Seeing That Frees by Rob Burbea
Revered in the tradition as the ‘crown jewels’ of the Dharma, the Buddha’s teachings on emptiness and dependent arising point and pave the way to the most beautiful possibilities for us as human beings.
Emptiness – in Pali, suññatā, in Sanskrit, śūnyatā,
To many people, and often even to meditators, the very word ‘emptiness’ can evoke emotional associations with a sense of barrenness, bleakness, meaninglessness, or even depression. But that is definitely not what Buddhist teachings mean by the word emptiness. On the contrary, they point to this realization as something wonderful, supremely joyful, and profoundly liberating. It might also be imagined that voidness is some kind of thing that can be obtained; but it is not a thing. Nor is it a state of mind or a state of consciousness.
Why do we crave? And the answer the Buddha gave and wanted us to understand is that craving is based on a fundamental mistake in the way we see and intuitively sense our selves and the whole world of inner and outer phenomena. We feel and take for granted that selves and things are as real as they seem to be, that they exist, as they appear to, in a substantial way, in and of themselves, ‘from their own side’, as it were. Their reality seems obvious. We assume, in a way that involves no thinking, that our bodies or this book, for instance, exist independently of other things and independently of the mind that knows them. We feel that a thing has an inherent existence – that its existence, its being, inheres in itself alone. Believing then that this real self can really gain or lose real things or experiences which have real qualities, grasping and aversion, and thus dukkha, arise inevitably.
We can, at least for now, define emptiness as the absence of this inherent existence that things appear to naturally and undeniably have.
To illustrate this and begin to get a hint of what it means we could consider a wooden chair thrown onto a big fire. The chair begins to burn, then gradually deform and fall apart, slowly turning to ashes. At what point exactly is it no longer a chair? Is it not the mind perceiving and conceiving of it one way or another that determines whether it is ‘a chair’ at a certain moment in time after catching fire? Its chair-ness is given by the mind, and does not reside in it independently of the mind.
Updated: Apr 26, 2023
Unquestioningly but mistakenly then, we intuitively sense and believe in this inherent existence of phenomena, in ‘real’ experiences of a ‘real’ self in a world of ‘real’ things. Now, in itself, this may strike some as a rather abstract or irrelevant piece of metaphysical philosophizing. But as alluded to earlier, the complete dissolution of this error in our sense and understanding of things is the primary thrust of the Buddha’s message of liberation. This mistaken seeing is the deepest level of what the Buddha calls the ignorance or fundamental delusion (Skt: avidya; Pali: avijjā) that we share as sentient beings. We cling, and so suffer, because of the way we see. Although it may not be obvious at first, any clinging whatsoever requires this mistaken intuitive sense – of the reality of what we are clinging to, and of the self as something real and so ‘invested in’ through clinging. But we do not cling to what we know is not real.
As the Buddha said, One who… knows with regard to the world that ‘all this is unreal’ abandons the near shore and the far, like a snake its worn-out old skin.5
To the degree, depth, and comprehensiveness that we can realize the emptiness, the illusory nature, of phenomena, to that degree, depth, and comprehensiveness is freedom then available to us. Thus in his Catuḥśataka, Āryadeva wrote, concerning this fact of the voidness of all things: When one sees reality one achieves the supreme abode. [But] even by seeing the slightest bit of it, one is better off. Therefore the wise should always cultivate such insight in contemplating phenomena.7 And thus the Buddha encouraged those who seek freedom to View the world as void.
Imagine that one day when out walking you turn a street corner and suddenly hear a loud and menacing growling nearby. A ferocious and hungry-looking tiger appears in front of you seemingly about to leap. The distress of a reaction of terror there would be quite understandable. But if you notice on closer inspection that this tiger is not real, that it is actually a holographic projection with accompanying sound recording from a nearby hologram projector, the fear and the problem simply dissolve. The release from the suffering of the situation here comes not from simply being mindful or accepting of the tiger so much as from the realization of its illusory nature. It is this that hopefully your mindfulness can reveal. And such an understanding will not seem abstract and irrelevant; it will matter. Sometimes it is assumed that realizations of voidness will create some kind of ‘disconnection from reality’ or ‘ungroundedness’ in a person. But here we can see that to realize that this tiger is illusory is, in fact, to be more ‘grounded in reality’ than otherwise; and that it will make a considerable difference to how you feel. We can even say that from the point of view of what brings release from dukkha, the most profoundly significant and fundamental thing to understand about this tiger is its emptiness.
As Nāgārjuna wrote: Whenever there is belief that things are real… desire and hatred are generated… Without that belief no defilements can occur… And when this is completely understood, all views and afflictions dissolve… [This] the supreme knower of truth [the Buddha] has taught.
To say that all things are void, however, is not to say that they don’t exist at all. Emptiness is not nihilism. Clearly and undeniably there are appearances of things and those appearances follow reliable laws and function in terms of predictable cause and effect. It turns out, rather, that to see that something is empty is to see that it is beyond the categories of ‘existing’ or ‘not existing’. Asked by the monk Kaccāyana about Right View, the Buddha answered: That things exist, O Kaccāyana, is one extreme [of view]. That they do not exist is another. Rejecting both these extremes, the Tathāgata points out the Dhamma via the middle.
The concern that emptiness implies a kind of moral nihilism, an attitude that ‘we can do whatever we want because everything is empty’, and that following this path we will not care for the plight of others and the world, we can also test through our own practice. But we will find that as insight into these teachings deepens, we become, as a matter of course, more easily moved to concern for the world, and more sensitive to ethics and the consequences of our actions. Opening to voidness should definitely not lead to a lack of care, to indifference, cold aloofness, or a closing of the heart. If I find that my practice is somehow making me less compassionate, less generous, less caring about ethics, then something is wrong in my understanding or at the very least out of balance in my approach, and I need to modify how I am practising. Generally speaking, and although it may at first seem paradoxical, as we travel this meditative journey into emptiness we find that the more we taste the voidness of all things, the more loving-kindness, compassion, generosity, and deep care for the world open naturally as a consequence in the heart.
And as we learn to deepen our understanding through meditation, we discover that not only does seeing into emptiness bring a rare and crucial freedom, sweet relief, joy, and love, there is in the seeing of it more and more a sense of beauty, of mystery. It becomes indeed a mystical understanding. We uncover a dimension of wonder in things that we hadn’t known before, because the voidness of things is something truly magical when experienced deeply.
