REFRAMING EXPERIENCE
When we experience the ordinary flow of activity – walking from one place to another, talking with a colleague, checking the time – we can notice and reframe experience. Instead of, ‘I am walking. I am talking. I am checking the time,’ we can change the framework to, ‘There is walking. There is talking.
There is checking the time.’
In a sense, we can retrain the mind to see the experience of the world in a different way. As we sit down for lunch, lunch is happening in our mind. We might think, ‘I’m putting food in my mouth,’ but our mouth is ‘in’ our mind. We might think, ‘I am sitting in a room,’ but the room is in the mind.
Our inner world includes thoughts and emotions, liking and disliking, approval and disapproval. Rather than getting caught up in these experiences, there can be the bare awareness: ‘This is a perception of liking,’ ‘This is a perception of disliking.’ This reframed perception can be applied to seeing, tasting, feeling, hearing ... the whole gamut of experiences: ‘This is hearing. This is seeing. This is reflecting. This is what’s going on.’
We also habitually perceive what we experience as ‘wanted/unwanted’, ‘liked/ disliked’, ‘good/bad.’ Instead, we can take a step back and cultivate a different framework. For example, when we get something we want, we can reflect: ‘I was anticipating this. Now I’ve got it.’ We can notice anticipation changing to gratification. Then we can notice the experience of change itself rather than getting lost in the experience of, ‘Hey, I got what I wanted! Hooray!’
The world is happening in our mind. This is not just a mind game; it is a reframing of experience. So, what is the effect of that? How does that change the way the world is felt? How does that change the way the world is appreciated?
This reframing is not just a matter of learning behaviours or obeying instructions. The whole point of following instructions or advice is the internal effect it might have. What really matters is the change of heart. When there is this shift of view, this change of perspective, how is it felt?
Let that really soak in – the world is happening here, in the mind. We recognize the world as patterns of perception. Arising and passing. What is the felt sense of that in the heart? Is there a quality of freedom? A quality of ease? Is there a way that the sense of stress (dukkha) ends?
Experiment with this and see if it can be sustained. Of course, we may forget or become distracted. It is natural to get lost. We may realize that an hour has gone by and that we were completely absorbed in our own projections, our loves and hates and dramas. But then there is the reframing: ‘Oh yes, this is the experience of getting lost in a drama. It feels like this. This is the mind getting lost in stories. Aha!’
NOBODY GOING ANYWHERE
Ajahn Sumedho used to talk about this theme frequently. He would say, ‘The world is in your mind.’ While on one level it is true that the world is ‘out there’ and we’re moving around in it, on another level the world is experienced only in our minds. Similarly, as Ajahn Sumedho reminded me when I’d once become caught up in planning a tudong walk: ‘In actual fact, there is nobody going anywhere, there are just conditions changing.’9
That was a really wonderful reflection for me. On my journey, I noticed a series of perceptions: a perception of putting on a rucksack, a perception of waving goodbye, a perception of the rain falling down, a perception of walking along the country lanes. And, when I remembered, I saw that all of those perceptions happened ‘here’.
Whenever we are travelling or moving from one place to another, it’s just a perception happening in the moment: a perception of the car, a perception of the motorway, a perception of the towns passing by, or a perception of arriving somewhere. But wherever we go, it is always ‘here’. Have any of us ever been in a place that was not ‘here’? Wherever we’ve been during our entire life, it has always been exactly ‘here’.
Therefore, when we remember that there is really nobody going anywhere – that there are only changing conditions of mind – it shifts our perspective on life. Even though we may be moving vigorously, driving or walking or running, when the mind remembers that it’s all just happening ‘here’, there is a profound restfulness within the movement. A peacefulness. A sense of ‘nobody going anywhere.’ The heart is freed from urgency. This spaciousness is what we call ‘freedom from becoming’.["being" is much more appropriate V.B]
Ajahn Sumedho also frequently pointed out that if we start out with the view that we are an unenlightened person who has to do something now in order to become enlightened in the future, then we are starting out with ignorance (avijjā) and will end up with suffering (dukkha). But if we begin with awareness (vijjā), then we will end up with peacefulness (Nibbāna).
