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"Vipassana" means clear insight into the real

characteristics of body and mind. Vipassana bhavana (insight meditation) is

sometimes called mindfulness meditation. The technique of vipassana uses

mindfulness to note every detail of our mental and physical experience from

moment-to-moment, with an unbiased attitude. By practicing mindfulness

meditation we can see and actually remove the causes of suffering, which are

within ourselves.

To focus impartial attention on the present moment is the hallmark of

vipassana. There is awareness and acceptance of whatever is occurring in the

immediate now, without judging or adding to it. We see things as they actually

are, free of subjective associations. Systematic vipassana practice eventually

eliminates the cause of mental and physical pain, purifies the mind, and results

in a stable happiness that isn't affected by moods or outward circumstances.

Vipassana meditation comes from the tradition of Theravada Buddhism. (The

Theravada school is based on a group of texts called the "Pali canon," which is

widely regarded as the earliest surviving record of the Buddhist teachings). But

you don't have to be a Buddhist to practice vipassana or benefit from

developing mindfulness. It is not a religion. Vipassana is a simple, gentle

technique suitable for men and women of any age, race or creed.

What is Vipassana?

Contents

What is Vipassana or Insight Meditation?

The Two Kinds of Meditation: Mindfulness and Concentration

What is Mindfulness? / The Country of Now

Letting Go of Memory and Names

Conventional Truth vs. Ultimate Reality

Nama and Rupa / The Absence of "I" / Objects / Persistence

Soap Bubbles

The Four Foundations of Mindfulness / The Rate of Reality

The Juggler / The Five Senses

Separate Yourself

Stop the Wheel

Digging Out the Root

What is Vipassana or Insight Meditation?

Vipassana (insight meditation) is the ultimate expression of Socrates' dictum, "know thyself."

The Buddha discovered that the cause of suffering can actually be erased when we see our

true nature. This is a radical insight. It means that our happiness does not depend on

manipulating the external world. We only have to see ourselves clearly— a much easier

proposition (but in the ultimate sense, knowing oneself with clarity reveals there is no

permanent self, as the Buddha taught).

Vipassana meditation is a rational method for purifying the mind of the mental factors that

cause distress and pain. This simple technique does not invoke the help of a god, spirit or

any other external power, but relies on our own efforts.

Vipassana is an insight that cuts through conventional perception to perceive mind and

matter as they actually are: impermanent, unsatisfactory, and impersonal. Insight

meditation gradually purifies the mind, eliminating all forms of attachment. As attachment is

cut away, desire and delusion are gradually diluted. The Buddha identified these two

factors— desire and ignorance— as the roots of suffering. When they are finally removed,

the mind will touch something permanent beyond the changing world. That "something" is

the deathless, supramundane happiness, called "Nibbana" in Pali.

Insight meditation is concerned with the present moment— with staying in the now to the

most extreme degree possible. It consists of observing body (rupa) and mind (nama) with

bare attention.

The word "vipassana" has two parts. "Passana" means seeing, i.e., perceiving. The prefix "vi"

has several meanings, one of which is "through." Vipassana-insight literally cuts through the

curtain of delusion in the mind. "Vi" can also function as the English prefix "dis," suggesting

discernment— a kind of seeing that perceives individual components separately. The idea of

separation is relevant here, for insight works like a mental scalpel, differentiating

conventional truth from ultimate reality. Lastly, "vi" can function as an intensive, in which

case "vipassana" means intense, deep or powerful seeing. It is an immediate insight

experienced before one's eyes, having nothing to do with reasoning or thinking.

Is insight meditation a religion?

No. Although it was discovered by the Buddha, insight meditation is not Buddhism. It is the

method by which the Buddha and his disciples freed themselves from every form of suffering

and attained awakening. This simple technique is a democratic method, open to people of

any faith or those who ascribe to none.

Is insight meditation an escape from reality?

No. On the contrary, it is the ultimate confrontation with reality.

Two Kinds of Meditation: Mindfulness and Concentration

The complete term for insight meditation is "vipassana-bhavana." "Bhavana" means a

system of mental training that cultivates wisdom or concentration.

