Dukkha is the inescapable fact of old age, illness and death. It is being separated from what one likes, enduring what one dislikes. At the most profound level dukkha is the failure to understand the insubstantiality of all things. Everything is insubstantial; nothing is concrete, nothing is tangible. To be ignorant of or go against the natural state of impermanence is itself suffering. Buddhism seems negative only if one looks at the First Noble Truth in isolation. But if you look at the Four Noble Truths collectively, you will find that they are positive, because the three other noble truths show the way out of suffering.

M: But how do we incorporate the Four Noble Truths into daily life?

Thynn: That is not difficult. To begin with, you have to see dukkha in its entirety before you can see your way out of it. You don't have to be in physical or mental agony to understand dukkha. It is everywhere around you. Right now, how do you feel about the pounding noise next door? [Noisy construction work was going on at a neighbor's house.]

M: I feel irritated because I want to have a peaceful experience and listen to you and learn what you are talking about. In fact, I'm trying to eliminate the noise from my consciousness, but I can't

Because that is not the way to solve the problem.

M: The noise annoys me and I want to stop it. I have a craving for the workers to stop.

Well then, you have already set up a desire that the noise should stop. How did the desire arise? It arose from your dissatisfaction with the current situation. In other words, you desire a peaceful circumstance right now. Since you can't have it, you are annoyed. There is already aversion in your mind. Suppose you were in the midst of doing something that was very important to you. Then this aversion might flare up into overt anger, hatred or even violence. Aversion is already a stressful state. Anger, hatred and violence bring on even greater stress and suffering, both to oneself and to others. These are the truths that we have to face in every moment of our daily lives. But we are not aware of this aversion and suffering. We blame our dukkha on someone or something else. This lack of awareness is called avijja, or ignorance -- that is, ignorance about the Four Noble Truths. This ignorance is described as an unawakened state. If you wake up to your own state of mind, right now, you will see what is happening there. Can you look into your own mind this very moment and see what is happening there?

M: See what? What happens to the annoyance.

M: When I become aware of the annoyance, it sort of lessens.

As soon as you become aware of the annoyance, the aversion fades away. It resolves in the mind.

M: Yeah, a little bit.

Is it still there?

M: You mean the annoyance? It's much less. It is still there but it is much less now. [laughter] I see. So it's not a question of putting the irritation out of your mind. It is a question of accepting the fact that your mind is irritated and annoyed.

You are right. The issue is not the noise. It is your reaction to the noise. You have to deal with yourself first before you deal with the noise. Now, what are you going to do about it?

M: That's my next question. We have a number of choices. We can move away from the noise. We can ask the workers to stop hammering. We can continue to sit here and try to maintain our awareness of the noise in order to minimize the irritation.

You have to be clear. Is it the awareness of the noise or the awareness of your own state of mind?

M: Awareness of my own state of mind regarding it.

Right. There are many situations in life when you will not be able to eliminate external factors. We cannot eliminate or control most of the external factors in our lives, but we can do something about ourselves. You begin with yourself. Since you are born with a free will, it is absolutely up to you what you want to do with yourself.

M: Are you saying that since I cannot make the noise go away, I can just choose to accept it?

You must understand the difference between accepting things blindly and accepting them intelligently. Acceptance can be complete only when you harbor no judgments. Now let's go back to the Four Noble Truths. Your dissatisfaction with the noisy circumstances is the First Noble Truth of Suffering -- dukkha. Your desire or craving for peace is the Second Noble Truth -- samudaya -- which is the cause of dukkha. Now as soon as you look within yourself and resolve the annoyance, you are free from the cycle of desire-aversion-desire. Aren't you ? Now look into yourself again.

M: The annoyance is already gone! It is amazing that you had to bring the noise back again into my awareness.

Let's look at what we've been going through. You have seen that it is possible to break the cycle of suffering by merely looking into your own state of mind. This in actual fact is mindfulness of the mind, which is the basis of satipatthana meditation in Buddhism. Do you see now how practicing mindfulness can lead to the end of suffering?

M: No, not yet. How does mindfulness relate to the acceptance of the noise?

The acceptance is the result of mindfulness. The act of mindfulness is a transcending act. It transcends likes and dislikes, and purifies our vision. We see things as they are. When we see or hear things as they really are, acceptance comes naturally.

M: You are aware of the noise. You get rid of the clinging to silence and you accept the noise. You accept that the noise will be part of the experience.

There is not even "you" there. There is just acceptance.

M: Aahh.

The acceptance comes from the freedom of the mind in the moment. As soon as the cycle is broken, you no longer feel annoyed. When your mind frees itself emotionally from the noise, it assumes a state of equanimity and acceptance.

M: You're not expecting it to stop and you're not expecting it to get louder.

That's right. You are free of any conceptualizing regarding the noise. You arrive at a point where you can just hear it as it is. With that hearing of the noise as it is, acceptance is already part of the situation. You can't force yourself to accept it. That's why I am very careful using these words. When you say, "I accept," that usually means...

M: I am in control.

Yes, that's right and that doesn't really solve the problem. The kind of acceptance we are talking about is a natural spontaneous absorbing of the environment, being one with it.

M: Oh, I see. There ceases to be a division between the noise and my experience of the noise. So there is nothing to accept or be annoyed about.

Right. Now let us go back to your experience right this minute. Are you still irritated by the noise?

M: Not anymore. I'm completely free of it. You mentioned mindfulness being the foundation of meditation. How does that work?

Yes. Mindfulness of one's own mind at any moment is part of the practice of satipatthana. In this particular instance, your own mindfulness of annoyance is contemplation of the First Noble Truth -- dukkha. Your mindfulness of the desire for peace and of clinging to silence, which is the cause of dukkha, is contemplation of the Second Noble Truth -- samudaya. The moment that you become free of the annoyance is nirodha -- the Third Noble Truth. In this case, the cessation of suffering is momentary, so it can be called tadanga nirodha.

M: And the Fourth Noble Truth?

When you practice mindfulness you are in fact practicing magga, the Noble Eightfold Path. You are making the right effort, called samma vayama, to be mindful, called samma sati, of your annoyance. As a result, your mind becomes collected, which is called samma samadhi. When you transcend your dislike of the noise and your irritation ceases, at that moment you are able to regard the sound as it is. This is called samma ditthi or right view. It is samma sankappa, right thinking, when you are not expecting it to get louder. You are able to verbalize the situation with proper insight, called samma vaca. Now do you still feel like running away from the noise?

M: Not anymore. At first I did. I might have said or done something nasty if I had had the chance.

But you didn't and that is samma kammanta, right action.

M: You mean no action in this context is right action?

Yes. So you can see how by practicing mindfulness with equanimity in daily life, one is already applying the Four Noble Truths and integrating the Noble Eightfold Path as living meditation.

Unity of the Noble Eightfold Path

In Buddhism, the Noble Eightfold Path is the guide to the attainment of liberation. If it is to be understood and incorporated into our daily lives, it must be viewed in terms of unity of mind, speech and action. The Path can be explored in such great detail that one could get lost in digressions. To avoid that, we take a practical, accurate and holistic view of the Path. We look at it in terms of wisdom, ethical conduct and concentration, or -- in Pali -- pañña,sila and samadhi.

Wisdom (Pañña)

1. Right understanding (samma ditthi)

2. Right thinking (samma sankappa):

Ethical Conduct (Sila)

3. Right speech (samma vaca)

4. Right action (samma kammanta)

5. Right livelihood (samma ajiva)

Concentration (Samadhi)

6. Right effort (samma vayama)

7. Right mindfulness (samma sati)

8. Right collectedness (samma samadhi)

Even these three aspects of the Path, although identified separately for clarification, are not separate. In actual practice, with proper understanding,sila, samadhi and pañña are assimilated in each moment, in every thought, word or deed.

Take, for instance, sila, or ethical conduct. How does one refrain from wrong speech and action? First of all, what is right speech and wrong speech? Are they not relative to time, place and person? Is there such a thing as absolute right and absolute wrong? We can go on and on without coming to a definite conclusion, and by so doing we veer away from ourselves -- that is, from our minds.

The purpose of sila is to refrain from hurting others by way of harmful speech and action -- but how much restraint we can impose on ourselves at all times? We react to our environment in such a habitual way that we may already have hurt others before we realize what has happened in the mind. This is because we are conditioned to neglect our own minds in our daily life. Our attention is almost always directed outward. This preoccupation with the outer world is what we have to transcend.