As the Zen saying puts it: "True emptiness equals wondrous being."
Likewise, when we hear or read that what is meant by the voidness of a thing is simply the fact of its dependence on causes and conditions, the central import of this dependence on mind may go unrecognized. While at one level it is certainly an accurate statement to say that something is empty because it depends on various elements and conditions, it is vital to open out completely just what this means.
It is this dependence of all phenomena on the mind that is most significant and that needs to be understood. Teachings on voidness are offered in the service of liberation, yet it may be that an explanation of emptiness as meaning ‘dependence on causes and conditions’ is grasped in only a limited way, and so yields only very limited freedom, if any at all, and misses the profundity of what is being communicated. If, for example, I own an expensive china vase, my knowledge of the many and rare conditions which had to come together for its creation – the particular mix of clays sourced perhaps from various barely accessible mountains, all the conditions involved in the formation of those clays over time, the conditions for their extraction, all the conditions involved in the development and handing down of the techniques used by the artisan who crafted it, the conditions sustaining the life of that artisan, and so on – rather than leading to my letting go of attachment to the vase, might actually increase my attachment to it. Acknowledging dependency on causes and conditions merely at this level of materiality will only sometimes bring a release of clinging. It will often do little to undermine our sense of the reality of objects. And as we have explained, it is this belief in their reality which supports our clinging, and so our dukkha. A level of insight that sees the dependency of phenomena on the mind, however, will open an understanding of their being beyond existing and not existing, and so bring freedom much more powerfully.
Imagine that you enter a room that is dark except for a lamp in one corner. There you see your friend, huddled next to the lamp in a state of great anxiety and staring transfixed at the wall opposite. "A wolf! A wolf!", he is whimpering in fear. Turning to look at the wall, you see a large silhouette of a wolf but very quickly realize that it is just the shadow of your friend’s hands, cast by the lamplight on the wall. In his fear he is completely unaware of his hands or how he is holding them, or the fact that the wolf shape is merely their shadow. What will you say to him? The ramifications for freedom here are of course similar to those in the case of the holographic tiger. This illustration has the slight advantage, however, of implicating our involvement somehow in fabricating the illusion and the appearances of things. In this scenario, although your friend may have been trying to ‘be with’ the wolf, ‘accept’ its presence, even remind himself of the impermanence of all things, at the deepest and most significant level ‘insight’ and ‘wisdom’ here must mean seeing that the wolf is a fabrication that he himself has been fabricating. Pointing this out to him would also be the most compassionate response to his plight that you could offer him, if he was ready to hear it and to let go of the wolf.
If we are not careful, we may simply assume a common default position – happily admitting that some experiences and phenomena are somehow fabricated (illusory), while tacitly, or even more explicitly, presuming others to be true (not fabricated, not illusory).
It is not that while everything else is fabricated by the mind, the mind itself is somehow real, a really existing basis for the fabrication. The mind, whether conceived as mental processes or ‘Awareness’ – even the awareness that we can know as vast and unperturbed, that seems natural and effortless – is also fabricated in the process. We find, in the end, that there is no ‘ground’ to fabrication. And as if that were not cause enough for amazement, we eventually also recognize, taking this exploration of dependent arising deeper and deeper still, that even this profound realization of the fabricated nature of all phenomena is only a relative truth. Fabrication itself is empty too.
What we come to understand is that the way things truly are is beautifully beyond the capacities of our conception. Practising with dependent arising forms a thread, though, that can be followed to such great depths. For in doing so, insights of greater and greater profundity are progressively opened, until this thread ultimately dissolves even itself. It leads and opens beyond itself.
Updated: Apr 27, 2023
I have found, in my own practice and through teaching, that the realization of emptiness deepens and brings more felt fruits in life if it is approached not only gradually, but also primarily in relation to whatever is immediate in our experience, including, and even especially, any dukkha that may be present in the moment – these sensations, this emotion, these thoughts, and also this physical pain, this heartache, this contracted self-view – learning to see their emptiness, and then deepening and widening the range of experienced phenomena we can recognize to be empty. As we learn to let go of grosser dukkha and experiences through realizing their voidness, meditation naturally refines. Then we can work skilfully with more subtle dukkha and phenomena, and insight too becomes correspondingly subtle.
We might emphasize too the importance of kindness in meditation in general. And in particular, the gradually transformative and inexorable healing power that comes through devotion to regular loving-kindness (mettā) practice should not be underestimated. Here again, it is absolutely vital to find ways of cultivating mettā that work for you. There is no one ‘right’ way of doing that. Creativity, playfulness, and experimentation are indispensable. Often untapped, there is also an equally great power accessible in heartfully connecting with our own deepest aspirations. Self-criticism tends to squash these aspirations and obscure our connection with them. Conversely though, tuning into and sustaining a focus on the felt force of these aspirations within oneself – in ways that allow them to gather strength, and allow the being to open to that strength – can significantly undermine the dynamics of self-criticism.
As we begin to experience the liberating effects of insight and the heart is touched, the whole process starts to take on a momentum of its own. While at first these may have seemed such strange ways of looking at things, and still probably involve some effort, the mind begins to gravitate towards exposing the emptiness of this and that, of situations and perspectives that we would have solidified before. To the heart is revealed a sense of beauty in the open, space-like nature of things. More able to shift ways of looking, less locked into any perspective, it wants to see the emptiness.
For now, let us take as a loose definition of insight: any realization, understanding, or way of seeing things that brings, to any degree, a dissolution of, or a decrease in, dukkha.
Updated: Apr 28, 2023
Just knowing, for example, that dukkha, grasping, or reactivity is present is hardly ever enough to free us from it even in that moment. And it certainly will not be enough to exhaust or eradicate the latent tendencies of craving and aversion. What is needed is an understanding that cuts or melts something or other more fundamental on which that dukkha relies, thus eradicating, or at least diminishing, that dukkha.
Insight, then, may loosely be described as any ‘seeing’ that frees.