Of course, we might think, ‘But I am an unenlightened person! And I do want to take action to reach enlightenment. After all, isn’t Buddhism about doing spiritual practices to make ourselves better?’ But we must pay close attention to the phrasing ‘I am an unenlightened person who has to do something now in order to become enlightened in the future.’ In that phrasing, in the forming of that attitude, a ‘person’ is being created and ‘time’ is being created. We are unconsciously approaching the practice of Dhamma from the position of self-view: ‘I am a person.’ Right there the mind is grasping self (attā).
If we change our view from ‘I am an unenlightened person who needs to do something now to become enlightened in the future’ to ‘Be awake now,’ then we use the capacity of the mind to be aware and awake without creating any position of self-view, without establishing notions of ‘I, Me and Mine’.
The more the mind is awake, the more we then recognize that awareness is not a person, the mind is not a person. We also see that the personal qualities – being a woman or man, old or young, healthy or sick – arise and pass away. Those qualities are known by awareness, which is not itself male or female, old or young, tall or short. It has no nationality, no shape, no age.
That which is true with respect to ‘time’ and ‘self’ is also true for ‘location’ – awareness is unlocated – so when Ajahn Sumedho said, ‘In actual fact there is nobody going anywhere, there are just conditions changing,’ it punctured the self-based attitude of ‘me going somewhere.'
Furthermore, even though what we experience is ‘this mind’s version of the world,’ it is never truly ‘I’ or ‘me’ or ‘mine’. When figures of speech are used, such as ‘The world that we experience is our version of the world,’ (as above) they should always be understood in the light of this insight into ‘not-self’ (anattā).
IDENTITY , TIME AND LOCATION
The mind creates images of past and future, perceptions of ‘me’ passing through time and space. I have been ‘here’ for the past week; I will go ‘there’ in the future. Past, present, and future – the sense of ‘I’, the sense of place or location – the more we reflect on the nature of experience, of the arising and passing of the world as it happens (sights, sounds, smells, tastes, feelings, thoughts, imaginings), the more clearly we see that it all happens HERE and NOW.
Where is the past? Where is the present? Where is the future? Where is ‘here’? They all take shape within the space of awareness. Wherever we have been throughout our whole life, it has always been exactly ‘here’ – whether it was Malaysia, Sri Lanka, America, England, Thailand. Wherever we have been, whatever the date was on the calendar, it was always ‘now’ as it was being experienced. This mind is the nexus, the centre of experience. The universe is known in the mind; this mind is intrinsically the centre of the universe. There are perceptions of a ‘me’ passing through time and space but those perceptions arise, take shape, and are known here and now.
Memories, ideas, emotions, decisions – they are all known here and now. But, most of the time, we don’t realize that all our everyday assumptions, all our ideas about where we are and where we are going, are based upon habits of perception, self-view, attachment to experience, identification with the body and personality: with identity, time and location.
Ajahn Chah used to present people with the riddle: ‘If you can’t go forward, can’t go back, and can’t stand still, where can you go?’ People would be a bit bewildered, their thinking minds frustrated: ‘What a weird question!’ As long as the mind identifies with the body, with the personality, with time and space as absolute realities, there is no solution to the puzzle. But when the mind lets go of identification with individuality, with time, with place, then the puzzle solves itself. When the mind awakens to its own quality of selfless, timeless, unlocated awareness, then that knowing – the awakened awareness – is clarified. The conundrum is solved as the mind stops identifying with time, individual identity and three-dimensional space – it is simply awakened knowing, buddho. As Ajahn Chah would explain:
The Buddha-Dhamma is not to be found in moving forwards, nor in moving backwards, nor in standing still. This … is your place of non-abiding.
In the collection of Suttas called the Udāna, the Buddha likewise says:
There is that āyatana, that sphere of being, where there is … neither a moving forwards, nor a moving backwards, nor a standing still. Neither an arising, nor a disappearance .... This, indeed, is the end of suffering.
