Don't Loose Your Wits
by Ajahn Siripanna
What are we doing? Are we using practice as a daily sedative? Is it helping
us to wake up, or are we using it to put ourselves to sleep and dissociate from experience?
In this Dhamma talk given at Hartridge Buddhist Monastery, in May 1998, Ajahn
Siripanna offers some reflections to encourage an attitude of careful discernment
in regard to practice.
The practice of meditation can be summed up as bringing a whole-hearted
and non-interfering attention to the present reality of each moment. When we enter
into a learning relationship with the moment we can come to see clearly how to make
a light-hearted peace with our lives.
It can be comforting to hear that in essence the path is just that simple;
and yet it is and it isn't. Although we are trying to make our way back home to that
pure simplicity of being with life, getting there involves a certain amount of doing.
We can have a feeling that we shouldn't have to do anything: "I'll just sit
here and open up and gradually everything will become clear." There can be either
a kind of passivity, a lack of resourcefulness, or perhaps a fear - doing just increases
the sense of self, doesn't it?
So we have to understand how to pick up and use techniques and reflective
frameworks - the `doing-ness' of the practice — as a useful vehicle, a raft. We have
to gain practical skills in raft making; we have to get on the raft; we have to figure
out how to sail it; how to get off the sandbank; how to stop being swept down the
river; and finally, hopefully, how to be able to let go of our raft when we get to
the other shore.
Sometimes we'd like someone else to do it all for us. There is a little bit
in most of us that wants some great big Mummy or Daddy to come along and sort us
out. A guru perhaps. You go to them and they just emanate, and something happens
to you. That would be nice, wouldn't it? Or, maybe you want them to tell you what
your problems are and how to solve them. "Please could you tell me what I'm
like?" We can get quite excited if somebody we respect tells us something about
ourselves. "Oh, thank you! What should I do about it?" They tell you and
then you think, "I really know what to do now. Great." There is that inclination
in us not to want to bother making the effort to figure it out for ourselves. But
what happens if you can't find that all-knowing person? And even if you have found
them, what if they've got it wrong? Even if they've got it right, what happens if
you're just happy to believe that, and you don't actually find out for yourself if
it's true? It is difficult to find someone trustworthy to take that role in our lives,
and then there are potential difficulties in using such a relationship in a way which
is actually liberating.
The Buddha didn't offer us this option. He offered a very practical Do-It-Yourself
path, it requires that we take responsibility for our own practice; we have do the
work ourselves. Actually, any teaching that take us to release of the heart requires
the same demanding self-inquiry, but the Buddha was particularly up front about it.
It's good to know where we stand, because then we're not going to be disappointed
or confused if things don't work out. We fully take responsibility for the fact that
if we only make a little bit of effort we're only going to get a meagre result; if
we make a lot of effort we'll get a better result and if we make a courageous and
wholehearted effort we'll get a correspondingly abundant result.
Intelligent, resourceful self-assessment of what we are doing is crucial.
Sometimes we might feel that other people see us better than we do — certainly this
can be true at times but overall, we're the ones who can know what's going on. We're
the ones who have to be honest with ourselves. We are in the best position to be
able to understand our own experience, and that understanding arises from our interested
and attentive inquiry. It can't arise simply from reading books, or from memorising
inspiring poems, or from someone else's Dhamma talks. It's not that we shouldn't
read, or memorise poems, or listen to Dhamma talks, but we need to realise that they're
only pointing towards the way.
Second-hand knowledge is probably one of the biggest obstacles to the clarity
and awareness needed for insight to arise. The Buddha understood this and brilliantly
framed his teaching in a way which minimises the opportunity for grasping at ideals.
His whole teaching undermines our attempts to hold on to notions of what we should
be, and how we should get there. He probably said less about the goal of the spiritual
path than any other religious teacher. He realised that as soon as we get an idea
about it, then that's something we're ambitious for and struggling to grab hold of.
If we do that, all we end up with is second-hand knowledge; we don't have the experience
itself. As an ideal, the goal of the Buddha's teaching may not immediately seem uplifting
and inspiring. He is pointing to what the truth is not; helping us see beyond all
our greed, our aversion and our confusion, until through gradual distillation, the
truth shines through.
But we have to keep our wits about us. Now where are our wits? They are
in our heart, in our head, in our guts, they're in our very bones. I'm not talking
about a kind of cunning, or something that is dependent upon IQ or education, but
rather the real understanding and clarity which come from being fully present in
the body and in the mind, experiencing it all in a fresh way. We each have to find
out for ourselves how to relax back into this natural intelligence which can really
assess our experience, and which has an overview of how we're working with what arises.