You ‘have’ or ‘get’ an insight. There is an ‘aha!’ moment: suddenly or gradually, you see something, you realize something, and it makes a difference to the dukkha. Such an insight arose as a result of mindfulness, or of qualities like calm or investigation. This mode of insight practice is in contrast to another mode in which we can also work at times, where insight itself is more a starting point, a cause, more itself the method. In this second mode of insight practice we more deliberately attempt to sustain a ‘way of looking’ at experience – a view of, or relationship with, experience – that is already informed by a certain insight or other. Here, rather than ‘getting’ (or hoping to ‘get’) an insight, we are using an insight. This does not mean merely to ‘think something insightful’, for instance that "all things are impermanent" – thinking may or may not be involved – but actually to shift into a mode where we are looking through the lens of a particular insight (looking deliberately for and at the impermanence and change in everything, for example).
Updated: May 03, 2023
Sooner or later we come to realize that perhaps the most fundamental, and most fundamentally important, fact about any experience is that it depends on the way of looking. That is to say, it is empty.4 Other than what we can perceive through different ways of looking, there is no ‘objective reality’ existing independently; and there is no way of looking that reveals some ‘objective reality’. And as we shall also see, in states of ‘just being’ which we might imagine are devoid of self, a subtle self is actually being constructed anyway.5 This fact too needs to be recognized. Generally speaking, a full conviction that all this is the case will only be available through the deepening realizations which come mostly as emptiness practices progress. It must be pointed out, however, that all that is needed right now is an acknowledgment that different ways of looking are, at least sometimes, possible. Together with a willingness to experiment with various ways of looking, and to notice their effects on dukkha and on appearances, this will be enough to gradually unfold more profound insights.
It may also be that in the past a meditator has tried at times to adopt an approach somewhat similar to what is being described here, but felt discouraged for some reason and discontinued it. Perhaps there was a feeling of quickly becoming a little tired of engaging ways of looking deliberately, and then wanting to revert to a practice of ‘just being with things as they appear’. Two things can be said about this here. First, as we shall explain, it is relatively easy to learn to minimize such fatigue – through learning the skills of subtle responsiveness to effort levels; and also through learning to include and enjoy the feelings such as release, freedom, and ease that insight ways of looking open. Second, in the context of this approach to insight, a temporary reversion to basic mindfulness practice is not necessarily a problem in itself. Significantly however, without conceiving of practice in terms of ways of looking, it will be very likely that this reversion becomes a default and de facto reversion back to the assumption of ‘being with things as they are’, without realizing it.
This mode of approach, of actively cultivating a range of skilful ways of looking, is premised, then, on the understanding that we are always and inevitably engaged in some way of looking at or relating to experience anyway. But we are not usually aware of this fact. Nor are we usually aware of how we are looking – what exactly the view is – at any time.
Now crucially, in any moment we are either engaging a way of looking at experience, self, and the world, that is creating, perpetuating, or compounding dukkha to some degree, or we are looking in a way that, to some degree, frees.
My experience in my own practice, in teaching, and in talking and listening to others, is that meditations using only the first mode of insight – that is, relying mostly on insight as a ‘result’ – will very probably not be enough on their own to overcome the force of deeply engrained habitual delusion that perceives and intuitively feels things to have inherent existence.
The overwhelming tendency is to unconsciously impute inherent existence to things, not to see emptiness. We need, therefore, to practise views that actually dissolve or remove this illusion of inherent existence.
1. A gradually deepening inquiry into fabrication – of the self and of all experience Here we are developing a certain kind of understanding of all experience, including meditation experiences. We begin by noticing the range of variability in our perceptions of self and the world. Sometimes I perceive myself or some thing one way, and at other times quite differently; and yet each time, what I perceive seems true, truly how I am, or how this thing is. What, though, is the ‘real’ way any thing is? I realize that how things appear always depends on how I look. And I realize too, moreover, that I cannot find or arrive at a way of looking that reveals how a thing really is in itself.
More than this though, as mentioned we can gradually develop ways of looking that fabricate, in this very moment, less and less dukkha. Clearly such skills will be helpful for us. The insights uncovered, however, are even more crucial. We realize, first, that dukkha depends on the way of looking. And, as briefly alluded to above, with deepening exploration we find we can discover and cultivate ways of looking that fabricate not only progressively less dukkha, but also less and less self, and eventually, as we shall explain, even less and less experience. Not to try and stay forever in some kind of unconstructed state, as if that were even possible, but to understand something wondrous about all experience in a way that fundamentally frees our whole sense of existence.
2. Realizing the impossibility of inherent existence Here we are engaging in a thorough search for the self or for the essence of any thing. Such a search in practice considers and exhausts all the possible places or ways that it might exist, and so reveals that it simply cannot exist in the way that we perceive and feel it to. We see for ourselves and our conviction grows: not only is it unfindable, but it is impossible for it to exist with inherent existence as it seems to. In these kinds of practices, the way of looking hunts for, and then exposes the lack of, inherent existence in one or all phenomena. It then works to sustain the view of that lack, that emptiness, as it continues to regard that phenomenon or all phenomena.
In addition to these two more formal groups of approaches, it is important to mention a third. For it is very possible at times that something in the heart and mind – we could call it intuitive wisdom – feels the intimations of a different sense of things, intuits somehow and to some degree the truth of emptiness. Sometimes the perspective opens up dramatically and very forcefully; at other times much more faintly – perhaps we feel a subtle quality that infuses appearances with a suggestion, a whisper, of their voidness, or even of a kind of silence, a transcendent and mystical dimension, that seems to lie ‘beyond’ those very appearances, yet that somehow ‘shines’ timelessly through them, changing our relationship with them, rendering them diaphanous, less substantial.
Vital to our path and of uncountable benefit is the quality of samādhi. This word samādhi is usually translated as ‘concentration’, but in many respects that does not convey the fullness, or the beauty, of what it really means. Therefore we shall keep it in the original language throughout this book. For samādhi involves more than just holding the attention fixed on an object with a minimum of wavering. And it certainly does not necessarily imply a spatially narrowed focus of the mind on a small area. Instead here we will emphasize that what characterizes states of samādhi is some degree of collectedness and unification of mind and body in a sense of well-being. Included in any such state will also be some degree of harmonization of the internal energies of the mind and body. Steadiness of mind, then, is only one part of that. Such a unification in well-being can come about in many ways. In this book we will embrace in our meaning of samādhi both states that have arisen through holding the attention on one object, as well as those that have arisen through insight ways of looking. And we will also include both states where the attention is more narrowly focused on one object, and those where the awareness is more open. This chapter, however, primarily explores some more general aspects of those practices that do involve holding the attention to one thing (for example, the breath, mettā, or body) as a way of developing samādhi.