(UD 8.1)
This is the principle Ajahn Chah was pointing to.
The mind is present, it is awake, it knows. This knowing is profound, immeasurable, unfathomable, and aware, but it is not a person, not within a realm of time, not situated in a location. This awake, aware quality is an attribute of Dhamma. As is recounted in the daily reflections on Dhamma:
Sabbe dhamma anattā (Both the created and the Uncreated are not-self); the Dhamma is sandiṭṭhiko (apparent here now), and akāliko (timeless). The mind, in its essence, is Dhamma. It is not a person, although it knows personality, and all personal qualities, as they arise and pass. It is not female or male, although it knows femininity and masculinity. It is neither agitated nor calm, although it knows those feelings. It is not outside or inside, liking or disliking, but it knows those perceptions. The mind is Dhamma, aware, awake.
The Buddha arises from the Dhamma. If Dhamma is the substance of mind then Buddha, awakened awareness, is its function. Ajahn Chah also described the relationship thus:
At present, the Buddha, the real Buddha, is still living, for he is the Dhamma itself, the ‘saccadhamma’. And ‘saccadhamma’, that which enables one to become Buddha, still exists. It hasn’t fled anywhere! It gives rise to two Buddhas: one in body and the other in mind.
‘The real Dhamma,’ the Buddha told Ānanda, ‘can only be realized through practice.’ Whoever sees the Buddha, sees the Dhamma.
And how is this? Previously, no Buddha existed; it was only when Siddhattha Gotama realized the Dhamma that he became the Buddha, if we explain it in this way, then he is the same as us. If we realize the Dhamma, then we will likewise be the Buddha. This is called the Buddha in mind or ‘nāma dhamma’.11
THE INTERSECTION OF TIMELESSNESS AND TIME
When the mind, the heart, awakens and embodies its own nature, then there is a profound peace. This peace does not arise from ‘something’ that has been agitated and then stops being agitated. This peace is of a whole different order – a peace based on selflessness, timelessness, freedom from location. The Buddha taught, ‘Bhavanirodho nibbānaṃ’ (A 10.7), which means, ‘The cessation of becoming is Nibbāna.’ Or as Hui Neng said:
In this moment, there is nothing that comes to be.
In this moment, there is nothing that ceases to be.
Thus, in this moment, there is no birth and death to be brought to an end.12
‘Cessation of becoming’ doesn’t mean stopping in our tracks. It doesn’t mean that we stop breathing or that we freeze while moving, as if we were playing ‘grandmother’s footsteps’. This ‘cessation’ doesn’t mean the ceasing of something that exists in time. Rather, it is the recognition of the timeless presence, the suchness (tathatā), that underlies the flow of perceptions, the recognition of the space within which all perception, feeling, thought, choice and action take place.
Even as the body breathes, that which knows the breath is not moving. Even as the body moves, that which knows the body is ever-present, totally ‘here’, outside of the world of movement and time. The ‘cessation of becoming’ is the heart attuning to the ever-present, selfless, timeless, non-located quality of Dhamma. In his Four Quartets, TS Eliot called it ‘the point of intersection of the timeless with time.’13 This is what the Buddhist meditator is doing, attending to the point of intersection of the timeless with time.
As the body moves, there is a stillness.
As thoughts and words arise and pass, there is a stillness.
As sounds are heard, there is a silence behind them.
As forms arise and pass away, there is a space in which those forms appear.
That said, it should be understood that this kind of stillness is not just referring to a moving thing that has frozen in its tracks; this silence is not merely an absence of noise; this spaciousness is not simply a gap between objects – rather these are figures of speech to indicate qualities of the Dhamma, which is Unborn, Unoriginated, Uncreated, Unformed.14 It is the noumenal, transcendent reality that is the integrative principle underpinning the experience of all phenomena.