All meditation techniques can be classified into two types: insight meditation (vipassana-

bhavana), and tranquility meditation, or concentration (samatha-bhavana). In tranquility

practice you fix the attention on a single object until the mind enters a deep, trance-like

stillness. You develop enough concentration to quiet the mind and suppress mental

impurities such as anger. When you stop meditating, however, the negative emotions

eventually return.

The practice of insight, on the other hand, cultivates wisdom. The student develops

systematic mindfulness in order to see the real characteristics of existence:

unsatisfactoriness, impermanence, and impersonality. All the activities of daily life can be

objects of mindfulness: bodily actions, feelings, thoughts and emotions— even painful ones.

Nothing is suppressed.

In mindfulness practice, a meditator notes and lets go of different objects as they appear

and pass away, instead of keeping the mind fixed on one thing exclusively. Although some

concentration is needed for vipassana practice, it is only the level called "momentary

concentration," which is weaker than that required for deep tranquility-states (jhana).

The path of concentration results in short-term calmness, bliss, and, when fully perfected,

psychic powers. The path of insight, on the other hand, leads to wisdom and permanent

freedom from suffering. This freedom is called "Nibbana," the deathless.

We practice vipassana meditation in order to see the mind, to know it rather than control it,

as Bhikkhu Sopako Bodhi says. To see your own mind clearly is to see ultimate reality.

Many of us find excuses to avoid cultivating the mind. There is the familiar objection, "I don't

have enough concentration to meditate." But strong concentration, as we said, is not a

requirement for insight meditation.

Ask yourself this: does a sick person need a special aptitude to take penicillin? No— he takes

it because he is ill. Like medicine, meditation is not something for which one needs an

aptitude, but a prescription for illness; and the worse it tastes, the more it's likely needed.

The Buddha said that all of us suffer from the mental sickness of desire, aversion and

delusion. But anyone— repeat, anyone— can achieve mental health and happiness by

"taking" vipassana.

What is Mindfulness?

Vipassana practice cultivates mindfulness. Mindfulness in insight meditation refers to bare

awareness of the physical and mental phenomena occurring in the present moment. These

phenomena include the movements of your body, sights, sounds, smells, tastes, sensations

of touch, pain or pleasant feeling, thoughts, etc.

The present moment refers to the initial instant that a phenomenon (called an "object") such

as a sound, sight or movement makes contact with consciousness. Think of a match striking

the side of the box, resulting in flame. That's what the contact of the present moment is like.

The mind is one thing, the object another. When they strike together, a moment of

experience happens: a moment of hearing, seeing, smelling, moving, touching, tasting,

feeling or thinking.

Mindfulness is the mental factor aware of this contact from one moment to the next.

Furthermore, mindfulness knows the beginning and ending of each instance of contact. That

is, it sees each sight or sound arise and then immediately pass away.

With mindfulness you do not judge or react to passing phenomena, but merely note them

impartially, without attraction or repulsion. We should emphasize that mindfulness of the

body, thoughts, feelings, sense-impressions, and so on does not mean thinking about those

things, but merely knowing them with bare attention as soon as they arise (i.e., at the

moment of contact), then letting them go. The technique of simply knowing and letting go of

sensations without reacting to them eventually purifies the mind of all unwholesome traits.

The Country of Now

To be mindful of the present moment is to stay in the ultimate now, to be acutely aware of

what is happening in body and mind at the present instant. At such times you don't

remember past events or anticipate the future. Truly speaking, the last breath is in the past.

It is gone. The next breath hasn't happened yet. Only the present breath (or sight, sound,

movement, etc.) is real.

But how can we survive in the world while staying in the present to such a degree? In order

to function in everyday life, of course, we have to plan and remember. We have to evaluate

sights and sounds. Most of the time we have to use language and abstract thinking. In that

case we cannot stay precisely in the present moment, although we can use general

mindfulness and clear comprehension to be more aware of our activities and thoughts.

But we can set aside a special hour or so every day to cultivate mindfulness. During that

time we can let go of concepts, thoughts, and mental "fashionings" of every kind. Whether

it's an hour every morning or a year-long retreat, during that period there's no need to think

about yesterday's crisis or make a mental leap toward the future, not even to the next

breath.

What is sometimes misunderstood, however, is the degree to which "nowness" should be

taken during vipassana practice. It is more extreme and precise than most of us think. And it

is quite different from the mindfulness we might use in daily life.