Although we are dealing with verbal and physical acts, all of these originate from the mind itself. The actions of the mind, speech and body occur in such rapid succession that there seems to be no interval in between. As soon as a thought has arisen, we find ourselves speaking or doing something. We find that we cannot control speech and bodily behavior fast enough to refrain from harmful speech and action. But sati (mindfulness) on the mind renders it alert to its own actions of speech and body.

How do we redirect our attention to our own mind? This was the Buddha's purpose in laying out the path of mindfulness. The objective of cultivation of the mind is to learn to break the habitual preoccupation with the external world so that we become more aware of what is happening in us, in our own minds, as we go on in life. As soon as mindfulness, samma sati, occurs, we find that the mind acts no more; it stops like a witness to watch the inner state. When this watching becomes a constant habit, second nature, the cycle of reacting mindlessly to the environment is broken. In this moment of breakthrough, "seeing" or "awareness" occurs: crystal-clear perception of things as they are, of people, situations and things properly in perspective, free of discriminations, likes and dislikes. From this new insight there follows right thinking, right speech and right action, relative and appropriate to each specific circumstance and instance. Then the question of what is absolutely right or absolutely wrong no longer arises.

Thus, in terms of the Noble Eightfold Path, as soon as we pay attention to our mind, there is already samma vayama (effort) and samma sati (mindfulness). When samma sati is full and complete, the mind enters instantaneously into khanika samadhi (momentary concentration), which brings forth pañña (wisdom). Wisdom sees things in the right perspective, samma ditthi. Wisdom brings samma sankappa (right thought); and thereby samma vaca (right speech), samma kammanta (right action) and samma ajiva (right livelihood.)

Hence it is possible in every conscious moment that sila, samadhi and pañña are all three incorporated in our daily business of living -- while we eat, work, play and struggle. In short, our life itself becomes the Noble Eightfold Path.

MS: You have translated samma samadhi as "one-pointedness of mind" or "right concentration." Isn't, textually speaking, samma samadhi an absorption in the four jhanas? One-pointedness of mind can be right- or wrong-pointedness of mind and, therefore, may not fit the true understanding of samma samadhi. This distinction becomes important when we talk about meditation and concentration in daily life.

Thynn: Well, samma samadhi is generally translated as one-pointedness of mind or right concentration. But when it is expounded in detail it is described in two categories: jhanic absorption as in samatha meditation, and khanika samadhi (momentary concentration) as in vipassana meditation of the dry- visioned (sukkha-vipassaka) path of daily life.* Thus I personally think it should not be translated as absorption in the four jhanas only. In this I am following the commentarial rather than the canonical tradition.

You are correct, though, that one-pointedness of mind can be of the right or wrong kin, because the power of the concentrated mind is enormous and can be directed toward harmful activities if not governed by wisdom. This is exactly why the Path should be understood and practiced in a holistic manner. If you take meditation out of the context of the Noble Eightfold Path, without morality or the pursuit of wisdom (pañña), then naturally it cannot be called samma samadhi. In the case of meditation in daily life, what is important is the arising of wisdom (pañña) as a sequel of mindfulness in the moment as a preventive to harmful thoughts, words, action or livelihood.

A traditional elaboration of the Noble Eightfold Path is given at the end of this book.

Dynamics of Meditation

M: What really scares me about meditation is the idea of becoming completely without thought, completely mindless.

Thynn: Let me clarify your usage of "mindless" and "completely without thought." Mindless in your context would mean that the mind is totally absent, without any consciousness, a vacuum. This is not possible. Without consciousness we would be dead. "Completely without thought" means consciousness exists, but no thoughts are present. This is possible in meditation, but only under certain conditions. In some forms of sitting meditation it is possible to reach a state where the mind is absolutely quiet, one-pointed and absorbed in itself. This is called jhanic samadhi. In this meditative state, the person cannot function.

M: I don't think I could be completely without thought. It sounds like I would become like a zombie.

It is only a temporary state, which one comes out of. But we have been talking about another way of meditating, a way that sidesteps the problems of jhanic samadhi. If you practice mindfulness in everyday life as you have experienced just now, you do not go through absorptive states.

M: It sounds like daily-life meditation is a more active process than I had thought. How does the mindfulness process relate to this kind of meditation?

Let's be clear. The process is active whether one is in formal meditation or in a daily-life situation. In the sitting practice, although the body is stationary, the mind is actively watching; it is mindful of the body or the mind. Meditation is a mental discipline that ultimately leads the mind to a purified state.

M: In daily-life meditation, is the mind actively watching itself through a state of no thought?

Yes. When your mindfulness is at its peak, you can experience states where thoughts fall away. But the no-thought state lasts for only a split second. You experience a heightened awareness that is one-pointed as well as absolutely quiet. This momentary one-pointedness of the mind is called khanika samadhi. Although it is not as prolonged as the samadhi states in sitting meditation, khanika samadhi has the same intensity and quality. In khanika samadhi, thoughts fall away and the mind arrives at its purest state.

M: If thoughts fall away, does it mean that no "I" exists in that moment?

Yes, but only momentarily.

M: If no "I" exists in that moment, what does exist? What happens in that moment of no thought?/

When split-second samadhi occurs, in that moment there is no thought, but only an absolutely pure and heightened consciousness. It is at that moment that pañña or insight awareness arises. The person experiences pure vision, ditthi visuddhi. In Pali, ditthi means view and visuddhi means purity. So, it means pure vision.

Although this experience may be brief, it is timeless and infinite; it is a moment of transformation. It is the moment when the "I" and "mine" resolve. After that moment of no thought, pure vision is followed by thought, but the thoughts, emotions and actions are not in the old habitual routine. In the moment of an absolutely still and quiet mind, pure vision (pañña or insight), love and compassion arise from our inner depths. Subsequent thoughts and actions are tempered with love and compassion.

You see, meditation does not make you into an inert, unthinking, unfeeling person, my dear. In fact, meditation brings out the best in you -- love, warmth and sensitivity to all beings.

The practice of mindfulness, whether within the sitting meditation or in this daily-life meditation, is an active, ongoing process. In the sitting practice, although the body is stationary, the mind is actively watching and mindful of the body or the mind. Likewise, in meditation in daily life, the mind is actively watching itself regardless of posture and time. The mental discipline involved in each form is what is most crucial and ultimately leads the mind to its purified state. It is not the postures that lead to enlightenment, though postures are useful in helping the mind to quiet itself. If you understand this clearly, you can meditate anywhere and anytime.

Inner Retreat

L: I've just finished a retreat at a meditation center and I am having some difficulty adjusting to the outside world. It was so tranquil in the center that I find it very difficult to cope with the sights and sounds and all the confusion outside. How can one cope with the transition?

Thynn: Your experience is not unusual. Many people find themselves in the same kind of situation when they first leave a meditation center. In the retreat, conditions for peace and quiet are established, and meditation can be practiced without disturbance. While you are in the retreat, you become temporarily conditioned to these quiet circumstances. So when you come out, you find the bombardment of the sights and sounds difficult to handle.

L: How can one better cope with the transition?

Let's look at how your mind functions inside and outside the retreat. When you were in the retreat, you were practicing mindfulness intensively. Your mindfulness was in a very high gear. When you came out, you probably left the mindfulness behind, didn't you?

L: Ha! I actually did.

There you are! As soon as you left the retreat, you changed gear. You let your mindfulness go and you were back to your old unmindful state. When you are suddenly faced with the confusion in the outside world, you find it difficult to handle. The difficulty arises because you separate meditation from daily experience. Actually, the mindfulness you have learned in the retreat should equip you better to face the outside world.

L: How's that?

Well, first you must overcome the impression that mindfulness can only be practiced in the retreat and at a particular time and place. This conditioning renders it difficult for anyone to bridge the gap between the retreat and the outside world. In the retreat, you have learned to be mindful sitting cross- legged with your eyes closed. Now that you are out of the retreat you can practice the same kind of mindfulness, but you have got to be able to do it with your eyes open, while you deal with a myriad of problems and bombardments.

L: Isn't that difficult?

Nothing is too difficult if you know how. Probably the first thing you learned in the meditation retreat was how to be in the present moment. You can also practice that outside. You can be mindful of everything you do -- cooking, washing up, bathing, driving, walking. You can be mindful of just about anything.