Dipping back into the realm of theoretical physics for a moment, I feel this timeless, measureless reality is exactly what David Bohm is referring to when he spoke of ‘the implicate order’ and when he wrote:
So we are led to propose further that the more comprehensive, deeper, and more inward actuality is neither mind nor body but rather a yet higher-dimensional actuality, which is their common ground and which is of a nature beyond both.15
Bohm also has some helpful comments to make about the nature of measurement and the immeasurable quality of reality:
Thus in Sanskrit (which has an origin common to the Indo-European language group) there is a word ‘matra’ meaning ‘measure’, in the musical sense, which is evidently close to the Greek ‘metron’. But then there is another word ‘maya’ obtained from the same root, which means ‘illusion’. This is an extraordinarily significant point. Whereas to Western society, as it derives from the Greeks, measure, with all that this word implies, is the very essence of reality, or at least the key to this essence, in the East measure has now come to be regarded commonly as being in some way false and deceitful. In this view the entire structure and order of forms, proportions, and ‘ratios’ [the Latin word from which our modern ‘reason’ is derived] that present themselves to ordinary perception and reason are regarded as a sort of veil, covering the true reality, which cannot be perceived by the senses and of which nothing can be said or thought.16
As the realm of action becomes more apparent as a known quality in the space of the mind, we develop a sense of timelessness as the context of experience.
We attune to a present that is undisturbed by movement or by the arising and passing of perceptions, objects, feelings.
We often conceive of the present as an insignificant little line between an infinite past and an infinite future, an unimportant sliver of time. In the context of the ‘Big Bang’ thirteen billion or so years in the past, and with the future stretching out infinitely ahead, how could this tiny moment we call ‘the present’ matter? In terms of individual experience, however, the present moment comprises all of time.
Likewise, the mind, awake and aware in the present moment, is everything. Perceptions of past and future, self and other, here and there, are all patterns known in the mind, now, in the timeless present. The world is a world of mind. The degree to which this can be realized, embodied, and fully known is the degree to which the heart can be fully at ease, fully at peace, fully responsive to the flow of perceptions, thoughts, moods, feelings, to the actions of the world, people and things.
Conversely, the unawake mind chases after likes and dislikes. It identifies with self and other, gets caught up in wanting, fearing, hating, hoping. The degree to which the mind is unawake is the degree to which peace is obscured and inaccessible to the heart. The unawake mind ties itself to the agitated, the turbulent, the divisive.
So we’re invited to open our heart to the world and realize the quality of awakened awareness and timeless presence. Even as we go places, take on personæ, engage in activities, and make choices, the mind, the heart, doesn’t need to be doing these things in order to be fulfilled, complete or actualized.
Fulfilment comes from the mind knowing its own nature. The heart is already the Dhamma, so what more is there to get or to do in order to complete the Dhamma? The only truly desirable thing is to be what we are already.
During each day, as the minutes tick by and the sun rises, peaks and descends, the moon comes and goes, we can explore the feelings of becoming someone, going somewhere, doing something. We can awaken to the stillness within which all movement occurs, hear the silence that permeates all sound, be aware of the space within which all forms take shape. There is movement but nobody going anywhere. There is action, but no ‘thing’ being done, no ‘one’ who is doing it. There are choices and decisions, but no person who is deciding. There is the heart, responsive to time, place, situation; there is the ease of peacefulness embodied in awareness.
ROHITASSA
It is quite natural for us as human beings to search for some kind of completion or fulfilment. We steer our lives towards particular goals and various kinds of worldly achievement: possessions, curricula vitæ, destinations visited, even retreats attended. But as Ajahn Chah would often say, ‘If you’re looking for finality in what is endless or for security in that which is insecure, you are bound to be disappointed.’
The Buddhist scriptures tell the story of a deva called Rohitassa, who came to see the Buddha one night. He said to the Buddha, ‘In my last life I was a yogi and a meditator. I developed great spiritual abilities and made a vow to walk in search of the end of the world. But even though I kept on walking for many years, I never reached the end of the world and died on the journey. Now, having been reborn in the deva world, I ask you, “Is it possible to travel to the end of the world, where one is not born, does not age or die?”’