People mean different things by the terms "now" or "the present." In a practical sense, we

might think of nowness as having degrees. Imagine you're standing on a high ridge looking

at a forest through a camera lens. As you zoom closer, details of the individual trees emerge

clearly. As you zoom out, the trees appear less distinct.

Here we're using distance as a metaphor for time. To those standing far from the forest,

living in the present could mean enjoying life from day to day without planning for

retirement. For a person who zooms in closer, staying in the now could mean paying

attention while doing the dishes— keeping the mind on the task instead of letting it stray to

the argument of yesterday morning.

But is this as close as you can get to the trees? Is this what it means to stay in the present

to the ultimate degree? As a matter of fact, it isn't. We may believe it is the limit only

because we haven't systematically cultivated mindfulness. But with strong mindfulness we

can actually zoom in much closer. Then we find that the "now" opens up into many more

levels.

Gradually it is seen that our previous lack of awareness distorted our perception of the inner

and outer landscape. As mindfulness gets sharper we will be able to perceive many more

details, subtleties that had never been noticed before, until we are able to clearly perceive

the moment when the mind makes initial contact with an object.

If we do this systematically we'll begin to see things differently— as the mirror image of what

we'd thought they were. What we had believed permanent turns out to be momentary. What

we thought desirable no longer seems so. What we believed to be self is clearly seen to be a

matter of impersonal components. This is to cross the border of conventional truth into the

province of ultimate reality and see things as they actually are. It is by seeing these

characteristics clearly that we'll be able to let go of attachment and become free of suffering.

Letting Go of Memory and Names

How do you take the practice of nowness to the next level so as to see ultimate reality

clearly? The answer is: by letting go of conventional knowledge temporarily, which includes

letting go of memory. Not only memories from childhood, or yesterday, or one minute ago;

not only the memory of our last breath.

In order to gain ultimate knowledge you have to give up, for a time, the labels and concepts

of conventional knowledge. Some call this "beginner's mind." That means that in order to

reach a high level of vipassana insight you must temporarily let go of the names for things,

because naming is actually a very subtle form of remembering, a tiny reflex back to the past.

But you don't have to worry that anything will be lost— the memories and names will return

as soon as you need them or as soon as you stop the period of intensive practice.

What does it mean to "let go of names"? In order to understand this, let's take a look at the

process of perception as described in Buddhist philosophy. The perceptual process has two

parts. Say that you're looking at a piano. At first you see an unidentified colored shape (this

is the initial moment of contact with the object, to which we referred earlier). A split-second

later the mind recognizes the name of the object, "piano." Those two moments occur one

right after the other, so quickly that in daily life they're indistinguishable. But with strong

mindfulness and insight it is possible to perceive the initial moment of bare seeing before

memory comes up with the name.

The same stages of perception occur whenever you experience a sound, smell, taste or

touch. Pure sound-waves are cognized first; in the next moment you recognize the sound. A

fragrance is sensed before it is named. The same is true of touches, tastes, and mental

phenomena.

The truth is, although you may have general mindfulness, whenever you recognize a sight,

sound, etc., you cannot be said to be staying exactly in the present moment, to the highest

degree possible. "If we could focus precisely on the present moment," Achan Sobin wrote,

"… the eye would not be able to identify objects coming into the area of perception. Sound,

which merely has the function of entering the eardrum and causing it to vibrate, would not

be concretized as speech or music, etc. In fact, it is possible to focus on the split-second

between hearing sound and recognizing it in the conventional manner." (Wayfaring: A

Manual for Insight Meditation).

Although it may seem impossible to be clearly aware of a form before recognizing it, this

event happens naturally during vipassana practice when mindfulness and insight are very

strong. With experience in meditation you will not have to believe or disbelieve, because you

will know this firsthand. To know a phenomenon with mindfulness before it is overlaid with

concepts is to experience reality as it actually is, in its pristine state.

That does not mean that in daily life you will go around bumping into objects you don't

recognize. Again, conventional perception, along with all the names and concepts necessary

for everyday functioning, will be there as soon as you need it. It can be accessed anytime.