Not only that, but in the retreat you invariably learn to watch your mind like a witness, without likes and dislikes. In daily life you can watch your mind like a witness in the same way. You can watch your aversions to sights and sounds as they come to you. Let them come and let them go. Be equanimous to your feelings about the outside world, and your equanimity will overflow to the outside world itself as well.

As you are witness to your own reactions to the outside world, you will also become a witness to the sights and sounds, and not be so disturbed by them. When you become quite good at this, you will actually be living with an inner retreat whatever your circumstances, whether quiet or not. All the world may go round and round, but your inner world will be still and you will find you won't need a separate time and place to meditate.

L: What about setting up a time to practice at home in the course of the day?

It is fine to do that if you can be equanimous about that set period of practice. You see, what happens with most people is that they become dependent on that meditative practice and find they cannot function the whole day properly if they do not have the chance to sit and meditate in the morning.

L: Why is that?

It is a form of conditioning like everything else. It is like being addicted to the morning cup of coffee or tea. You can become addicted to meditation also. Although this is definitely not a bad conditioning per se, there are many subtleties that one must be aware of in meditation. The mind is very tricky, and one must always be aware of how the mind can be trapped.

L: Then what does one do in such circumstances?

The most important thing is to develop equanimity toward your own practice. It may be the most difficult thing to do because, like everything else, one becomes attached to the meditative practices. We learn to be equanimous with other things, but forget to be so with our own practice.

L: If we can be equanimous with our practice, will it be possible to set aside a time for meditation and yet maintain an equilibrium through out the day?

That will be possible if you can be equanimous and at the same time mindful outside the practice session. Then you can be good at meditating, both in and out of the set period.

Concentration and Meditation

For many people the act of concentration is synonymous with meditation. That is probably the reason why so many good Buddhists are more or less satisfied with the notion that when they are doing something in a concentrated fashion -- such as reading, working, playing golf -- they are already meditating. They are partly right and partly wrong.

Actually, concentration is only a part of meditation. The essence of meditation is to reach a higher form of understanding, pañña, to stretch the mind beyond the boundaries of the intellect into the realm of the intuitive, of insight-wisdom. In most cases, meditative disciplines require collecting the mind to a one-pointed state in the initial stages. The first method used is to train the mind to concentrate on one single object.

If one considers the pure act of concentration one uses in one's work or hobby, one sees that the objective of such a feat is quite different from that of meditation. In our work or hobby we are merely concerned with accomplishing something that is outside of us generally, like job success, winning a game of golf, completing a scientific experiment, etc. In meditation, however, the achievement is inward, an achievement of self-understanding and spiritual insight. In the initial stages of meditation it may be necessary to concentrate on objects that are external to one's mind, like on the nostrils, or on the movement of the abdomen, until the mind is collected at one point. This type of one-pointed collectedness also occurs while we work or play, but that's where the similarity between concentration and meditation ends.

Concentration is pure and simple collectedness of the mind, whereas meditation is the collected mind moving further toward the development of insight-wisdom, or vipassana. In meditation, the awareness of the mind automatically shifts onto the mind itself and of its own accord focuses on its workings and processes, ultimately leading to true self-knowledge.

Though we may come to some form of understanding while concentrating on work and play, this type of knowledge or understanding is intellect-bound, whereas meditative knowledge is intuitive and spiritual. Therefore, the two kinds of understanding are entirely different in nature and serve completely different purposes.

In pure concentration, there is always duality in the mind -- "I" and "what I am doing." There is a subject, an object and the process of doing. In other words, there is the knower, the known and the knowing. Meditation also begins with these three. But eventually the mind transcends these divisions by turning inward toward itself. The ultimate enlightenment experience is the state where the differentiation of knower, the known and the knowing ceases.

To confuse concentration with meditation leads to the difficult-to-overcome states of apathy and self-satisfaction. Thus, the concept that concentration and meditation are the same is a misunderstanding that offers us no help on the path to liberation, and may even hamper aspirants in their inner progress.

MS: You said that in the concentrated activities of daily life, such as reading or working, there is always a duality in the mind -- that is, there is the knower, the knowing and the known. It seems to me that there is a distinction between concentration in an ordinary activity and absorption in an activity like painting or making music or some other artistic endeavor where the knower, the knowing and the known seem to disappear. This grey area comes up again and again in Dhamma talks and questions. Would you elaborate on this?

Thynn: Actually, during absorption in artistic activities like painting or making music, etc., the knower, the knowing and the known do not completely disappear. What happens is that, in these moments of heightened artistic activity, the person experiences a kind of rapture where the sense of "I-ness" fades away to a great extent but not completely. Also, the person is still conscious of the object, be it painting or making music or whatever. Therefore, the known also does not completely disappear. I call these kinds of experiences "pseudo-spiritual incidences," because they come close to jhanic absorptions, but are not quite so. On the other hand, these raptures in artistic endeavors allow the artist to become more pliable and spiritual than most people.

Mindfulness and Awareness

E: How we can practice mindfulness in daily life?

Thynn: Generally, our awareness is very much preoccupied with the external situation, with whatever we contact through our six senses. Invariably, we react to these sensations in a habitual way. We repeat our behavior again and again, without awareness of what is happening in our minds. In Buddhism this is known as avijja, or ignorance. This does not mean intellectual ignorance, but specifically lack of insight into oneself.

E: But we do seem to know our own minds, don't we?

In one sense we do, but only in a sluggish manner. For example, when we go through an emotional upheaval, we are aware of it only after the incident is over. At the time of the turmoil we are lost in our confusion.

We generally focus on the external factors we think are affecting us. Take, for example, the case of eating. Our attention is focused on the food: its taste, its smell and appearance. If the food is not up to our expectations, we immediately react to it with annoyance -- or even anger, if we are already in a bad mood. Then we are apt to vent our anger on anyone or anything we come into contact with.

But if we look at the situation analytically, we will see that the problem does not begin outside of us. Another person who is not concerned with that food, or who even likes it, will enjoy it without making a fuss. So the root of the problem is not in the food but in our judgmental and discriminating mind. The moment we start thinking, "I don't like it," we reject the existing situation as being unacceptable. This rejection always ends up in anger or tension in one form or another.

E: Then how do we practice awareness?

Awareness cannot be practiced.

E: Oh? But we hear and read so much about practicing awareness in Buddhism, don't we?

There has been some confusion between awareness and mindfulness.

E: But I always thought they were the same.

They are related, but distinct. Sati, or mindfulness, implies there is action of the mind. We purposely set ourselves to pay attention to our minds. We exert effort. Awareness is different.

Awareness is devoid of any action.

The mind simply "awares." There is no action here, only a collected and spontaneous awareness that just "sees." Here, mindfulness is the cause, and awareness is the effect. You cannot practice or train the effect. You can only practice something that will cause it. We have to start with mindfulness so that awareness may arise in us.

E: How do we practice mindfulness?

Normally, our minds are in constant motion, thinking, feeling, endlessly flitting from one thing to another. Because of this perpetual motion, there is little room for awareness to arise. Awareness may peek through at times, but it is too timid. It is sluggish and dull. Most often our noisy thoughts and emotions dominate the scene. The mind must get out of this perpetual cycle for awareness to arise fully.

E: How does this happen?

The mind must readjust itself, redirecting its usually externally oriented attention onto mindfulness of itself. When we redirect ourselves in this way, we replace all other mental activities with mindfulness. Rather than getting caught in all the mental activities, we are left only with "paying attention." At each single moment the mind can accommodate only one mind state. For example, we cannot be angry and be happy at the same time, can we?

E: Goodness, no.

When there is anger in our minds, there is no room for happiness. When mindfulness occupies the whole of our minds, there is no room for any thought or emotion to arise at that specific mind-moment. There is pure attentiveness. When this attentiveness is total, the perpetual roller-coaster state of the mind is broken: the mind finds a balanced footing in itself. Then awareness can arise on its own accord.

When there is complete balance, there is awareness.

E: Can you relate this to the incident of eating?