And although, as the Buddha did, we can certainly delineate a range of discrete states of samādhi (the jhānas), in this present context let us rather view it mostly as a continuum: of depth of meditation, of well-being, of non-entanglement, and of refinement of consciousness. Among other benefits suitable to our purpose, there is also less chance then that the relationship with practice becomes fraught through wondering too much if one ‘has it’ or ‘doesn’t have it’, is ‘succeeding’ or ‘failing’, is ‘in’ or ‘out’. Instead of relating to samādhi practice in terms of measurement or achievement of some goal, it is usually much more helpful, more kind, and less self-alienating to conceive of it as a caring, both in the present and in the long term, for the heart and mind.
Among its many benefits, a dedication to samādhi can bring a certain ‘juiciness’ to practice and to life, and this can provide a vital resource of wholesome and profound nourishment. In particular, the well-being that it includes can be crucial. There may be times, for example, when we know it would be best to let go of an unhelpful attachment but somehow we just can’t. Perhaps at a certain level we feel somewhat desperate, and unable to imagine that we could be okay without this thing that we are clinging to. Perhaps even unconsciously we worry that letting it go would render us bereft of what we believe we need for our happiness or even our survival. If, however, we can have access to, and develop, a reservoir of profound inner well-being, it makes letting go of what is not so helpful much easier. We feel that we have enough, so letting go is not so scary. Over the long term, repeated and regular immersion in such well-being supports the emergence of a steadiness of genuine confidence. We come to know, beyond doubt, that happiness is possible for us in this life. And because this deep happiness we are experiencing is originating from within us, we begin to feel less vulnerable to and dependent on the uncertainties of changing external conditions. We may also find that a relatively frequent taste of some degree of samādhi helps our confidence in the path to become much more firmly established. Gaining confidence in these ways will have a profound effect on the sense we have of our own lives and their potential, without making us aloof.
We could in fact list a whole host of potential blessings that samādhi can bring which likewise overflow from practice well beyond the meditation session or retreat. Deep rest and rejuvenation of the whole being, emotional (and, at times, physical) healing, vitality, openings of the intuition, emotional strength that is yet pliable, increase in the heart’s capacity and in our availabilities to others, steadiness of energy and of commitment in creative and service work – these, and more, are part of the broad range of long-term benefits that samādhi can make available to the whole of one’s life. In general, to the degree that we can find ways to nourish this quality of samādhi, we will find that it nourishes us profoundly and widely in turn.
Updated: May 12, 2023
For even before the arising of any well-being or much steadiness of attention, beautiful and always helpful qualities are being strengthened and developed: patience, perseverance, and mindfulness, for example, as well as the kind of ‘muscle’ or power of mind that gradually accrues on returning over and over to our meditation theme. Hopefully too we are cultivating kindness in our attitude to our mind, and also gently erasing the habit of judging ourselves. These seeds too are being sown, and it may be that all these qualities are just as significant in the big picture of our practice as any others we have discussed. Consciously acknowledging and reminding yourself of this bigger picture of what is being nourished before a formal meditation session, and as you work on samādhi, can be very helpful in keeping the citta buoyant and inspired, and in preventing the tightness or dryness that comes when the view of practice is contracted in any way.
But it is important to recognize too that, to a certain extent, samādhi is itself also dependent on happiness. Except in rare instances, and then usually not for very long, we cannot force the mind into stilling. The process is aided more by our taking care of a certain degree of well-being that can then serve as a foundation for samādhi to develop. Thus, whether on or off retreat, it can be immensely helpful to give some attention to nurturing, just as much as possible, the kinds of elements that contribute to a climate supportive for the ongoing deepening of samādhi practice. Qualities such as: • inner and outer kindness • some simplicity • a degree of receptivity, connection, and openness to beauty and also to nature • a love of the Dharma • appreciation and gratitude for whatever and whoever is around you and supporting your practice – these may not seem relevant at first glance, but they all nourish the citta profoundly. Caring for and supporting these qualities and attitudes should not be overlooked then, for they are indispensable to the cultivation of samādhi. It is definitely not simply a matter of ‘trying harder’.
Allowing and encouraging a quality of play and experimentation in practice is vital, and vitalizing. I can’t emphasize this enough. Usually that’s how we learn best as human beings, and it keeps things from getting rigid and feeling heavy.
Central to the progress of practice, and particularly of samādhi, is our whole relationship with ‘the five hindrances’ – sense desire, ill-will or aversion, dullness and drowsiness, restlessness and worry, and doubt.
Further, if care is not taken, the habit for most is that the mind gets swept up by the perspectives of a hindrance when it is present. We believe what they say, their ‘take’ on our selves and the world. It is as if a hindrance is like a seed that has tiny hooks, and these hooks are looking for something, anything, to sink into, to suck sustenance from. When they find something, then they can grow and the whole complex of the hindrance and the thing they have hooked into grows too.
Over time though, we learn to recognize the wily ways of the hindrances and need not be taken for a ride to such an extent. We understand what is happening, and buy into their perspectives much less.
It is crucial to realize that a dedication to cultivating samādhi necessarily involves working with the hindrances.
And if we can maintain a stance that, no matter what the conditions, asks always, "What can I learn here?", the times of hindrances in samādhi practice can be as genuinely valuable as the times that feel good. As we shall shortly see, even the hindrances are useful for insight into emptiness.
A state of samādhi is essentially a state of energized calm.
Although it might feel relatively pleasant, too much calmness without enough energy is a kind of subtly dull state, sometimes referred to as ‘sinking’. The mind and the body can feel slightly heavy when this is the case and the quality of brightness is not so manifest in the mind. On the other hand, too much energy without the calm to balance it can create a subtle form of restlessness, often referred to as ‘drifting’. Here, the body does not feel so settled, the attention may skit off the object more frequently, and there seem to be more thoughts or images being thrown up by the mind. Noticing these subtler manifestations of the hindrances, and playing and experimenting to discover some of the many possible ways to energize or to calm the energy body in meditation are important strands in enabling practice to deepen.
