Into the Heart of Life (17 page)

Shamatha, or calm abiding

Usually, our minds are very agitated by the six senses—by sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touch, and by the sixth sense of mind itself, with its thoughts, judgments, memories, ideas, and opinions. All this churns up the mind continually. And because of this, we do not see things clearly. We do not reflect the external environment as it really is. We only get our version, our interpretation of what is happening, which is distorted by all this turmoil that is going on inside us. We respond only to our rendition, our interpretation of what is happening, not to the actuality itself. When we try to look into the mind itself, it is so churned up that we cannot yet look beyond the surface thoughts, the surface chatter. Through shamatha meditation, the mind begins to quieten down. The outer senses are no longer so reactive. And the inner sixth sense, the mind itself, becomes very tranquil, calm, and one-pointed. It becomes clear. And when it is clear the mind sees very accurately because it is no longer interpreting. At the same time, we are able to use that calm, one-pointed mind to look in on itself and see through increasingly subtle layers of the psyche. Therefore, this first attaining of a state of calm, single-pointedness is really quite important. One lama said to me that if we have a good shamatha practice, then all the Dharma is in the palm of our hands.

Whatever practice we are doing, if we do it with a distracted mind then it is not going to work. There are books that tell us that even if we were to say a mantra for one hundred aeons, if we say it with a distracted mind we would not accomplish the goal. But if we say even a few mantras with a mind that is really concentrated and merged in the practice, then results will come very quickly. Therefore, it is worthwhile to train our mind—as much as we can—to become quiet, focused, and calm. This is stage number one. Our practice does not end here.

When the Buddha left his palace to seek answers to the causes and problems of suffering, he first studied under two yogis. Now these yogis were teaching a kind of shamatha practice. Traditionally, in shamatha practice, there are many levels: there are lower material levels, and there are higher formless, or immaterial, levels. In these formless levels, there is no thinking as such. There is infinity of space, infinity of consciousness, neither perception nor non-perception, and nothing whatsoever. It is a very refined state of mind, and it is the ultimate state of nothingness. There is neither consciousness nor no consciousness. During the Buddha’s time, this was regarded as liberation. The Buddha accomplished this state quickly, but he said it was not liberation, as this state was still within the realm of birth and death. The practitioner had not gone beyond. And so he left those yogis and wandered forth.

So why is this not liberation? This kind of meditation, although very important as preparation, if indulged in too much could be counterproductive. Sometimes practitioners enter into blissful states and think they are liberated; everything is so clear. But what can happen is that the state of bliss can act as a shield which hides one’s negative emotions. One’s delusions, greed, lust, anger, and ill-will are all still lying latent. This is very dangerous because it deludes us into thinking that we are much more spiritually advanced than we are and that all our negative emotions have been eradicated. We can imagine that we no longer have any negative emotions because we are in this state of bliss and clarity where everything is one and it is all very wonderful. We look, and we can’t see anything negative because it has been covered up; but the defilements are all there, growing underneath, and if the opportunity arises, they erupt, often uncontrollably. These negative emotions are intensified because the mind has become so powerful. Although these delusions have been covered over, when they do erupt, they are that much more dangerous than they could ever be in an ordinary untrained mind. There are many troubling contemporary examples of this amongst certain gurus, but these situations are usually concealed by their disciples. We can get into this state where all seems absolutely perfect, but actually the deeply rooted problem has never been resolved. When it comes back again, it is all the more difficult to control.

There is also the problem of remaining in and being attached to the state of calmness. We can get attached to anything, and this is ultimately an obstacle. However, as the first step, it is very important to develop this quality of getting the mind calmed down and one-pointed. There are many ways of doing this. It is important when we start to meditate that it not be regarded as a kind of endurance test.

We can think of the mind as being like a wild horse, and there are basically two ways to deal with the problem of taming it. We can catch it and beat it into submission, forcing it to carry out our own will, and eventually the horse will break down and become docile. What we have then is a broken hack which is sad and resentful. Sometimes in India we can see such horses. They’re pulling carriages, and we know that is the way they’ve been treated. They are very unhappy, dejected animals who try whatever they can to get away from their labors but they get beaten back into submission again. However, there is another way. We can try to tame the horse through more gentle means by slowly, enticingly, and gradually trying to win the horse’s good will. Quieting the horse’s fear, we let him know that nothing bad will happen. Patiently we win him over, until eventually he begins to trust us, willing from his side to do what we want.

Likewise, there are two approaches to taming the mind. One is that we really force the mind through long sitting sessions, not moving for a moment, and coercing it into being concentrated. And that can work. Either we get a mind which maybe never wants to meditate again or our mind feels so triumphant from having been able to sit and concentrate, unmoving, for hours and hours on end that it is willing to go on.

But generally it is more skillful the way my teacher taught, which is to win the cooperation of the mind. If we are watching an interesting movie or television program, or if we are reading a fascinating book, nobody has to coerce us into concentrating. We are there, we are absorbed, we are merged with it, the hours go by and we haven’t even noticed. Our mind is very one-pointed.

We all have the capacity to be one-pointed and absorbed, concentrated on one stream of events. Our challenge is to bring that kind of interest and absorption into something which is not initially absolutely fascinating, like observing the in-going and out-going of the breath, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, year after year.

Therefore, if one has never practiced much before, it is a good idea to start with short sessions. This is because when we actually start meditating, if we begin to get more concentrated and calm then that’s fine. If we stop just when we are still enjoying the practice and we could still go a little bit more, then our minds remember that that was fun and we are willing to try again. If we push too far, then the mind becomes tired and we lose our concentration. If we keep pushing, the next time when we sit, the mind will remember that it felt tired and bored and there will be a sense of aversion. We are not trying to battle the mind. This is not a matter of subjugation, of beating down the mind until it finally obeys. It is a matter of encouraging the mind to cooperate and to realize that there is genuine happiness in being calm, one-pointed, and clear. The initial difficulties are the inner distractions which we experience, which are really no problem as they can be utilized as part of the process.