Well, suppose you are used to paying attention to your mind. As soon as you see the food, and thoughts of dislike enter your mind, you will be aware of what is happening in you. When you watch your feelings of like and dislike without judgment, you will be left only with the watching. There is no chance for subsequent thoughts to arise. In short, your emotions will be stopped in their tracks instead of building up. Maybe you cannot stop your dislike of the food, but that is not important. The crucial thing is that when you are stopped in your tracks, you begin to see the situation "as it is" and not "as I want it." This "seeing" is the awareness we are talking about. Instead of reacting with anger, you can now relate to the situation in a relatively calm way and deal with it rationally, with harmony. The situation leads constructively to your own and others' satisfaction.

E: You mean awareness dispels all the confusion in you?

Yes, it does.

E: But how?

You see, in awareness the mind becomes an "all-seeing" state -- which in Buddhism is called pañña (insight wisdom). Although we say awareness, this awareness is not just "being" aware. It is not a passive state. It brings with it a dynamic perception which cuts through all confusions in the mind.

The total external situation is revealed in its entirety with transparent clarity. When we see the world through our own confusion, the scene is very much distorted. The more confused we are, the more distorted our view of the world is. Therefore, our reactions are also distorted, and we create confusion around us. It is only when confusion is transcended by pañña that we have clarity in ourselves. With this clarity we can deal with the external situation in a wholesome and creative way.

In the Moment

P: Why is it that we find it so refreshing to go to a place which is totally different from what we are used to? I always find it necessary to get away from my normal life and take a break, to find a change of scene and environment. Is that quite normal?

Thynn: I don't know whether you would call it normal or abnormal, but one can say that it is quite usual. It is quite usual for us to feel suffocated and hemmed in by our lives. One feels the need to get away from it all, to take a break, and to find new experiences to sustain oneself.

But you must also understand that it is not mainly the suffocating life situation that is driving us to seek relief temporarily, though that does help to some extent. The main reason is that one is not free in the present moment. When one is not free, one cannot experience this very moment fully and completely.

P: So one is actually seeking a diversion when one does not find satisfaction in the present. But even when one gets to a new place and finds the new experience to be exciting, the satisfaction does not last for long, because it only satisfies the senses and not the spirit.

Yes, this is true. When you get back to your original situation, you find that you are on the old treadmill again. But, come to think of it, what is it that makes you feel contented and satisfied? You can be contented and satisfied only when the mind is free from desires and clinging, for only the free mind can experience each moment fully and completely.

To a mind free from desires, free from conflicts and frustrations, each moment is fresh and new. If your mind is always burdened with conflicts and frustrations, you cannot experience the moment fully. There is no clarity or room for experience. In this sort of situation you are either living in the past or in the future; the experience of the present is only partial. You are only partly aware of the present, so to say. You do not experience the freshness of the moment, the joy of everything you come into contact with. So you go out to seek freshness in other places, from other people, in new relationships and so on. However, the cycle continues, because the root of the problem is not in the environment but within yourself. Until that truth is properly understood and dealt with, you continue the search for satisfaction everywhere, and yet find it nowhere.

Meditation without Meditation

R: What is sitting meditation?

Thynn: You purposefully quiet your mind so that you can go deeper and deeper within yourself./ R: Then why don't you teach us sitting meditation?

Buddhist vipassana meditation (insight meditation) involves four methods. First, kaya-nupassana, meditation on the body. For example, the in-breath and out-breath, walking, sitting and standing. Second, vedana-nupassana, contemplation on sensations and feelings. Third, citta-nupassana, contemplation on the mind. And fourth, dhamma-nupassana, contemplation on mental and intellectual objects.

R: You mean all this time I have been meditating on the last three?

What else? Yes, you have been meditating on the last three.

R: You mean in all the struggling I have done watching my feelings and confusions, struggling with the discussions in the group and with my readings, I have been meditating all the time and never even knew I was meditating?

This is a good way of putting it. Yes, you have been meditating without knowing that you were meditating. This is called "meditation without meditation."

R: But why are we so stuck with the idea that to meditate we must sit in a certain way at a certain time?/ You see, institutional forms of vipassana meditation have become extremely popular in Asian Buddhist countries and in the West. Whatever methods the teachers and founders of these institutions may use, there is one feature common to all of them: a structured system or form within which the student of meditation learns to meditate. So meditation has become synonymous with sitting meditation.

R: But how does meditation without meditation work? I mean, how does it achieve results without our having to go through rigorous discipline?

I think you mean the rigor of the sitting meditation as a discipline. You see, the sitting is only an aid to the more important discipline of the mind. The sitting is not to train the body per se, but to train the mind in the art of mindfulness and in going beyond. In formal meditation you concentrate on the body at one point -- either on the breath or on sensations -- in order to relinquish any thoughts, feelings or intellectual activities of the mind, to help it become collected at one point. In the process you learn to watch the mind without judgment and discrimination and also learn to let go.

R: But you have been telling us the same thing: to watch the mind, to let go, etc.

Exactly. You can watch your mind while you quietly sit in the meditative posture, or you can do so while you function in your daily life. Either way is feasible, depending on your own disposition.

In the unstructured approach, you have to face yourself very often. In trying to let go, you must first of all face your own ego and pride. Nobody wants to face his or her own ego. It is too painful. It takes great mental effort to do so. In this unstructured approach, facing your own ego is itself a meditative act of the mind. It requires sati (mindfulness), effort, samadhi (collectedness of mind) and equanimity. It may not require the rigorous disciplining of the body, but it definitely requires perseverance and rigorous disciplining of the mind.

R: But what about our discussions and readings? How do they help develop insight?

In sitting meditation, you purposefully waive intellectualization by concentrating on one single point -- let us say, on the breathing. However, in this less formal approach I am teaching, you use the intellect as a tool to develop insight. Reading, discussing and contemplating the Dhamma sharpen your intellect and insight. But there is a very important point here. If your efforts are only at the intellectual level, then you will only collect intellectual knowledge. This is quite different from actual experiential insight. In our discussions we have always gone beyond intellectualization of the Dhamma. We have gone into personal experience, into the nitty-gritty of life as we live and struggle through. Do you remember many times you've said: "It's impossible; I can't understand it. I can't let go of my opinions and clinging"?

R: Yes, that's right.

And many times you've said, "if I understand, I'll let go." But you found that: you can understand only when you let go of intellectualization.- R: That is correct.

You make use of your intellect only where it works. The intellect has a limit; it can only go so far. When it is exhausted, it just lets go. That is when you experience the "seeing." Then the "understanding" just hits you.

R: But there is a price for this. My goodness, I had to pay so much -- all my pride, my likes and dislikes, my clinging. How I loved my clinging! I had to learn to let go of all that. It was not an easy thing. In fact, it was an enormous struggle, mind you, and sometimes agonizing.

Yes, one does not get something for nothing. But it depends on how we persevere, how willing we are to look within ourselves. We have to be brave enough to face ourselves. That is a great struggle and it takes great effort and courage to do so. But it is, in fact, an effortless effort.

R: Oh?

Yes, you are making an effort without really consciously "trying" to make an effort. In Buddhism that is called viriya. It can happen in daily life or in sitting meditation.

R: You mean we are transcending ourselves during all this struggling?

Exactly. You've been doing that without knowing you were transcending yourself. In sitting meditation, you are taught the "how-to" of letting go at each and every step of the way. The difference here is that you let go without knowing it. Your intellect just simply cannot go any further; it just lets itself go.

R: Oh, that's why, when I try to think about the Dhamma and our discussions, I don't really understand. But later on when I stop thinking about them, the "understanding" just strikes me. It isn't my doing. It just comes like lightning out of the blue. At one point I thought your discussions were too intellectual, especially the Abhidhamma teachings.

Yes, you can even make use of the dullest intellectual treatise in the Pali Canon to transcend yourself!

R: Well, that's something new.

Even that is not! Nothing is ever wasted, if you know how to make use of it. All of our sessions, even the Abhidhamma teachings, helped you stretch your mind. You were making your mind more and more elastic without knowing it. You went further than you had ever gone before. Your mind had to stretch beyond its previous rigid orbit. The more difficult the discussions, the more your mind was exercised. You may not have understood anything during those sessions, but they helped you acquire the plasticity of mind that is so essential to going beyond the mundane.

R: Yes, many times I felt lost and confused.