Where is it taking me to? Is this helping me? Is my life getting better? Am I becoming
more relaxed? Am I feeling more ease, more confidence? Am I feeling more depressed,
more despairing? If so, is it a healthy depression or despair, or is it destructive?
There are obviously times when some people would really benefit from a
bit of skilled support from others if it enables them to open constructively to pain
which cannot, for whatever reason, be addressed alone. Talking with a good spiritual
friend can also be valuable - we all have blind spots which are very difficult to
see by ourselves. Nevertheless, a good teacher, guide or friend will eventually fling
us back upon our own resources. We might be given some helpful pointers, but then
it's a pat on the back, and on we go. If we want our practice to bear fruit we have
to realise for ourselves the spacious intelligence of the non-attached mind, where
nothing is taken for granted and we begin to see through all the second-hand ideas
and habits, the staleness and assumptions which prevent clear vision.
Consider the use of meditation techniques; these, can be very useful. When
we first start to practise we discover that our minds are amok with a cascade of
thoughts, moods, drives, impulses most people are quite shocked by this. How to make
sense of it all? The various techniques can help us feel we know what to do. At first
that's very valuable because if we're too confused we can give up, or we just don't
know where to put our attention so nothing much comes from our practice. Mindfulness
with breathing, body-sweeping and other ways of systematically bringing the attention
back to the present moment are very helpful if we understand how to relate to them
properly. But we do have to keep our wits about us. What are we doing? Are we using
practice as a daily sedative? Is it helping us to wake up, or are we using it to
put ourselves to sleep and dissociate from experience? Is it working? Sometimes people
plug away numbly for years or decades at some technique: "I've been doing this
for 30 years and I don't think I've learned a thing." Why didn't they stop?
I've heard somebody say this; they were obviously doing something wrong. They were
not applying this kind of assessment: "What am I doing? Why am I doing it? What
is the result?"
Then, you get conflicting meditation instructions. One teacher says keep
your eyes open; another says keep them closed. "Sister, should I keep my eyes
open when I practise or should I keep them closed? Could you just give me your opinion?"
Well, why don't you find out for yourself? Keep them open for a while and see what
happens; and then try keeping them closed. Find out for yourself what the difference
is, and you'll know for sure. If you know for yourself it gives you a confidence
- you know why you're doing things, and you know what the result is.
"Should I do body sweeping? Or should I do Mettaa (loving-kindness)
practice? Or should I do mindfulness with breathing? And, if I do mindfulness with
breathing, should I do it just as a concentration exercise or should try and develop
the four tetrads of the Anaapaanasati Sutta? Ajahn so-and-so says you should
adjust the breath and make it comfortable, but Ajahn Chah said you should never interfere
with the breath. Now, who is right?" At first it's best to follow the advice
of the particular teacher or tradition that you're close to. Don't muddle things
up too much. But, when you really know what happens when you practise different techniques
then have the confidence to experiment.
We can be very unadventurous. It feels safe and easy to snuggle down into
a meditation habit, and say, "OK, that's my meditation." To bring new life
to our practice it can be good to try different things out, to take the risk of not
knowing what we're doing for a while; this can be particularly helpful if we feel
stuck. There was one person who always had this pressure in their head when they
practised mindfulness with breathing, and they said, "I can't really feel my
nose." I asked: "Well, how long have you been doing this?" and they
said, "Years and years." I said, "Well, why don't you try focusing
somewhere else?" "What! But I thought you had to meditate at your nose."
What's the use of that if it's not working? It's just a means to focus the mind;
if it makes your head explode, try focusing somewhere else.
Dare to think, could you be your own teacher? Could you be the one who
knows best? Could you make up your own MI>mettaa - loving-kindness - meditation?
Surely we have to do one that's been printed in a book or given to us by an experienced
meditation teacher? But maybe the way I teach mettaa practice is going to
be hopeless for you. "I'd better read Ajahn Sumedho's books, I should try his
one." Maybe his isn't right for you either. The Buddha didn't actually give
many detailed instructions on mettaa. He said: "Even as a mother protects
with her life her child, her only child, so with a boundless heart should we cherish
all living beings; radiating kindness over the entire world, spreading upwards to
the skies and downwards to the depths, outwards and unbounded, freed from hatred
and ill will." That's about it. He left people to figure it out for themselves.