People imagine that when they sit down to meditate they should immediately be able to access deep levels of silence, calm, and one-pointedness, but when they sit down and discover that they seem to have more thoughts than normal, they become very discouraged. Everybody more or less experiences the same problems. I am sure even the Lord Buddha himself never just sat down and immediately had no thoughts. If that had been so, he could never have taught meditation because he wouldn’t have known the problems. But as he talked so much about the difficulties of meditation, it seems he must have experienced them.

Everyone has problems, everyone has difficulties, and those who are finally accomplished are those who persevere. But sometimes, if we feel we can’t do it, it helps to keep the sessions not too long. We practice, and then rest the mind, and start again; we practice, and then rest the mind, and start again. Gradually, the mind begins to acclimatize. It’s like physical exercises. If we want to do yoga or aerobics and we start off by doing a two-hour session and we have never exercised before, then we either collapse during the session, or else we are unable to move the next day. Of course we can’t move because everything aches! We think, “Oh yoga, don’t even mention that.” We don’t want to try again. But if we do a short session, stretching as far as we can but not too far, we think, “That’s not too bad, let’s try again.” We carry on, and the sessions get longer and longer, and before we know it, those exercises which the more advanced yoga students were doing and which seemed so impossible, suddenly we can do them, too.

Why should it not be the same with the mind which is totally untrained? Of course at the beginning there will be problems and resistance. So we need to be skillful. We need to reassure the mind. “This is genuine refuge for the mind. This is a wonderful thing! If my mind can become even a little more calm, a little more quiet, centered, focused, and one-pointed—oh, this is where happiness lies, this is the way!” We have to keep going, on and on. At some sessions the mind begins to cooperate; everything is much easier and nice and calm. Now we’ve got it, we think, only to find with the next session that our thoughts are completely all over the place. But it is all right. There is no problem. If the mind wants to be wild and distracted, just let it be wild and distracted, but slowly pull it back—that’s the way to go.

Of course the mind has thoughts; it’s the nature of the mind to have thoughts. If we think of the mind as like the ocean, then the surface of the ocean has waves. No problem. If we think of the mind as like the sky, then the sky has clouds. So don’t worry about the thoughts! Let them go, without giving them any energy. Apart from the fact that the mind has thoughts, there are basically two problems we encounter in our practice. The first one is called drowsiness, or sinking. This means when we sit, we begin to feel very sleepy—that’s gross sinking, and very common. When the great eleventh-century Tibetan yogi Milarepa started to meditate, he placed a lighted butter lamp on his head. So he obviously had his problems, too. A friend of mine used a small bowl filled to the brim with water on her head. These are just ways to keep us from not nodding off! We have to be inventive and not give in to drowsiness.

Subtle sinking is more dangerous because it’s less obvious. We can get into a state which is calm and peaceful, but with little awareness, and we can sit like that for hours. A genuine meditative mind is very relaxed and spacious but totally alert, very bright and clear. So if we are in a state where we are very calm and spacious but there isn’t that vivid clarity or alert awareness, then we are sinking. This is dangerous, as one can stay in that state for a long time and think that one is going into deep meditation. But this is not meditation. It is just a subtle state of sinking, and afterwards, when we come out of meditation, we kind of drift and float around: everything is beautiful and peaceful, the bliss cloud syndrome. Then we are seriously going astray because we should come out from our meditation feeling quite centered and present, aware and awake. Meditation is the process of waking up, not putting ourselves to sleep.

The other main problem of course is our old companion distraction. If the mind is over-active and very distracted, the antidote to that is to be in a slightly warmer room, to wear heavier clothing, to eat more food, and in general to get more grounded. Sometimes we visualize a dark spot just below the navel to bring the mind down. It is said also that we should think of the sufferings of samsara and the fact of impermanence and death and that we don’t have time to waste, so that we can sit with a sense of urgency. Since we have wasted so much time already, this is not the time to carry on wasting more. This is the time for meditation. It is the time to be serious and to put all our efforts into doing this practice. We must not just dissipate our energies again by thinking many thoughts, getting very agitated, wanting to get up and go somewhere else. We have to be very strong with ourselves, very firm and clear about what we are going to do.

The important thing we have to do is just bring the quality of knowing, of attention, to the breath. Breathing in, breathing out—just to know it, not to change the breath in any way or comment on it, not to think about it and analyze it, but just to know the breath and experience it in the moment as much as possible. As soon as we are commenting mentally, we are not with the breath; we are just thinking about it again. All the thoughts that come into the mind are traditionally said to be like unwanted guests. They are waiting to be asked to sit down, but nobody asks them to do so. Certainly, we don’t offer them tea or ask them how they are. We ignore them. Eventually they get embarrassed, and after a while they leave.

Our attention is only on the breathing in and the breathing out—that’s all we have to do. If our mind strays and we get caught up again in thoughts, we just let them go and come back to the breathing. If we spend the whole time being with the breathing, getting lost, bringing the mind back, going off again and bringing the mind back again, that’s fine, no problem. Slowly, slowly, our breathing begins to stand out more, becoming more clear and vivid, while other things recede into the background. Thoughts and sounds become just distant rumbles. Eventually, of course, they will begin to quieten down of themselves, but this won’t happen immediately. The real qualities needed for the spiritual life are patience and perseverance.