The Buddha replied to Rohitassa:
It is impossible to reach the end of the world by walking; but if you don’t reach the end of the world, you won’t reach the end of dukkha, you won’t reach the end of suffering.
(S 2.26)17
The Buddha then goes on to say:
It is within this fathom-long body, with its thoughts and perceptions, that there is the world, the origin of the world, the cessation of the world, and the way leading to the cessation of the world. And one who knows the world reaches the end of the world. Having reached the end of the world, they do not hanker after this world or another one.
(IBID)
It’s worthy of note that the eminent translator Bhikkhu Bodhi has commented that: ‘This pithy utterance of the Buddha … may well be the most profound proposition in the history of human thought’18 – and Bhikkhu Bodhi is not one who speaks in a hyperbolic way.
Here the Buddha is equating the world (loka) with dissatisfaction (dukkha) in direct alignment with the formulation of the Four Noble Truths: there is dissatisfaction (dukkha), the origin of dissatisfaction, the cessation of dissatisfaction, and the way leading to the cessation of dissatisfaction.
In his previous life, Rohitassa had thought, ‘I am going to walk to the end of the world,’ with the aim of reaching the end of the road, the end of everything. Well, just try walking till you reach the horizon. No matter how far you walk, the horizon will retreat, again and again and again. This is an important reflection about the world and the nature of the world.
In a similar passage, the Buddha is quoted by some of the Sangha members at that time as saying, ‘One cannot reach the end of the world by walking, but it is only by reaching the end of the world that one reaches the end of suffering.’ The Sangha members asked venerable Ānanda, the Buddha’s attendant, to explain this, and Ānanda said, as recounted above:
That whereby one is a perceiver of the world and a conceiver of the world, that is called ‘the world’ in this Dhamma and discipline. And what is it whereby one is a perceiver of the world and a conceiver of the world? The eye, the ear, the nose, the tongue, the body, and the mind – these are the means whereby one is a perceiver of the world and a conceiver of the world.
(S 35.116)19
Once again, ‘The World’ is the world of our experience. It is within this very life – within this body and this mind, with its perceptions and thoughts – that we experience the world. Our version of the world is known here, originates here, and ends here, and the way leading to its end is here.
When we think about ‘the end of the world’, we may imagine planet Earth exploding or being swallowed by the sun in a supernova or being crushed when the whole universe collapses. But in Buddhist terminology ‘the end of the world’ refers to the place where the substantiality of the world comes to an end. It is within this very awareness of life as we experience it. The world ends here, in this awareness.
Now, that might sound a bit mysterious, but the Buddha was very gifted at tweaking a phrase just a little bit to shift the perspective so that it becomes more meaningful on the level of our own experience: ‘You can’t reach the end of suffering unless you reach the end of the world.’ That is the kind of statement that gets your attention.
CONVENIENT FICTIONS
We all seek satisfaction, completion, and wholeness – then we become disappointed because we are seeking these things where they can’t be found: in the approval of other people, in the glittering prizes society offers us, in the warmth of relationships, in the achievements of our children, even in tallying the number of hours (or years) we’ve sat in meditation or the number of ajahns we’ve visited. Yes, even we meditators can easily look down our noses at ‘those poor fools chasing worldly possessions’ whilst blithely pursuing equally worldly, superficial goals that have been labelled spiritual. That sort of arrogance is just as misplaced as taking pride in our academic degrees, the beauty of our children or the size of our house. Spiritual materialism is as disappointing as worldly materialism.
In a way, the Buddha’s teaching to Rohitassa – that the mind creates the world – is also about seeing the empty, insubstantial nature of the world, or ‘my version’ of the world. Things that we experience acquire names and designations. We call this place ‘Amaravati’ because that’s the name Ajahn Sumedho gave it: ‘I want to call this place Amaravati: The Deathless Realm.’ So we all agree to call it that. Someone who had been a schoolteacher here prior to that would have called this place ‘St. Margaret’s School’. So really, there’s no ‘Amaravati’ here. That’s just a human agreement, a ‘convenient fiction’.