But in regard to memory, someone might think, "I cherish my happy memories. Why should

I give them up?" Again, your memories will not be permanently erased. You'll be able to

recall a certain event whenever you want to. But the more you train the mind to stay in the

present moment, the more you'll see that clinging to the past and living in the future actually

cause suffering. Attachment to pleasant memories makes us long for something that is gone,

and this longing is in itself painful. What disappears in vipassana practice are not the

memories themselves, but the distress that comes from attaching to them.

Conventional Truth vs. Ultimate Reality

The Buddha distinguished between conventional and ultimate truth. The former refers to the

names and concepts by which we interpret our experience. Conventional truth is relative and

conceptual. It changes from person to person. But ultimate truth is the same for all. It is true

in the absolute sense.

A name is a concept; it isn't ultimately real. It is only a convention we impose on something.

Remembering the name of a thing, whether we are referring to a sight, sound, smell, taste,

touch, feeling or some other form, is not the same as directly experiencing it.

Ultimate reality refers to the raw sense-data of moment-to-moment experience: the actual

instances of color, sound waves, tactile sensation, fragrance, and so on, that the brain

continually registers. These sensations exist whether or not we think about them. They are

not affected by the names or associations given to them.

Most cultures have a name for the phenomenon called "thunder" in English. Brazilians say

"trueno," the French, "tonerre." Although the names differ, the phenomenon doesn't. The

event denoted by "thunder" is the same thing no matter what we call it. Truly speaking, it is

impossible to hear thunder. What we actually hear is sound. Although a particular sound can

be called by many names, sound waves themselves have the same properties, and follow the

same physical laws, in all cultures.

Insight meditation is only concerned with ultimate reality, not conventional truth. Ultimate

reality has two components: nama and rupa.

Nama and Rupa

Achan Sobin once said, "There is no vipassana without nama and rupa." They are insight

meditation distilled to its essence. "Nama" means mind. The mind is comprised of two

things: 1) consciousness, and 2) mental phenomena or mental factors such as intention,

feeling, desire, mindfulness, and so on. The general word "nama" includes both

consciousness and mental factors.

"Rupa" means matter. Practically speaking, rupa refers to bare sense-impressions: color,

sound, taste, scent and tactile sensation (tactile sensation is experienced as temperature,

pressure, and motion). Although we don't usually think of them this way, in Buddhist

philosophy sense-impressions are considered a type of matter. They are, in fact, our only

direct experience of the latter.

Nama and rupa are the two things left when we give up names and concepts. Strictly

speaking,they are the only proper objects of mindfulness.

Nama and rupa serve two functions in our moment-to-moment experience: 1) the function of

knowing, and 2) the function of being known.

The faculty that knows is nama, the mind. It is aware of something. Let's call it the "knower"

(but this "knower" should not be equated with a self; it is impersonal, anatta.) The x being

known is called the "object." An object by very definition lacks awareness.

Rupas, material forms, are always objects, not knowers. Rupa is not conscious. Sound

cannot hear. Color cannot see. Material phenomena must be "touched" by a mind in order to

be experienced. When the mind is aware of color, seeing happens. When it's aware of sound,

hearing occurs. Color and sound are objects.

Each moment of life contains one "knower" and one object. When these two things come

together, experience happens. For example, sound vibrations are rupa; the mind perceives

the sound. When you move your arm, the motion is rupa; nama, the mind, is aware of the

movement. A fragrance is rupa; the mind perceives the scent. Color is rupa; nama, the

mind, cognizes color.

Now here's where it gets a bit tricky. Although rupas are always objects, not all objects are

rupas. An object refers to anything of which the mind is aware. It can be either corporeal or

incorporeal. Mental phenomena such as thoughts and feelings can also become objects-

objects of the mind— because we can be aware of them.

In that case, one mental phenomenon is known by another mental phenomenon. Having two

namas in one moment may seem confusing, as if there would be two knowers. But only one

nama at a time can be the knower. A single moment of nama or unit of mind can perform

only one function at a time. It cannot be both knower and object simultaneously.

What happens in some cases of knowing a mental form is that the mind in the present takes

as its object the previous moment of consciousness, the one that arose and passed away a

split-second before. In other words, the mental phenomenon being known— the nama

serving as the object— is already over with. (Technically, when the previous moment of

consciousness becomes the object of the present, we are knowing an object from the past.