For practitioners who already have a little experience in meditation, probably the most common difficulty and the biggest hurdle encountered in trying to develop samādhi is the feeling of tightness that can arise at times, both emotionally and physically. Indeed it is often a recurring experience of tightness that causes a person to despair and give up samādhi practice in favour of another kind of approach – usually of ‘just letting things be’.
First: Tightness is a state of contraction of the mind and body energy. So too, in fact, is any restlessness – gross or subtle (as in drifting) – and any dullness or drowsiness (including sinking). It can be very helpful, therefore, when any of these are present in samādhi practice, to find ways of opening up more space for the awareness, without abandoning the primary object. Awareness of the whole body is one way this can be effected. Even if you are working with a method of breath meditation, for example, that involves a spatially narrow focus of attention as ‘foreground’, it is often beneficial to lightly maintain, as the ‘background’ to this ‘foreground’, a global awareness permeating fully and ‘filling out’ the whole body in an alive way. Among other advantages, this will automatically introduce more of a sense of space into the meditation, which can help to ease the contraction of tightness when it arises.
Second: Tightness is usually a result of, and indicates, slightly too much effort in the concentration at that time. Similarly, a slight over-efforting can underlie both sinking and drifting. There, however, the situation can be a little more complex, because both sinking and drifting may arise at any time as a result of marginally too much effort and also of too little effort. It can be difficult to tell, for instance, whether this drifting state that is present right now is caused by ‘squeezing’ the mind slightly too hard, so that, like a gas under pressure, it actually becomes more agitated and generates even more random thoughts and images; or whether the object in our attention needs to be held a little more firmly, and with more intimacy, to prevent its wandering. Again, we need a willingness to experiment, to play and respond.
In any case, it is necessary to gradually learn to include in our awareness a sensitivity to our moment-to-moment level and quality of effort. This is part of the art of samādhi practice. Such sensitivity and responsiveness to the effort level is not something we ‘grow beyond’ and then forget about. In fact, it only gets more subtle. Nor should we expect to find, in any one meditation session, a balanced quality and level of effort and hope to keep it statically there, on ‘cruise control’, with the ‘effort dial’ set at ‘5’. Part of the refinement, and beauty too, of this art of samādhi practice is the moment-to-moment play of sensitivity and responsiveness…
What can help greatly in developing this subtler sensitivity to effort levels is, again, an awareness of the whole body and how it feels. Even a slight over-efforting the body will reveal, through tension or tightness somewhere in particular, or through a subtle sense of contraction of the space of the whole body. Relaxing the body in those moments can be helpful, helping organically to relax the effort in turn. More ease is opened in the practice in that moment, and this supports the samādhi. Additionally though, since tightness is often an indicator of a degree of over-effort, we need not view its presence only as a difficulty. We can actually use the feeling of tightness when it appears somewhere in the body as a helpful signal to slightly back off the effort in…
Updated: May 15, 2023
A light feather faintly brushing, touching so delicately the sensations of the breath or the body can take the meditation deeper at times than a laser beam of probing. Sometimes ‘less is more’.
In contrast to a concentration of the attention on a small area, another way of working is to focus primarily on the wider field of feeling of the whole body – the felt sense, the ‘texture’, ‘tone’, vibration, and energy of the whole space of the body – and to fill that space with an aliveness of awareness, of presence, that permeates the entire body. • This feeling of the energy of the whole body space can be made the sole focus of attention. • Alternatively, it may be mixed with the awareness of another object such as the breath or mettā – by paying attention to the changing effects of the breath or the mettā on the body’s energy field. • Either way, there will be a tendency for the attention thus deployed to keep shrinking to a smaller area. It will therefore be necessary to keep stretching the field of awareness out, expanding it so that attention pervades and encompasses the whole field of the body. • Oftentimes just remaining lightly, delicately open and sensitive to the whole body in this way begins to reveal a subtle pleasantness to the way the space of the body feels. It can be extremely helpful to learn to ‘tune into’ this, and to enjoy it. • Of course, many times we will find on inspection that there is a mixture of both pleasant and unpleasant ‘frequencies’, or a range of qualities, coexisting in the tone and vibration of the body space. With practice we can learn, if we wish, to tune into whichever of these frequencies we choose. Attuning to and enjoying the more pleasant frequencies in the mix is an immensely helpful skill to learn and very valuable in fostering samādhi.
Updated: May 20, 2023
And when there is a state of agitation or anxiety, we can play with ways of breathing or practising the mettā, and also ways of sensing the breath or mettā, that feel as if they soothe the subtle body and smooth out its energies. Delicately tuning into the felt experience of these qualities of soothing or smoothing-out will help them to gradually gain strength, and help the agitated energies to slowly subside.
The imagination, too, can be skilfully employed in order to gently encourage this sense of pleasure or well-being in the subtle body. While simultaneously pervading the whole body space with an awareness sensitive to the texture and tone of the energy of that whole field, it is possible, for example, to imagine the subtle body as a body of radiant light; then to open to and explore what that feels like. Any image formed in this way does not necessarily need to appear in precise detail, or even completely distinctly. It is, rather, the energetic sense of pleasure or well-being which it supports that is primary, since this is what primarily supports the samādhi.
Likewise, one may experiment with imagining various luminous lines of energy in the body – for example, between the perineum and the crown of the head, or from the lower belly out through the legs – and sense how any such line of energy supports the whole body to feel upright, open, and energized. The imagination here may be visual or kinaesthetic, or a combination of the two. And it need not always follow exactly the anatomical contours of the physical body or its posture. For instance, if sitting or kneeling with the legs crossed or bent, the luminous lines of energy imagined radiating from the lower belly or base of the spine need not bend…
If there is tension, or even pain, in one area of the body, rather than always conceiving of it in anatomical or physiological terms, it can sometimes be more helpful to conceive of and perceive that area in energetic terms, and to play with the perception of…
There are many ways we may discover to bring about some sense of energetic openness and well-being in the subtle body. And as it is accessed more and more, this altered body feeling is one that eventually we can ‘remember’ and learn to deliberately recall – to summon by a gentle intention. We can then move, usually gradually, into the focused steadiness of samādhi from that…
Whether it has arisen through being deliberately recalled, or through focusing on the breath or mettā, there are again a number of possible ways of using the sense of pleasure or comfort to help guide the citta into the unification of samādhi. • Once it is easily sustaining for some minutes, we can gently begin to take that bodily feeling of well-being as the primary object of our focus. It is important not to ‘snatch at it’, but rather to ease the attention toward it gracefully, and gradually…
• The attention can at times probe it, burrowing into one area of the pleasure, perhaps where it feels strongest. • Or, at other times, a mode of ‘receiving’ it, really trying to open up to it, can be employed. • Either way, one attempts all the while to remain intimate with its texture, and actually to relish the pleasure as much as possible. In these ways (and in others that can be discovered) we can delicately work to gently sustain the bodily feeling of well-being, and to absorb the attention more fully into it. • Alternatively, it is…
Along with the steadiness of the feelings of well-being, and of the attention on those feelings, we are also gently aiming at eventually having the whole space of the body suffused by and saturated with the feeling of well-being or pleasure. Sometimes this happens by itself.