That was because your intellect was at work. But when the intellect reaches its limit, it just drops away. Many of you have been asking me: what is the method? What do we have to do to achieve understanding? You are so conditioned to systems and methods and to structured learning that you can't see that there is an approach without any form or structure. What have we been doing in all our sessions? All the struggling you had to do within yourselves is the means to self-understanding. Whether you call it method or non-method is irrelevant.

R: I see now. We were left very much on our own to sort things out by ourselves. No methods and no gurus.

Yes, that is the way it is. When you have a guru, you cling to your guru. When you are working with a method, you cling to your method. You become dependent on them. Then you lose the impetus to investigate freely and learn for yourself. Our approach has no strict form or structure in the practice, but all the qualities of the bojjhanga -- the seven factors of enlightenment -- are already integrated in the process we have been in.

R: What are the seven factors of enlightenment?

They are mindfulness, investigation, energy, joy, tranquillity, concentration and equanimity. You have been practicing mindfulness with perseverance within the context of daily life, which in fact has been slowly building up concentration or samadhi. Not only that -- the act of mindfulness in daily life is also an investigative process into the nature of your own mind with equanimity.

The investigation is also taking place while you are reading, studying or discussing with the group. Remember that our discussions were not just theoretical. They dealt with how to incorporate the teachings into our lives and to see through our problems of living by using the Dhamma. We have also seen how we need the right amount of effort and energy to observe our mind, to study and investigate it. And we have found that the pursuit itself, though difficult, brings peace and joy. In this manner, our way of life itself then becomes the Path to Enlightenment. This is the practice of dhamma-nupassana.

Creative Living

H: I have the impression that Buddhism is very individualistic in its teachings.

Thynn: It would seem so, but we are not isolated beings. We live in society. Therefore, what affects an individual invariably affects all those around him or her. Buddhism focuses a great deal on each individual's enlightenment. Although it does not neglect the community, it has to start with the individual. When each individual is well centered and in perfect equilibrium within him or herself, he or she naturally draws others' centers into balance, and hence the community as well. In other words, a spontaneous equilibrium is created within any given situation.

H: How does this come about?

There is no magic formula for it, but two basic ingredients, patience and pañña (wisdom), bring forth the harmony.

H: Isn't patience also a form of passivity?

If one is patient and tolerant but does not have pañña, that patience and tolerance can take the form of passivity. In such a case, one can even allow oneself to be abused in many ways. This is not intelligent living. Intelligent living avoids both extremes -- passivity and impulsiveness.

These days people are always in a hurry and tend to be afflicted with the disease of impatience. We are plagued with the urge to "act" instantly, to get "going," to "move," and to "do" something in haste. We leave no time to reflect, to stop, to absorb, and to let things evolve or emerge by themselves. One tends to react through one's conditioned chaotic mind -- rather than acting in a cool and collected way -- thus creating more chaos.

Any action without intelligence is destructive. Intelligent living means "watching" and "seeing" the right moment, the right opportunity, the appropriate situation, in which to act. In Buddhism this is known as samma kammanta (complete and skillful action). In short, intelligent living means skillful and creative living.

H: Then, if intelligence and patience are both relevant to skillful living, how are they related? How do they come together?

Pañña (wisdom) and patience are like two sides of a coin. If there is intelligence, then patience arises by itself. Patience without intelligence is just contrived benevolence; it doesn't last long. Sooner or later one runs out of patience. True tolerance arises only through pañña. You see, pañña brings with it the four brahma viharas or sublime states, namely, metta (unconditional love), karuna (compassion), mudita (sympathetic joy) and upekkha (equanimity). Only love, compassion and equanimity provide a person with true benevolence. Equanimity leaves the person concerned detached from clinging; love and compassion help the person to identify with others; and pañña leads the person to take the right action. All these together lead to true benevolence.

H: Well then, how does one live in harmony with others?

This is an extremely important question. It is a matter of focusing on your own equilibrium. This is the most fundamental issue. Whatever situation you are facing -- whether it is personal, social, one's career, family, friends, etc. -- equilibrium must start right there ... with you. If you are shaky, how can you bring others into balance? The equilibrium must start right here, within yourself. Otherwise, you will only sink the ship with your shakiness.

Only when you are completely stable and well-centered can you reach out to others' inner states. You cannot change others by purposeful and forceful means. The change, first of all, must come from within yourself. The equilibrium must start right there within you. When you have struck the right balance within yourself, this balance will pervade the whole situation and will, by itself, affect others' equilibrium. It is a spontaneous occurrence. Your own tranquillity will allow other people and situations to respond to you very naturally. We need to retain an open heart, so that whenever we do anything, our action will be out of love and compassion and nothing less. This kind of living and loving generates tremendous energy for harmonious, creative and joyful life.

Love and Hate

She was just out of college; to know her was like a breath of fresh air. She was full of life, intelligent and pleasant, with a youthful inquiring mind. She was becoming a spiritual friend.

She told me about a person she had hated since college days. This troubled her so much that even in her dreams he was bothering her. That was why she wanted to know about love and hate.

S: Can you explain to me about love and hate?

Thynn: Well, you see, love and hate are not so different. They are two aspects of our discriminating mind, like two sides of the same coin.

S: But they feel so different.

Yes, initially they are different, but they both arise out of our habit of discrimination, and they both lead to suffering. Whether we love or hate someone is based on our own likes and dislikes. We automatically categorize people according to our own preconceptions. When they meet our ideals and appear to be to our liking, immediately our mind starts to cling to them; and if they should fall into the category of dislike, our minds start to reject them. In this way we end up loving or hating.

S: But how can we stop loving and hating? I find both situations equally frustrating.

Let's think about a situation where you love a person at one time and come to hate him at another. He is the same person, so why do your feelings about him change?

S: Probably because that person and I have changed.

True. That means our love changes with each changing situation, and that means our feelings are not permanent, but relative to time and place.

S: Our feelings are not permanent?

Exactly. This is what the Buddha called maya, the illusion of the mind. Our feelings are an illusion born of our conceptual mind; they arise from the ego- self. According to Buddhism, since ego is an illusion, anything that is born of the conceptual mind is also an illusion. It has no substance, permanence or peace. That is why mundane love is fickle. That is why it can change to hate.

About a week later she came to see me again, and this time, in great excitement, she said to me:

S: I fully understand now what you said about love and hate! I met that person the other day and, to my great surprise, I found myself going up to him and even greeting him without hesitation. I don't know why, but I don't feel any animosity toward him anymore. Before, I used to hate even the sight of him. It is really such a great relief to me. I feel free now!

Let me ask you one thing: before you met this person did you have this feeling of hate in you?

S: Why, come to think of it, I didn't.

And what about now; do you still have it?

S: No. Then, what is the difference, before and after?

Then she burst into laughter, saying:

S: Very true!

Well, you were free of this hate or love before you met him, weren't you?

S: Yes, that's right.

What did you have to do to be free like that?

S: Well, I didn't have to do anything. I was free by myself.

That's right. By ourselves we are free of either loving or hating. Only when we start to like or dislike do we become entangled in our own emotions. As soon as we come to realize that they are illusions of our own making, we become free. We are brought back to our original situation where there is neither love nor hate. Only when the mind starts to work on liking and disliking is the burden of love and hate built up and we lose that freedom temporarily.

This is a real-life example of how the cloud of moha (delusion), once lifted, leads to freedom and self-realization in the moment.

Happiness

One day a friend found me reading Buddhism and asked, "Are you trying to find happiness?"

Thynn: Yes.

R: Have you found it?

Yes, I have.

R: How?

By realizing that I cannot find it.

R: But how can that be?

There is no such thing as a feeling of happiness that is permanent and everlasting. Those feelings of elation and pleasure that arise whenever we come across things, people or events that satisfy and please us are but momentary.

We hanker after pleasurable feelings, thinking that if we get everything we want we will be happy. When we try to find satisfaction outside of ourselves, we end up running in circles. We can never get total satisfaction from others, just as we can never provide them with it. We simply forget that others are in the same position as we are! They expect the same kind of satisfaction from you and me.

As soon as we try to find happiness, we are already on the road to unhappiness.

R: Is there no way out?

Yes, there is a way out. We will find happiness only when we stop looking for it.

R: But that's difficult.