But it is so close in time that it still counts as a legitimate object for mindfulness, still counts

as a "present" object. This is a different situation from when the mind turns to memory to

retrieve the name of a form.)

Simply put: rupas are known. Namas know (rupas and other namas). The knower is always

nama. The object can be nama or rupa.

NAMA RUPA KNOWER OBJECT

MENTAL

PHENOMENA

MATTER

In meditation:

color, sound,

smell, taste,

touch, motion

THE FACULTY

THAT KNOWS

AN OBJECT

A PHENOMENON

THAT IS KNOWN

NAMA RUPA KNOWER OBJECT

FUNCTION:

KNOWER

OR OBJECT

FUNCTION:

OBJECT

ALWAYS

NAMA

NAMA

OR

RUPA

Although they are fundamental, ultimate realities (individual namas and rupas) are not

permanent. In fact they are in continual flux, appearing and passing away faster than

lightning flashes. Under ordinary circumstances we're unable to perceive this flux. But it's

possible, by practicing insight meditation, to train our minds to see it. To see nama-rupa

arising and passing away is to know oneself. To know oneself is to know the universe.

The Absence of "I"

When observing nama and rupa you shouldn't think in terms of a self or describe your

experience with words. When observing the body, for instance, you wouldn't think, "I feel a

cramp in my leg." You would only be aware of the feeling. As a training technique a beginner

can label the sensation "pain," or "feeling," but without regarding it in terms of "I" or

mentally linking it to a body part.

To take another example: during walking meditation a student is just aware of the bare

sensation of motion instead of thinking, "now my foot is moving," or even knowing the

concept "foot." No matter which body part is moving, every instance of motion is rupa,

physical form. In ultimate terms, all rupas are equal. The only difference is that they occur in

different moments. Namas and rupas are not selves. Nor do they belong to a self.

The physical body is rupa because it is comprised of matter. It can be moved into different

shapes called "postures." Let's say that you place the body in the sitting posture. Normally

you'd think, "I am sitting," which is true in the conventional sense. But according to ultimate

reality, it is only rupa that is sitting, only material form, not a self or an "I." In the ultimate

sense, it is not even a man or a woman who is sitting, but only physical elements.

What about nama? Ultimately speaking, nama, the mind, is not a self either. Nama is the

faculty that knows the body is sitting. But this consciousness is not equivalent to a self. It is

merely an impersonal awareness that arises and passes away from moment to moment.

Life continues because in the next instant a new moment of consciousness arises. New units

of consciousness keep arising and dying out one at a time, and it is this entire stream that

we normally regard as a being or person. Although we usually think of a person as a

relatively permanent entity possessing a lasting soul or self, in fact the mental continuum is

comprised of separate, but sequential, units of consciousness. The notion of a permanent

self, the Buddha taught, is nothing more than a fiction. It does not actually exist in either

body or mind.

Our moment-to-moment experience in terms of nama-rupa can be summarized as follows:

Movement is rupa; nama knows (is aware of) movement.

Posture is rupa; nama knows posture.

Color is rupa; nama sees color.

Sound is rupa; nama hears sound.

Scent is rupa; nama smells scent.

Tactile sensation is rupa; nama knows tactile sensation.

Flavor is rupa; nama tastes flavor.

Objects

In any type of meditation we have to give the mind something to focus on. This "something"

is called the "meditation object." In vipassana practice the only appropriate objects are those

which occur in the present moment. Sometimes we generate these objects deliberately, as in

the hand motions exercise (see Hand Motions). Sometimes we merely observe what occurs

naturally, such as the abdominal movements that happen when we breathe.

In fact, the abdominal movement occuring in respiration is the most frequent meditation

object. The abdomen expands when you inhale and deflates when you exhale. In vipassana

these two movements are called, respectively, "rising" and "falling." The rising motion is one

object; the falling motion is another.

Since these motions never cease as long as we live, they make extremely convenient

objects. You can practice insight meditation at any time simply by observing the abdominal

movements. (There are many other objects for vipassana practice, explained in more detail

below and in How to Meditate.)