"Oh, how do I do that?" Well, it's good to think that; it's good not to
know. That'll get you interested, and help to awaken your own intelligence.
The danger of any religious tradition is that we simply follow the established
way of doing things and surrender our natural ability to review and assess what we're
doing and to learn from our successes and failures. But we need those resources because
there is nobody around who is going to do that for us. Don't surrender your most
precious treasure. That doesn't mean that we should be arrogant and conceited, either,
and just say "I'm doing it my way, thank you," Because there is often something
to be learned from the experience of people who've been practising a long time. We
should at least listen with an open mind; but listen with our wits turned on. Then
we can try things out and find out for ourselves.
Develop skilful means. What are we trying to do? We're remembering to be
awake now at every moment. So we're remembering to be awake in the shower, we're
remembering to be awake in bed, we're remembering to be awake when we're eating,
when we're cleaning, when we're working, whatever we're doing. Now that's a lot of
situations. A lot of different things sweep us away, so ask: "Where do I always
fall down? Where am I always going off? Is it when I'm talking? Is it when I'm working?
Is it everything?" It's probably everything! But at least we know. Once we've
had a really good look and evaluated it, we know where we're starting. We need to
get to know our own personal ways, our own personal tape-loops, and the places where
we get hooked, and start to blame. There needs to be this freshness, this ability
to step back and have a clear look at how we relate to life, to people and to our
own mind.
Once we know ourselves a bit better we are able to learn how to counterbalance
our own tendencies; what I need to do is going to be totally different to what each
of you need to do. One person, for example, might be very uptight and if they go
on a retreat, they might want to get up at 2.30 a.m. - one hour of yoga and then
sit, walk, sit, walk, sit, and then maybe five minutes of rest and then sit, walk,
sit, walk, until night time, and feel great. But actually, maybe it would be better
for them just to relax - sit on the balcony and look at the birds. Maybe that would
counterbalance the driven-ness and need for structure.
A person who is reflecting would take a look at that. What's the natural tendency?
Then you can choose the most skilful response. It is not automatic that one should
always go against one's natural inclination, but you have to know what it is so that
you're taking it into account; then you can either keep a look out to make sure that
it's not obsessing you or, perhaps, try going against it to learn from that experiment.
And then another person thinks "Oh, well, you know they always say we should
relax. Now, I feel a little tense if I get up before 9.00 a.m. so I'm going to take
it easy." You probably need to get up at 2.30 a.m... or at least 8.00 a.m! Know
where your edge is, know where you're going to lose your ability to be skilful, to
be awake. Find ways of extending that edge just by experimenting, by challenging
yourself a little bit, by going against the grain. It's very energising and invigorating
if we take our own needs into account. It really helps us to feel that we've got
something worth doing that is interesting to us, and it's very personal because it's
coming from our own motivation.
In balancing the mind out, the basic frameworks that the Buddha taught
are very useful. Just simple frameworks like the Five Spiritual Faculties: Saddhaa
is a heart quality - a receptivity, a willingness to be open, to take a leap and
to let go of certainty. At the opposite end of the spectrum, Panna - intuitive
wisdom or discernment, is the evaluating mind. We have to learn to juggle the two
so that the mind is not always stuck onto focusing and picking things apart which
is quite a clinical and heartless experience. Another pair to counterbalance is Samaadhi
- collectedness or concentration, and Viriya - energy, which, in excess,
leads to us being scattered and unfocused. We notice - in our life, in our day, in
our formal meditation - how much concentration is there? Does it need to be more
emphasised? Or is it getting so close against the window-pane that we can't see the
wood for the trees? When our mind is half-concentrated, but without any discernment
or energy in it, we can end up feeling like an over-cooked pudding or a tree stump.
If we recognise this we can inject some vigour by investigating something. We need
to learn to know our tendencies to bring ourselves into balance. The overall balancing
faculty is mindfulness. The Spiritual Faculties can help us evaluate ourselves and
our practice, to notice where we're going right and where we're going wrong.
Develop skilful means, what we call Upayas - personal means that
help you in your determination to be awake. Evaluate the way you relate to the teachings,
the way that you relate to techniques, what you're using them for. Try something
different if you think that would be good. Give it a good trial though - don't just
bounce around doing one thing and then another, never trying anything with enough
commitment to produce results. It's like digging a well; you'll never find water
by digging 100 little holes. If you find the right place you just need to keep digging
and you'll eventually reach the water. If you like, once you've found water in once
place you can start digging another well and increase your resources. But remember
- keep your wits about you!
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