That is the paradox. The moment we want happiness, we start to cling to it in our mind. First, we cling to our own idea of happiness. We relate to the outside world as a source of satisfaction and look outward for the things we normally associate with happiness -- accumulating wealth, success, fame or power. As soon as we become attached to any idea -- happiness, success or whatever -- there is already some stress. Clinging is itself a stressful state, and everything that derives from it is also stressful. For example, try to clench your hand to make a fist. As soon as you start to clench your hand, you have to use energy to keep your fingers clenched tightly. When you let go of the clenching, your hand is free again.

So it is with the mind. When it is in such a state of clenching, it can never be free. It can never experience peace or happiness, even if one has all the wealth, fame and power in the world.

R: So how do we get out of this?

The only way is to let go.

R: Let go of what? Your desire for happiness.

Love and Compassion

A: What is true compassion?

Thynn: Compassion (karuna in Pali), as taught in Buddhism, is one of four sublime states (brahma vihara) that are inherent qualities of wisdom (pañña). The other three are unconditional love (metta), sympathetic joy (mudita) and equanimity (upekkha). An act of compassion is not isolated, but is also an expression of these other qualities of wisdom.

A: Suppose you have a friend who is an alcoholic, and you want to help her. What would be the right thing to do if she refuses to take your advice?

B: Even if my own son happened to be a victim, I would suggest that he go to the hospital. I would help him all I could if he wanted to go. If not, that's it, and I would not feel angry or say anything.

Yes, if what you are saying is that we can't help someone who is not ready to be helped, that is very true. But we have to be very careful here. We have to examine our own minds very carefully. There is a fine line between equanimity and indifference. If we try to perform an act of compassion in a detached way, with no wisdom governing the act, there is danger.

B: Why is that so?

Because, first of all, only wisdom can differentiate between equanimity and indifference. A person can be very proficient in dissociating herself or himself emotionally from any situation or from people. But that kind of detachment is not true equanimity; it is only a delusion, and the delusion itself can lead to indifference and negligence. You can be led to think that so long as your duty is done, that's it; the rest has nothing to do with you. You must also differentiate between fulfilling duty with indifference and acting with love and compassion. There is a very fine line between them.

B: Then what is upekkha or equanimity if it isn't detachment?

Detachment is the opposite of attachment. It means disengaging or dissociating from somebody or something.

Equanimity is that which transcends both attachment and detachment.

It means seeing things as they are, without clinging or rejecting. It goes beyond attachment and detachment.

B: What is the difference between equanimity and indifference?

Indifference is the result of a lack of concern, a lack of love. But equanimity is born from wisdom and love.

It is not an isolated quality in itself.

It is part and parcel of wisdom, love, compassion and joy. Likewise, compassion is not an isolated feeling. If it were isolated, then it could probably be induced by a conditioned behavior based on the idea of compassion.

A: Then what is true compassion?

True compassion and love are spontaneous manifestations of pañña (wisdom). If there is pañña, there is already love, compassion, joy and equanimity. They are all present in a single act of compassion. That act encompasses all these qualities.

For example, in the case of the alcoholic son, wisdom would give you the insight to look at the total situation -- what alcoholism is doing to your son and whether it is affecting others; what it is doing to the whole family; and the mental, social and economic misery and suffering resulting from alcoholism. You may be detached and not be affected by his refusal to take up your suggestion, but your equanimity should not turn into indifference. There is a vast and very crucial difference between detaching yourself from your emotions and detaching yourself from the situation.

You can still be genuinely concerned and actively involved in any situation without expending your emotional resources. Your own insight into the total situation and your love for the whole family leads you to the right action in that particular situation.

B: So we could say that wisdom and love serve as checks and balances to equanimity.

Yes, that's right. Love keeps you involved in the situation; compassion leads you to identify yourself with others; equanimity helps you to transcend emotional involvement and see things objectively; and wisdom helps you identify the right solution to the problem or situation for the benefit of yourself as well as of others.

A: What about sympathetic joy? How would joy come into this integrated action?

An act is joyless if it is done on the basis of pure duty. Joy is also lacking if you help someone out of pity. Duty and pity fall short of true compassion. Joy is present only when an act is born of wisdom, love, compassion and equanimity. Such action is joyful because it is not restrained by attachment nor burdened with worries and anxieties.

Love and joy bring perseverance to compassion. One does not give up easily until some good comes out of an adverse situation. An act of joy with no emotional attachment makes the involvement itself fulfilling. This is an act born of a free mind.

B: What do you mean by a free mind?

A free mind is a mind free from fixation on anything, free even from a concept of compassion.

B: What do you mean by that?

A free mind is a mind that is purely in the present moment. Because it lacks any fixations, it can view the total situation and adapt to prevailing circumstances -- then you can act accordingly.

Suppose the alcoholic is your friend. How you would act would be slightly different from your actions toward a son. For the latter, you have a far greater moral responsibility than for a friend. Furthermore, your behavior would change according to your standing and relationship with that friend, his attitude, receptivity, etc. Many factors would determine how much you could be involved. On the other hand, if you have a sick child, you would not hesitate to put the child in the hospital, whether the child appreciates your decision or not. Every situation is unique and no fixed rule can be applied to all situations. The only criterion that the Buddha set was that one should act on what would benefit oneself and the other person.

B: So, there are no hard and fast rules for compassion?

The real reason we are having this discussion is that I am very concerned that any generalization I make might be taken as a guideline for action, even in the name of compassion. A fixed idea or guideline for action may not work for every situation.

Fixation leads to conditioning; every time you meet with a similar situation, you react in the same conditioned way, even though there may be differences in the situation. The mind must be free from any fixation; only then can true compassion arise. Every situation we face is unique and different from any other. Each situation has to be dealt with differently according to the needs and benefits of that particular situation. Without clear insight, if your action proves disastrous, you and others may suffer needlessly.

Equanimity and Indifference

One friend always drops in to visit me for a Dhamma discussion when he's in town. He is a devout Buddhist who has been studying and practicing the Dhamma in Sri Lanka with his Abbot teacher for many years. My friend had written me that he wanted to discuss my article on Love and Compassion. He launched into the subject as soon as he arrived.

G: I was quite struck by the piece "Love and Compassion" and I am very glad you wrote about it, because it is one of the problems I am actually facing right now with my teenage son. It is very true that when you have studied the Dhamma, you learn to detach yourself from others, but it is, as you said, very difficult to differentiate between equanimity and indifference. And very often we confuse the two. I find that when I detach myself, I also withdraw from people.

Thynn: Yes, when we first study the Dhamma and learn to apply it to our own lives, we start by learning to detach ourselves, to let go. This is because we are so conditioned, mentally and emotionally, to cling to everything that relates to us. We learn to distance ourselves from the situation so that, instead of being absolutely immersed and caught up in it, we can look at it more objectively.

G: Like becoming a witness?

Yes, initially we must learn to be a witness and not be emotionally involved. We need to be objective, to see the situation as it is, without bias. But in so doing -- unless we have very astute guidance -- we may end up detaching ourselves all too thoroughly. The detachment may overtake other feelings, like concern for and interest in the welfare and benefits of others. This may lead to psychological dissociation from the person because we can falsify our satisfaction and assume that we have done our duty and that there is nothing further to be done.

G: That is so true. I find it very difficult to impress on my son what I think is in his best interest. I have become somewhat detached now, since he does not really respond. I thought I had done my duty and it was up to him to take it from there. If he didn't, then what could I do? I used to think that way. Now, I see that this is not desirable.

Yes, when we withdraw in one way we also tend to withdraw in other ways

. G: Why does it happen like that?

This also is a kind of conditioning. Previously, we were conditioned to cling to everything. When we study the Dhamma, we are taught to "uncling" or let go; however, instead of clinging to all sorts of things, we now cling to the idea itself of letting go. So we become conditioned to the opposite extreme. We let go of virtually everything. Thus, when we are faced with a situation we tend to react by letting go of both the situation and the people. Even letting go can become a habit.

G: A habit?

You see, the mind is a peculiar thing. It is used to being fixed on something -- past experiences and memories, past learning, ideas, etc. Because of this, we cannot experience each moment without attachment to anything. We even cling to the best of Dhamma ideas.

The idea of letting go is also a concept. This concept is useful when we begin to study the Dhamma, or when we practice meditation. But eventually we become so proficient at detachment that we don't realize we are clinging to yet another concept. From the concept of self we switch to the concept of non- self, the idea that "it has nothing to do with me." This leads to disinterest and lack of concern for others.