When we say ‘the world ends’ we’re talking about recognizing these human agreements, these convenient fictions. Calling this place ‘Amaravati’ or this day ‘Tuesday’ are just relative truths, suppositions, determinations, ways of designating things. They’re our conditioned, relative, subjective perspective, not the whole story. The mind that clings to this perspective is the mind that creates suffering. And the mind that recognizes this process and lets go of it is the mind that is free of suffering. With this understanding, we stop looking for finality in that which is endless, for security in that which is insecure, for satisfaction in that which cannot satisfy.
NO FOOTING FOR DUALITIES
In the Kevaddha Sutta (D 11), the Buddha recounts the story of a meditating monk in whom this question arises in his mind: ‘Where is it that the four great elements – earth, water, fire and wind – fade out, cease without remainder, come to an end?’ This monk visits the various heavenly realms, asking the devas for the answer to his question, finally ascending to the realm of Mahā Brahmā, the ‘All-Seeing, All-Powerful, the Maker and Creator of All That Has Been and Shall Be’, according to his self ascribed title. But even Mahā Brahmā does not know the answer and says to the monk, ‘You are a disciple of the Buddha. Why are you asking me this when you could ask the Master yourself?’
So the monk returns to the earth and asks the Buddha his question. ‘Where is it that the four great elements – earth, water, fire and wind – fade out and cease without remainder? Where do they come to an end?’ The Buddha replies, ‘You are framing the question in the wrong way. Rather than asking where earth, water, fire and wind fade out and cease without remainder, you should have asked, “Where is it that earth, water, fire and wind can find no footing, no landing place?” The answer is: In the awake mind. Here also long or short, coarse or fine, pure or impure, all dualities can find no footing.’ This is the same quality that was described above, awakened knowing, buddho. It is also what is meant by the word vijjā and the phrase ‘seeing with the eye of Dhamma’.
In Pali, in the Kevaddha Sutta, this ‘awake mind’ is described as: ‘viññānaṃ anidassanaṃ anantaṃ sabbato pabhaṃ,’ which means ‘consciousness that is non-manifesting, limitless and radiant in all directions.’ In the mind, the awareness – which is formless, infinite, radiant – this is where earth, water, fire and wind can find no footing.20
Rather than telling him a geographical or celestial place where the world ends, the Buddha points the monk to the awakened awareness, which is where the world is understood or known, where worldly perceptions and thoughts – long or short, coarse or fine, pure or impure – can’t find any footing, can’t gain any traction, don’t stick, aren’t given any value, solidity or meaning. The Buddha said to Rohitassa:
The world’s end can never be reached
By means of travelling [through the world].
Yet without reaching the world’s end
There is no release from suffering.
Therefore, truly, the world-knower, the wise one,
Gone to the world’s end, fulfiller of the holy life,
Having known the world’s end, at peace,
Longs not for this world or another.
(S 2.26, BHIKKHU BODHI TRANS.)
By knowing the world, one reaches the end of the world. This is the understanding that sight is just sight, sound is just sound, taste is just taste, smell is just smell, touch is just touch. Thought and feeling, memory and imagination: these things arise and cease. We do not look for a sense of completion or wholeness in the field of perception. Rather, it is by embodying the awake mind that the world is known. This consciousness – which is non-manifesting, limitless, radiant, formless, infinite, all-illuminating – is what the Buddha is pointing to. Or as Ajahn Sumedho has said many times in his teachings: ‘The world happens here’ or ‘The world happens in the mind.’ Reflections such as these help the mind to awaken to its own nature.
BUDDHA-WISDOM AS A REFUGE
Finding the quality of completion or wholeness in our own heart and mind is what the Buddha calls a ‘Refuge’ or a ‘Jewel’. When we speak of ‘taking refuge in the Buddha’, we are speaking of the capacity we all have to know, to be awake, to experience the present moment. Likewise, a jewel is precious, beautiful, symmetrical, solid, relatively imperishable – a symbol of that which is truly valuable in and of its own nature. In a sense, a jewel embodies those precious aspects of our own nature that are revealed by insight.