Having said that, it is in fact also possible at times to gently encourage the feeling of pleasure or well-being to spread – for instance by simply opening up the space of the awareness to embrace a larger area of the body. Sometimes then the pleasant feeling will automatically start to expand to fill that space.
Alternatively, the breath may be used to gently ‘massage’ the sense of well-being into other areas of the body. Although there is not space to enter into a full description of possibilities here, with practice the breath energy may be felt and perceived throughout the body, entering and flowing in all kinds of ways beyond the strictly anatomical movement of air into the wind-pipe and lungs. We can learn to sense the breath energy in and through the whole body. And as alluded to earlier, the breath energy can be mixed with the pleasure, so that the perceived movements of breath in the whole body space move and spread the perception of the pleasure. • There is also, again, no reason why one cannot just imagine the feeling of well-being permeating the body space more fully. The perception then often begins to follow the image.
Mindful observation will reveal that any craving or clinging is always accompanied by, and reflected in, blocks and knots in the subtle body. Now, insight, we have said, cuts that on which dukkha depends. And dukkha depends on craving. Thus, according to our definition, insight is any way of looking that releases craving.
Updated: May 23, 2023
that I see. Attachment to the pleasure of samādhi usually only occurs if experiences of samādhi are rare. A meditator may then hanker after it unskilfully because, even if they are told they shouldn’t, and even if they know it is impermanent, they do not have the confidence that such pleasure, though not permanent, is regularly accessible. When we know we can fairly readily experience that kind of pleasure again, we naturally relax our clinging, letting it go when it dissolves.
that I see. Attachment to the pleasure of samādhi usually only occurs if experiences of samādhi are rare. A meditator may then hanker after it unskilfully because, even if they are told they shouldn’t, and even if they know it is impermanent, they do not have the confidence that such pleasure, though not permanent, is regularly accessible. When we know we can fairly readily experience that kind of pleasure again, we naturally relax our clinging, letting it go when it dissolves.
A second possible way of becoming attached to samādhi is through pride – believing that we are somehow special because we can experience, even at will, such states of bliss and peace. But this kind of pride usually does not last very long at all. With dedicated practice and a minimum of intelligent attention, a meditator sees fairly quickly that samādhi is essentially dependent on the right conditions coming together in the mind and body.
A second possible way of becoming attached to samādhi is through pride – believing that we are somehow special because we can experience, even at will, such states of bliss and peace. But this kind of pride usually does not last very long at all. With dedicated practice and a minimum of intelligent attention, a meditator sees fairly quickly that samādhi is essentially dependent on the right conditions coming together in the mind and body.
The third and, as mentioned, most insidious way that meditation can provide an object of attachment pertains as much to states of insight meditation as it does to states of samādhi. For there can easily arise attachment to the view opened up or implied through any state or insight.
The third and, as mentioned, most insidious way that meditation can provide an object of attachment pertains as much to states of insight meditation as it does to states of samādhi. For there can easily arise attachment to the view opened up or implied through any state or insight.
None of the views that are implied or impressed upon us through any of these states, however, (and certainly none of those states themselves), is complete in the depth and comprehensiveness of its insight. None is the final truth. Though necessarily relying on these awesome perceptions and openings and the partial understandings they bring, we will still need to understand just how exactly they are fabricated. It is this that will deliver for us the fuller understanding of the emptiness of all things. And it is to the very beginning practices of this journey of understanding that we now turn.
None of the views that are implied or impressed upon us through any of these states, however, (and certainly none of those states themselves), is complete in the depth and comprehensiveness of its insight. None is the final truth. Though necessarily relying on these awesome perceptions and openings and the partial understandings they bring, we will still need to understand just how exactly they are fabricated. It is this that will deliver for us the fuller understanding of the emptiness of all things. And it is to the very beginning practices of this journey of understanding that we now turn.
Especially when supported by a devotion to cultivating samādhi, the meditation practices that reveal just how experience is fabricated are immensely powerful. So too are those practices that expose the impossibility of any thing’s inherent existence. When developed, such practices are capable of cutting through the reifications of avijjā at the deepest levels and with respect to all things. All possible notions of self and all phenomena can thus be seen to be empty, including even those which seem to be the most fundamental givens of existence – awareness, space, time and the present moment, for instance – where subtle reification is usually unrecognized and unquestioningly entrenched.
Especially when supported by a devotion to cultivating samādhi, the meditation practices that reveal just how experience is fabricated are immensely powerful. So too are those practices that expose the impossibility of any thing’s inherent existence. When developed, such practices are capable of cutting through the reifications of avijjā at the deepest levels and with respect to all things. All possible notions of self and all phenomena can thus be seen to be empty, including even those which seem to be the most fundamental givens of existence – awareness, space, time and the present moment, for instance – where subtle reification is usually unrecognized and unquestioningly entrenched.
But there are many situations in life where a significant degree of dukkha can be released through recognizing voidnesses that are not so hard to see at all. Through just a small shift in, or refinement of, our way of looking we realize that some element or other involved is a fabrication, and that it has no inherent existence.
But there are many situations in life where a significant degree of dukkha can be released through recognizing voidnesses that are not so hard to see at all. Through just a small shift in, or refinement of, our way of looking we realize that some element or other involved is a fabrication, and that it has no inherent existence.