As a result, you may unconsciously close your mind as well as your heart even to those closest to you. This creates a barrier between you and those in your life.

G: Is this what you mean by indifference?

Yes, it is. From detachment, we unwittingly move on to indifference. Mind you, this is not purposeful indifference; there is no intention behind it. It's simple conditioning. So long as the mind responds to people and situations in any conditioned way, love and compassion have no space to evolve.

G: How does love evolve then?

Love evolves only in a mind that is totally free, free from fixation on any idea -- even the idea of letting go. We have to learn to free ourselves from the idea of letting go.

G: But how do we free ourselves from this concept?

By mindfulness of the moment. Let me stress this. As soon as you realize that you are clinging to the idea of letting go, you will drop the letting go. In that moment of "dropping" you are free.

There is a Zen parable about a student holding a pot in each hand. When the Master saw him, he shouted, "Drop it!", and the student dropped one pot. Again the Master commanded, "Drop it!", and the student dropped the other pot. Again the Master shouted, "Drop it!", and the student became enlightened. Everything dropped from his mind. He became absolutely free. At that moment of absolute freedom the pupil experienced Truth.

When we realize that we are conditioned to letting go, we spontaneously transcend the conditioning. We stop clinging to the idea of letting go of our concern for and interest in others. Only in moments of complete freedom from either attachment or detachment can upekkha (equanimity) transcend both states of mind.

Only then can insight arise spontaneously as to what is the best approach to the situation. If the situation needs our concern, we give it; if it needs our interest, we give it; if our action or intervention is necessary, we do not hesitate. We let go and pick up at the same time.

G: Could you explain a little more?

It is important to let go of clinging to your fixed ideas -- to self, or to the desire to change others, for example. But at the same time, you need to pick up the threads of life. In short, make your actions into pure acts -- straight from the heart.

For example, in the case of a child who has not come of age, indifference on the part of parents is very undesirable -- even dangerous. Children do not have sufficient knowledge and maturity to decide many things on their own. They require our continued concern and interest. So long as our acts do not arise out of egoism, and we have enough insight into the needs of our children, we can reach out to them. But if the idea of "letting go" creates a barrier within ourselves, we will be paralyzed. We have, first of all, to deal with our own inner problems, our desire to control. Then we can deal effectively with those outside.

G: But what about being a witness? If you are a mere witness you will not be concerned or involved.

That is true. Initially you need to learn to be a witness -- to detach yourself emotionally from situations. But being a witness is only a phase in learning to be objective. When we have learned to be objective, we have to step back into the drama of life again.

G: But won't we be caught up again in the same old cycle of affairs?

Yes, that is a danger. If you have not gained any insight by your withdrawal, you may return to the same vicious cycle. But if you have really understood how to "let go and pick up at the same time," you won't get tangled up again.

You see, when you step back into the drama, you step back differently. Now, you act with clear understanding rather than fear or ignorance. Previously, you looked at the situation through your ego -- you saw everything through filters. It was impossible to see the entire situation when you wanted to control the situation. Before, it was more important to justify your ego-hood. Now, after stepping back and removing the filters, you can see clearly the whole panorama of what is happening around you.

The more freedom you have in the moment, the more clarity you have about the situation. This clarity brings with it a sensitivity and compassion for others which keeps you involved, even if they don't respond immediately. You can persevere in your search for a way to benefit others, because you are not emotionally burdened. The act of involvement itself becomes joyful because it is a free act, an act of pure love and spontaneity. You are part of the whole; you are no longer isolated from others. You are connected to them without losing yourself in their problems. You stand free, yet you are not apart. That is true equanimity.

Sense Pleasures

SDD: I have just read something by a well known Buddhist teacher on sense pleasures and how they are the scourge of human beings. The teacher talks about how clinging to sense pleasures creates problems in society.

Thynn: It is true that there is excessive indulgence in sense pleasures. No doubt, modern civilization has become too preoccupied with them and allowed itself to be enslaved by them. Let us look objectively at the root cause of the problem. Otherwise, we fall into the trap of rejecting the sense world and escaping from it, and in the end this is the same as being enslaved by the senses. It is possible to be bound up in rejecting the sense world.

SDD: How is that?

If you think preoccupation with the sense world is the root cause of the human problem, you may feel a sense of guilt where sensual enjoyment is concerned. You may even be afraid to experience sensual pleasures. This can lead to escapism and phobias if you are not careful.

SDD: Then what is the solution to this?

Craving after sense pleasures is primarily due to insecurity and not recognizing craving in ourselves. We don't know what we are lacking, so we look outside ourselves. We try to fill our emotional vacuum with all kinds of diversions. And, of course, with the rampant commercialism, the handiest thing is to indulge in all kinds of new experiences that cater to the senses. But invariably we find that there is no end to indulgence and pleasure-seeking. There is no lasting and absolute satisfaction from these sense pleasures because we are not free in the moment.

SDD: Why is that so?

The mind, in its state of insecurity, needs to cling to something -- material possessions, sense pleasures, distractions, wealth, fame, success or just about anything on earth -- in order to fill the emotional vacuum. Actually, all these give us is a false sense of security or temporary satisfaction.

SDD: How does one deal with insecurity?

There is only one way to deal with insecurity.

SDD: What is that?

It is to arrive at the understanding that security cannot be found anywhere or in anything.

SDD: Oh? Why is that?

It is the search for security itself that makes the mind insecure; the mind is so bound up with the search that it is not free to experience what can be found in the present moment. We tend to project ourselves into the future, so we cannot live fully in the present; we experience the present only partially. Thus we do not experience the freshness of each moment. But if each moment is experienced fully with every encounter, the beauty and the joy that day-to-day surroundings bring become so obvious that there is no need to look for satisfaction elsewhere.

SDD: But how does one learn to live in the present moment?

It all goes back to being mindful in the moment.

SDD: Mindful of what? Is it on the body or on what you are doing?

Mindfulness on the body does help you to exist in the present moment, but the most crucial thing is to realize your own freedom in the moment. If you start to want this and want that, thinking about the past or thinking about how you are going to enjoy the future, you are not free. Your present moment is preoccupied with the wanting and as a result your natural freedom in the moment is lost.

SDD: You mean, we are naturally free but make ourselves "un-free?"

Yes, it is as though you were being tied by with an invisible rope, by no one but yourself.

SDD: What you mean is, when you realize that there is no such thing as a rope tying you, you are already free!

That's exactly it. You are back to your natural freedom in the moment, and you can experience relationships afresh, in ordinary living. Even very mundane things become so fulfilling that there is no need to search for freedom elsewhere or to be dependent on new experiences and sense pleasures. You see, this natural freedom in us is the only permanent thing, because it is the innate essence of our being; it is life's natural gift. Everything outside of ourselves is contrived and unsatisfactory.

So, to be free of sense pleasure is neither to cling to nor run away from it, but to learn to be free in yourself. From this premise of freedom in yourself, the sense world will neither threaten nor attract you. Then you will be able to experience sense pleasures without becoming a slave to them. In fact, we don't study the Dhamma to shut out the external world or to be enslaved by it, but to arrive at our innate natural freedom. Then we can experience the world as it is, in its beauty and ugliness, in the mundane as well as the extraordinary, without having hang-ups or being caught by life's snares.

Outward Form

D: You said we should neither cling to form nor reject it. How do we know if we are clinging or not?

Thynn: It depends on whether or not you are having conflicts with yourself regarding form. Society requires certain forms. You are expected to behave in a certain way, dress in a certain manner. This conventional truth is called paññati. It means knowing which form is appropriate for that situation. But if you cling to the form, your mind will be rigid and you will enslave yourself to form. On the other hand, if you reject the form while you are in it, then you are also enslaved.

D: Why is that so?

When you reject something, you are clinging to your rejection. Your mind becomes fixed on the rejection. Clinging or rejecting, either way, your mind is fixed and can never be free of conflict. You perpetually struggle.

D: How does we get out of this fixation?

You have to transcend the dualism of form as well as of not-form.

You cling to form or reject it because you have set up likes and dislikes in your mind. Perhaps you reject a conventional truth. Although this truth is relative, it is still the established norm for the moment. When you rebel against a form, you are unable to accept things as they are.

D: But how can we accept a form if it is against our better judgment?