Saying ‘taking refuge in awareness’ or ‘being the knowing’ may seem hard to grasp. But in this very moment we can experience it directly. There is seeing (colours, shapes, forms); there are sounds (traffic noise, birds, a plane flying overhead, people speaking); there are the feelings of the body (sensations of weight and temperature, the texture of clothing on skin, aches in our legs, back or shoulders); there is smelling, tasting and thinking. Where is all that happening? The world as we know it is fabricated through sight, sound, smell, taste and touch, thinking and language. For instance, when we close our eyes, the visual world disappears. When we open them again, the visual world reappears. It is known ‘here’, in our own mind.
We may say that our bodies are in the room, but we could just as easily say that the room is in our mind, no? Everything that we know about what we call ‘room’ or what we call ‘home’ is known in this mind. This isn’t to say that everything is a dream or that our mind invented it from scratch. Instead, it’s to say that our version of the world is put together through our particular mind, which has been conditioned by our life experiences, language, feelings of familiarity and unfamiliarity. The experiences of seeing, hearing, touching something vary greatly amongst us.
When there is this recognition that the world is happening in the mind, we can then reframe our moment-by-moment experience. When there is the recognition of the world being pieced together as a collection of patterns of consciousness, then to some degree the heart is taking refuge in the quality of knowing, the quality of awareness. At that moment of awakened knowing, the heart recognizes the fabricated nature of experience. There is a letting go, a separation, a disentangling of awareness from the patterns of experience. Aha!
That awareness is not intrinsically limited or coloured or shaped by what is experienced. It is bigger than that, it is more spacious, it is more all-encompassing: ‘formless, infinite, radiant’. This terminology describes that quality of awareness, this transcendent knowing, that is undisturbed and unconfused by whatever pattern of experience takes shape within it. This is the essence of insight meditation – training the heart to embody the quality of awareness, to be able to receive and to know the flow of perceptions – pleasant or painful, interesting or boring, familiar or unfamiliar. Whether we call an experience a sight, a sound, a thought, or a feeling, the heart abides and embodies that quality of awakened knowing; the different patterns of experience arise and pass away within that knowing.
So, in a sense, the essence of insight meditation is cultivating an attitude of non-entanglement. It is not a rejection of the world; instead, it is a letting go of identifying or grasping or entangling with the world.
Ajahn Chah used the image of oil and water. There is the heart which knows and there is that which is known. They are separate, like oil and water. But if you put oil and water together in a bottle and shake it up, for a time it seems like one liquid. That is what we do all the time. We shake up the bottle and the quality of awareness becomes mixed up with our experience of the world: ‘I like this, I don’t like that. This is mine, that is yours. I am a man, I am a woman. I am young, I am old. I am clever, I am stupid. I am a success, I am a failure.’ When we shake up the bottle, there seems to be a solid and dependable ‘me’ who is having all those experiences.
But as Ajahn Chah would add, if we put the bottle down, we don’t have to tell the oil and the water to separate or make them do it somehow. No. They will separate on their own; they are inherently immiscible. In the same way, awareness, the knowing and the objects of experience separate on their own if we let them. The more we put the bottle down, the more we learn not to identify with what we perceive. We stop taking our own lives and minds personally. Rather, we see the whole field of experience as patterns of nature arising and ceasing, taking shape and dissolving. There is then a freeing of the heart. The qualities of limitlessness, spaciousness, clarity and peaceful awareness become apparent.
The process of meditation is not about acquiring something that we don’t yet have, or becoming something that we aren’t already. Rather, meditation is taking advantage of the capacity of the mind to awaken, to disentangle and cease identifying with what we are not, to stop looking for satisfaction in what cannot satisfy, to stop wishing for finality in that which is endless, to stop seeking security in the inherently insecure. In that stopping there is the realization of the ultimately precious jewel of the ever-present Dhamma.
Ajhan Amaro
Mind is what matters.
The Phenomenogical Approach of the Buddha