Persistence

Another requirement is persistence. If you have tried practicing insight meditation, you know

that keeping the mind in the present isn't as easy as it sounds. Perversely, the mind always

wanders away. That's all right. It takes patience to change the habit of a lifetime. But it's

important not to get upset with yourself. You should regard the mind's wandering as an

opportunity to see impersonality, nonself.

Nonself means that all the phenomena in the universe arise because of conditions which are

not amenable to control by anyone's will. We can still effect changes, but only by creating

the right causes, not by sheer willpower. And creating those causes takes time.

So how should you respond when consciousness wanders away from the meditation object?

Simply note "thinking," saying the word silently in the mind, then bring your attention back

to the meditation object. As soon as you notice the mind slipping into the past or dreaming

about the future, sweep it back to the present moment where a new object, a new sound,

thought or movement is already erupting.

Persistence is key because you will have to bring the mind back again and again— literally

thousands of times, until it becomes habitual. Don't try to suppress any emotions or

thoughts that may arise. Allow these phenomena to appear naturally. Simply be aware of

them when they occur.

Soap Bubbles

Imagine a bottle of children's soap bubbles. Before you blow into the plastic wand, no bubble

exists. As soon as you blow into it, however, something begins to form. A thin film balloons

into a pouch and forms a bubble that breaks free— an independent, floating sphere. A form

has appeared that had not existed a few seconds before. You have seen it "being born."

Then before your eyes the bubble bursts. Now it no longer exists. You can't find any trace of

it. But during this process you witnessed the entire "existence" of the bubble, from its birth

to its death. That is the general concept of watching an object in vipassana.

In ultimate terms every phenomenon, such as a movement or a sound, arises, persists, and

bursts like a bubble, all in the space of one moment. In the correct practice of insight

meditation a student observes an object through all three of these phases.

For instance, say that a meditator was observing the abdominal movements. During one rise

of the abdomen, the student would closely track the movement for its entire duration, from

the beginning of the motion through to its end.

The attention should be equally alert during every phase of the motion. The rising movement

has a beginning and end. (As does the falling movement.) It isn't enough just to notice the

development in the middle. We should see the beginning— and end-points, too.

After the abdomen stops rising, it falls back. This movement is a new "bubble," so to speak,

a new object, different from the rising motion. A student then watches the falling movement

in all three phases: beginning, middle and end.

In truth, the rising-falling motions do not make a continuous loop. The abdomen must stop

expanding for a split second before it begins to fall, before the exhalation begins. Think of

the rising motion as the upward arc of a rock thrown in the air. On reaching the highest

point, the rock stops for a split-second before dropping. Likewise, the abdomen has to stop

expanding before falling back.

To stay in the present moment means that when the abdomen falls you aren't thinking about

the last rising movement, since it has already disappeared. To think of it then would be to

stray back to the past, to continue to dwell on an object that no longer existed.

When you are exhaling, where is the previous inhalation? It does not exist. It is only a

memory, no longer a real, present-moment object. Then after a second or two the exhalation

ends, and a new inhalation occurs. Now the exhalation is in the past and the new inhalation

(that is, the new rising movement) is the present object.

The Four Foundations of Mindfulness

The Buddha identified four classes of objects suitable for cultivating insight: the body,

feeling, consciousness, and dhamma-objects. These are called the "Four Foundations of

Mindfulness."

Body objects refer to motion and posture; feeling objects include sensations of pain,

pleasure, or neutrality. "Consciousness" refers to thoughts and the mental factors that color

the mind, factors such as desire, delusion, mindfulness, etc.

The last category, dhamma objects, is a varied group that includes both mental and material

phenomena. Dhamma objects include emotions such as lust, anger, sloth, restlessness and

doubt (the "five hindrances" to meditation). This group also includes pleasant emotions such

as joy. On the material side, dhamma objects refer to the five sense-impressions: sights,

sounds, odors, touches and tastes.

In order to raise a building you need a foundation. With these four kinds of objects as

material, you can build a strong foundation for mindfulness. Wisdom will arise automatically

when the foundation is laid. The beauty of it is, you don't have to look for the construction

materials. They are literally at hand, no further away than your own body and mind. But they

have to be noted in the present moment to count toward the foundation. The foundations of

mindfulness are described in detail in the Satipatthana Sutta, the insight meditator's "Bible."