That is exactly the point. It is precisely because of our value judgments that we are unable to see things as they are. We see things according to our way of thinking. Our likes and dislikes become our frame of reference. We reject outright anything that does not fit into this framework. Conversely, if something fits into our framework, we embrace it as our possession. Our mind always flits between these two extremes, clinging and rejecting. As long as our minds are polarized in this manner, we continue to be attached. When we are so attached to our likes and dislikes, how can our minds be free to see form as it is?

D: Then what do we do?

There is nothing to do but learn to be silent, to not judge the form. As soon as you stop judging, your likes and dislikes will also cease, as will your clinging and rejecting. Once you stop being judgmental, you will see the form as the form, no more, no less. You will see it as it is and you will be able to relate to it freely.

Unhindered by rejecting or clinging, you can function within form or no-form.

Ordinary Awareness

Being a close friend, and closer still in spirit, makes possible open and free communication without constraint either way.

E: I am aware of a stillness in me that is so peaceful and exquisite that I feel as if I were living in a cocoon.

Thynn: This is only a phase. It will pass away, and later it will become ordinary. There is nothing extraordinary about peace.

E: But this is not ordinary! I felt this peace when I was very young, but when I grew up I became filled with emotions, conflicts and frustrations, and I lost this stillness. Only now, through meditation and study of the Dhamma, am I beginning to experience this again! This is a marvelous thing and it is definitely not ordinary. What I mean by ordinary is the angers and frustrations I went through before. I don't have them now. That is what I mean by not being ordinary.

It is true that the feeling of marvel and exquisiteness makes one think one is enveloped in a cocoon. This is only in the beginning. This feeling of exquisiteness -- or whatever you want to call it -- will fade away like everything else. For the moment, you feel separate from others and may even think yourself above them. Actually, there is neither above nor below. We are all the same as human beings. We all possess this inner stillness, everyone of us.

We are neither better nor worse than others.

It is just that we are more fortunate than some others because we have been presented with a set of circumstances in which we can learn to experience this inherent inner quality.

E: You mean everyone has it in them.

Of course. Most people are not aware of this peace because they are caught up with their emotions and everything that goes on outside of themselves. In Buddhism, this is called moha, or delusion. Just because we know how to look within doesn't make us any different from others. If we think we are different, we are creating a huge gulf between ourselves and others. We are creating a mental division and will never be at one with them.

E: But why do you say this awareness of peace is ordinary?

Well, you see, it may seem extraordinary to you now because for a long time you have been functioning with a roller-coaster mind. But the newness will wear out and this awareness of peace will become second nature. Once you become accustomed to this relatively new state of mind, it becomes just an ordinary way of being, an everyday awareness. The only difference is that previously your awareness was tied to the outside world and to your emotions and confusions. Now it has learned to stay in its own peace.

E: But how did we lose our peace?

We never lost peace; it has always been there. We were just too preoccupied with our emotions and were not aware of our peaceful state. This peaceful state is nothing extraordinary. But one has to be very careful here. As long as we think this stillness is extraordinary, we cling to it. This clinging is so subtle and refined that it is difficult to recognize in oneself. One does not realize that one is still on a very refined ego trip. So long as that is the case, even when one experiences stillness through samadhi (concentration), there is no chance for pañña (wisdom) to arise.

E: Why is that?

Even a very concentrated mind, if it is not completely free, impedes the unfolding of wisdom. You see, in achieving samadhi, although you can suppress defilements to some extent, they are not totally extinguished. Samadhi enables the mind to achieve a sharpness and sensitivity that is greater than ordinary. This sensitivity is what experiences peace and stillness so clearly. Sensitivity has its drawbacks in that the stillness is so unique and exquisite that one clings to its uniqueness. Thus self-importance arises. Many are stuck in this way and are unable to proceed from there.

E: Don't you need samadhi to achieve pañña (wisdom)?

Sure -- but let's be clear. There are two kinds of samadhi. In addition to jhanic samadhi, there is also what is called khanika samadhi. It is only momentary in nature but it is penetrating enough to realize Truth. Khanika samadhi can occur even without strenuous meditative efforts, given the right circumstances and mental state. Even in jhanic samadhi, realization of Truth or anatta (not-self) is only momentary. After that, one is back to ordinary consciousness. The unfolding of insight wisdom with khanika samadhi occurs with few or none of the mystic experiences or sensations of bliss that are usually encountered in jhanic samadhi; thus, the person has no chance to cling to blissful sensations. Before they know it, they are back to ordinary consciousness.

E: But don't people who experience khanika samadhi also accumulate some experiences they hang on to?

Of course they do, and that is why in all cases there should be a guiding hand to help people free themselves from their own achievements. As I said just now, clinging to progress on the spiritual path is so subtle that it is never easy for us to realize this in ourselves.

E: Would a teacher know it?

It depends upon the sensitivity of the teacher and his or her own experience. But a truly wise teacher should be able to detect where the clinging or the problem is and help accordingly. I still remember clearly eighteen years ago when my teachers chastised me mercilessly for getting a swelled head. Thinking back now, I realize how fortunate I was to experience my teachers' great compassion.

E: Wasn't it painful for you at that time?

Of course it was. I was only thirty-three then and the only woman in the Dhamma circle. You can imagine how inflated I became with all the praise and attention I was getting. My teachers saw all of this and took it upon themselves to put me in my right place. They taught me the essence and virtue of humility. From them I learned that spiritual achievement without wisdom and humility is useless to oneself or humanity.

The essence of the spiritual path lies only in the beauty of the ordinariness, in the mundane, and in the freedom from separation of the spiritual and the ordinary.

1. Right Understanding (samma ditthi) Knowledge of the Four Noble Truths:

• a) the Noble Truth of Suffering;
• b) the Noble Truth of Cause of Suffering;
• c) the Noble Truth of the Cessation of Suffering;
• d ) the Noble Truth of the Way Leading to the Cessation of Suffering.

2. Right Thoughts (samma sankappa): thoughts free from:

• a) lust, free from attachment;
• b) free from ill-will; and
• c) free from cruelty.

3. Right Speech (samma vaca): refrain from:

• a) falsehood;
• b) slander;
• c) harsh words; and
• d) frivolous speech.

4. Right Action (samma kammanta): refrain from:

• a) killing;
• b) stealing;
• and c) sexual misconduct.

5. Right Livelihood (samma ajiva): abstain from trading in:

• a) arms;
• b) human beings (slavery, prostitution, etc.);
• c) flesh (breeding animals for slaughter);
• d) intoxicants; and
• e) poison.

6. Right Effort (samma vayama)

• a) to discard evil that has already arisen;
• b) to prevent the arising of unarisen evil;
• c) to develop unarisen good; and
• d) to promote the good that has already arisen.

  7. Right Mindfulness (samma sati): mindfulness with regard to:

  • a) body;
  • b) feelings;
  • c) mental formations; and
  • d) ideas, thoughts, conceptions and things (Dhammas).

GLOSSARY OF PALI TERMS

Anapanasati: mindfulness of breathing; a form of meditation

Anicca: impermanence, flux, change

Avijja: ignorance of the Four Noble Truths

Brahma vihara: sublime dwelling in universal love, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity

Bojjhanga: seven factors of enlightenment, of which mindfulness is the first

Citta-nupassana: contemplation of the mind

Dhamma: truth, teaching, righteousness, doctrine, nature, all things and states, conditioned and unconditioned.

Dhamma-nupassana: contemplation on mental/intellectual objects

Dukkha: suffering, conflict, unsatisfactoriness

Jhanic samadhi: trance state in which the mind is absorbed in one mental object

Karuna: compassion

Kaya-nupassana: contemplation of the body

Khanika samadhi: split-second collectedness of the mind

Magga: path or way

Maya: illusions

Metta: universal love

Moha: ignorance

Mudita: sympathetic joy

Nibbana: Ultimate Reality, Absolute Truth, The Unconditioned

Nirodha: cessation of dukkha

Pañña: insight, wisdom

Samadhi: concentration attained in higher meditation

Samatha: concentration meditation

Samma kammanta: right action

Samudaya: arising, origin of dukkha

Satipatthana: setting up of mindfulness

Tadanga nirodha: momentary cessation of suffering

Theravada: literally, "the School of Elders," the orthodox, original form of

Buddhism followed in Sri Lanka, Burma, Thailand, Laos and Cambodia

Upekkha: equanimity

Vipassana: insight meditation