The whole area of social conventions is one in which we can experience all kinds of suffering. Yet often with just a little reflection we can recognize the emptiness of some convention that we have reified, and this realization can bring some freedom.
The whole area of social conventions is one in which we can experience all kinds of suffering. Yet often with just a little reflection we can recognize the emptiness of some convention that we have reified, and this realization can bring some freedom.
It will probably be helpful in fact. But when the patently fabricated nature of countries is not recognized, the concept of ‘this country’, or ‘my country’, can gain an overwhelming force and solidity in human minds. The belief in the country as something real can give rise to a strength and rigidity of feeling beyond even the biological impulse for survival. How much violence and suffering in human history has there been with roots in this reification? How much willingness to kill and to die dependent on such a belief?
It will probably be helpful in fact. But when the patently fabricated nature of countries is not recognized, the concept of ‘this country’, or ‘my country’, can gain an overwhelming force and solidity in human minds. The belief in the country as something real can give rise to a strength and rigidity of feeling beyond even the biological impulse for survival. How much violence and suffering in human history has there been with roots in this reification? How much willingness to kill and to die dependent on such a belief?
Although not always easy to recognize, it is important to acknowledge too how often our opinions and our feelings about many things are conditioned by the views prevalent in the society we live in. Particularly significant in this regard is the conditioning of our sense of values, and thus also of our sense of what is valuable. In itself, cultural conditioning is not necessarily wrong. But it matters what we are ‘taught’ in this way. We are exposed to almost incessant messages from our society about what is of value, and much of this, while actually not serving our genuine happiness, is also more insidiously powerful than we might assume. The endless tidal-wave of advertising that manipulates values and desires, and thus culture, in consumerist economies is only one, glaringly obvious, example.
Although not always easy to recognize, it is important to acknowledge too how often our opinions and our feelings about many things are conditioned by the views prevalent in the society we live in. Particularly significant in this regard is the conditioning of our sense of values, and thus also of our sense of what is valuable. In itself, cultural conditioning is not necessarily wrong. But it matters what we are ‘taught’ in this way. We are exposed to almost incessant messages from our society about what is of value, and much of this, while actually not serving our genuine happiness, is also more insidiously powerful than we might assume. The endless tidal-wave of advertising that manipulates values and desires, and thus culture, in consumerist economies is only one, glaringly obvious, example.
Fifteen thousand years ago, my prowess as a hunter of woolly mammoths would probably have accorded me more status in the culture than my ability to handle the kinds of abstract mathematical concepts involved, for example, in twelfth grade differential calculus. I need to see: one is not inherently more valuable than another; I am not inherently worth more or less dependent on these abilities. If I can see this, I open a door to a more natural sense of self-worth, and to a degree of freedom.
Fifteen thousand years ago, my prowess as a hunter of woolly mammoths would probably have accorded me more status in the culture than my ability to handle the kinds of abstract mathematical concepts involved, for example, in twelfth grade differential calculus. I need to see: one is not inherently more valuable than another; I am not inherently worth more or less dependent on these abilities. If I can see this, I open a door to a more natural sense of self-worth, and to a degree of freedom.
There are probably countless examples, large and small, where it is possible to shake off the shackles of the dominant view and expose a lack of intrinsic truth to some assumption or ideology that may be widely agreed on in our social world. Sometimes the belief in a value system is shattered in an instant of penetrating insight. Other times it is melted away more gradually. Either way, although undoubtedly we do not need meditation to reflect in the kinds of ways described, it does take a certain boldness to trust in one’s own capacity to question views and to think for oneself. And while these qualities of boldness and trust are dependent on and empowered by many factors, let us mention a couple which may actually be supported by a more meditative approach. The first is including in one’s awareness the sense of strength as it manifests in the body. This sense can often be neglected, especially if we are not accustomed to having faith in ourselves in this way. But noticing, allowing, inhabiting, and even enjoying the bodily feelings that accompany the sense of confidence in our own seeing will greatly help that conviction, self-trust, and strength to take root and flourish in the being. Even if these bodily feelings are only fleeting at first, it can be a significant step in their consolidation to learn to open to them in this way. Then as our sense of strength and independence grows, it becomes easier for us to see that, just because most people around us believe it, we don’t have to fall for any view that has solidified and raised what is only a convention to the status of an objective truth. Connected to this, the second helpful element is a skilful awareness, and holding, of any difficult emotions that are evoked by what is being considered. In order for freedom to be possible, it is vital not to ignore feelings such as anger, hurt, or powerlessness that may be associated with an issue being reflected on. Such emotions may well need caring for, in various ways, as part of the process of liberating the mind. Equally though, it is important not to sink in feelings like these, or to be consistently overwhelmed by them, or pulled down into a state where there is no space or opportunity for creative responses and movements of mind.
There are probably countless examples, large and small, where it is possible to shake off the shackles of the dominant view and expose a lack of intrinsic truth to some assumption or ideology that may be widely agreed on in our social world. Sometimes the belief in a value system is shattered in an instant of penetrating insight. Other times it is melted away more gradually. Either way, although undoubtedly we do not need meditation to reflect in the kinds of ways described, it does take a certain boldness to trust in one’s own capacity to question views and to think for oneself. And while these qualities of boldness and trust are dependent on and empowered by many factors, let us mention a couple which may actually be supported by a more meditative approach. The first is including in one’s awareness the sense of strength as it manifests in the body. This sense can often be neglected, especially if we are not accustomed to having faith in ourselves in this way. But noticing, allowing, inhabiting, and even enjoying the bodily feelings that accompany the sense of confidence in our own seeing will greatly help that conviction, self-trust, and strength to take root and flourish in the being. Even if these bodily feelings are only fleeting at first, it can be a significant step in their consolidation to learn to open to them in this way. Then as our sense of strength and independence grows, it becomes easier for us to see that, just because most people around us believe it, we don’t have to fall for any view that has solidified and raised what is only a convention to the status of an objective truth. Connected to this, the second helpful element is a skilful awareness, and holding, of any difficult emotions that are evoked by what is being considered. In order for freedom to be possible, it is vital not to ignore feelings such as anger, hurt, or powerlessness that may be associated with an issue being reflected on. Such emotions may well need caring for, in various ways, as part of the process of liberating the mind. Equally though, it is important not to sink in feelings like these, or to be consistently overwhelmed by them, or pulled down into a state where there is no space or opportunity for creative responses and movements of mind.
Practice: Opening to freedom and strength through reflection Take a little time to settle in meditation. Then see if it is possible to allow, and to tune into, a sense of energetic alignment along the central axis of the body. Feel the strength that comes from this alignment of energy, including the body as a whole in your awareness. (Alternatively, you could think of something which stimulates a sense of strength in you, then tune into the feeling of energy in the body that is present, and allow that to align the body sense.) Let yourself enjoy it for some time if you like. Trying to stay connected to, and supported by, this sense of strength and alignment in the body as much as you are able, begin to reflect on your life and your social environment, asking yourself if there are any values or beliefs that you have absorbed from the culture and from your social environment that are contributing to suffering of some sort and that might be questionable. Notice, allow, and feel as fully as you can any emotional and energetic responses to what you see, and notice also the mental responses. If it seems that something arises emotionally that needs holding and attention before continuing, take time to do that now. When you feel ready, see if it is possible to reflect in a way that challenges this belief, or that recognizes it is not inherently true. Perhaps you can uncover the assumptions it rests on, or expose it as merely an agreed-upon conventionality. Again, as you do this, notice, allow, and feel as fully as you can any emotional, energetic, and mental responses. Especially with regard to any sense of strength that may surface, it might be important to try to let go of any preconceptions about what it should feel like. Strength can have a softness and pliancy to it; it need not feel brittle at all. Then if any feeling of strength and/or freedom arises, see if you can allow that to fill out in the body, and enjoy it. (It can be particularly helpful to feel the quality of strength filling the lower belly and the legs.) Let yourself linger in any feelings of strength or freedom that emerge. If strong anger arises, is it possible to find the quality of strength within the anger, and to tune into that, thus helping it to become a more wholesome emotion? If grief or sadness arise, what does it feel like they need right now?…
Practice: Opening to freedom and strength through reflection Take a little time to settle in meditation. Then see if it is possible to allow, and to tune into, a sense of energetic alignment along the central axis of the body. Feel the strength that comes from this alignment of energy, including the body as a whole in your awareness. (Alternatively, you could think of something which stimulates a sense of strength in you, then tune into the feeling of energy in the body that is present, and allow that to align the body sense.) Let yourself enjoy it for some time if you like. Trying to stay connected to, and supported by, this sense of strength and alignment in the body as much as you are able, begin to reflect on your life and your social environment, asking yourself if there are any values or beliefs that you have absorbed from the culture and from your social environment that are contributing to suffering of some sort and that might be questionable. Notice, allow, and feel as fully as you can any emotional and energetic responses to what you see, and notice also the mental responses. If it seems that something arises emotionally that needs holding and attention before continuing, take time to do that now. When you feel ready, see if it is possible to reflect in a way that challenges this belief, or that recognizes it is not inherently true. Perhaps you can uncover the assumptions it rests on, or expose it as merely an agreed-upon conventionality. Again, as you do this, notice, allow, and feel as fully as you can any emotional, energetic, and mental responses. Especially with regard to any sense of strength that may surface, it might be important to try to let go of any preconceptions about what it should feel like. Strength can have a softness and pliancy to it; it need not feel brittle at all. Then if any feeling of strength and/or freedom arises, see if you can allow that to fill out in the body, and enjoy it. (It can be particularly helpful to feel the quality of strength filling the lower belly and the legs.) Let yourself linger in any feelings of strength or freedom that emerge. If strong anger arises, is it possible to find the quality of strength within the anger, and to tune into that, thus helping it to become a more wholesome emotion? If grief or sadness arise, what does it feel like they need right now?…
And although I could, I need not conceive of myself as ‘The Resident Teacher’ as I am simply walking down the corridor, or reading a book, or sitting on the toilet. Even if I tried, I would probably forget at times! If I pay attention, I see there are countless such ‘holes’ – moments and stretches in any day when I am not, and do not have to be, ‘The Resident Teacher’. And I can also see that this role is actually only one of the various roles I have in my life at present. I am at times a friend to friends who have nothing to do with Gaia House, or even the Dharma; at other times I am a musician, a poet, a writer, a citizen, a neighbour, a brother, a son, an uncle, a room cleaner, an activist, a cook… So easily one role gets over-emphasized in an unwise way and we contract around it in identification. It becomes charged for us then, and it may begin to feel like a painful weight. Opening out the seeing to recognize the wider context can open out the contraction, so that vitality, interest, and creativity can flow more freely and widely. The psychology involved here is not often simple, but in addition to acknowledging the life in other roles, this seeing of the ‘holes’ in any role can be immensely helpful in exposing its lack of solidity. By seeing these gaps, we burst a bubble we’ve believed in and felt constricted by, and reveal a spaciousness in which we can then move more freely. We find that it is very possible to be fully committed to the responsibilities a role entails, and to feel profoundly the sense of meaningfulness it may have for us, without solidifying or over-identifying with that role.
And although I could, I need not conceive of myself as ‘The Resident Teacher’ as I am simply walking down the corridor, or reading a book, or sitting on the toilet. Even if I tried, I would probably forget at times! If I pay attention, I see there are countless such ‘holes’ – moments and stretches in any day when I am not, and do not have to be, ‘The Resident Teacher’. And I can also see that this role is actually only one of the various roles I have in my life at present. I am at times a friend to friends who have nothing to do with Gaia House, or even the Dharma; at other times I am a musician, a poet, a writer, a citizen, a neighbour, a brother, a son, an uncle, a room cleaner, an activist, a cook… So easily one role gets over-emphasized in an unwise way and we contract around it in identification. It becomes charged for us then, and it may begin to feel like a painful weight. Opening out the seeing to recognize the wider context can open out the contraction, so that vitality, interest, and creativity can flow more freely and widely. The psychology involved here is not often simple, but in addition to acknowledging the life in other roles, this seeing of the ‘holes’ in any role can be immensely helpful in exposing its lack of solidity. By seeing these gaps, we burst a bubble we’ve believed in and felt constricted by, and reveal a spaciousness in which we can then move more freely. We find that it is very possible to be fully committed to the responsibilities a role entails, and to feel profoundly the sense of meaningfulness it may have for us, without solidifying or over-identifying with that role.