The Rate of Reality

How long does it take a bolt of lightning to flash? An instant? Now chop that instant finer and

finer, and you'll have some idea of the duration of the mind. Ultimately speaking, our

experience is made up of individual cognitive moments that occur one after another. Mind

and object flash into being and fizzle out together in fractions of a second. The speed of their

birth and death is incredible. It is said that in the duration of a single lightning flash, millions

of thought-moments occur.

In other words, although we tend to think of consciousness as an unbroken line stretching

back to our birth, consciousness actually occurs as a series of separate, extremely brief

cognitive events called "mind-moments." Each mind-moment disappears completely before

the next one arises. The Buddha taught that nothing carries over from one instant to the

next, not even a core called "soul" or "I."

However, because mind-moments arise and die so quickly we cannot see them individually.

They blur into one continuous stream, just as the blades of a spinning fan seem to blur

together. This is significant because the blurring of moment-to-moment experience creates

the illusion of continuity and lastingness. This prevents us from perceiving the truth of

impermanence.

Normally our mindfulness is too weak to keep up with the changes occurring from moment to

moment. That's why we need to develop it by training the mind. In order to clearly see the

impermanence of consciousness we need to make our mindfulness faster and stronger.

But how can we perceive something that's moving so fast? Even if we stared at a moving fan

for many days we wouldn't know whether it had three or five blades, since we'd only see a

blur of color. The solution would be to unplug the fan.

But unlike the fan, we can't slow the rate of ultimate phenomena for our convenience. It is

set, absolute. Still, as observers, we can try to catch up. We can, so to speak, accelerate our

own rate of observation. We can cultivate mindfulness until it is strong enough to glimpse

ultimate phenomena in sufficient detail to know their characteristics.

Let's say that you're standing beside the freeway and someone drives past at seventy m.p.h.

You would know that a car had passed, but the driver's face wouldn't be clear. The car would

have zoomed by too quickly for you to catch any details. You then jump into your own car

and follow the vehicle until you catch up with it, pulling into the lane beside. Now that you're

traveling at the same speed you can see the other driver clearly, can make out the color of

his eyes and hair.

When mindfulness is strong it "catches up to the car." Although in truth it is not entirely or

primarily a consideration of time, when mindfulness is powerful it can see many of the

lightning-quick changes of mind and body (even though it cannot catch the individual mind-

moments; not, at least, until reaching the highest level of vipassana-knowledge). When this

occurs, the three characteristics of impermanence, unsatisfactoriness, and impersonality

become evident.

We might believe it is impossible to perceive such rapid changes. But the good news is that

even one or two moments of seeing a phenomenon arise and pass away can change our lives

if that perception is very clear.

When mindfulness and insight-knowledge become this strong, wisdom and other factors join

in. The Buddhist suttas tell us that when all these mental factors come together, the mind, in

a matter of moments, transcends nama and rupa. It is said that awareness touches

something immune to change, an element free of all suffering. That experience is called

"awakening" or "enlightenment."

But in order to make mindfulness fast or strong enough we have to train it first by slowing

down— slowing down our actions, that is. That may sound paradoxical, but think of a piano

student. In order to play like the wind in concert he has to spend months training with slow

practice.

Just being aware in a general way is not enough if we want to see the impermanence of the

mental stream. For that reason we practice a precise method called "moment-to-moment"

mindfulness.

This refers to the step-by-step observation of body and mind, literally from one individual

moment to the next. In walking meditation, for instance, each step is broken down into six

separate movements, each constituting a separate "moment." Like splitting hairs, the

meditator's awareness becomes more subtle and precise. He is able to see shorter and

shorter moments very clearly. The more he practices, the more momentum mindfulness

gathers, until it can "catch" and clearly see nama and rupa arising and passing away in the

present moment.

The Juggler

The way of focusing on objects in vipassana meditation differs from that of tranquility

(samatha) practice. Imagine a juggler. A juggler's focus is touch-and-go. The same is true in

insight meditation. "Focus and forget it" is the motto. The student has to apply both halves

of the maxim if he wants to get maximum benefit from practice.

The juggler has to focus in order to catch the ball. He has to know where to put his attention,

and then keep his mind on that spot. While the next ball is coming toward him, he can't think

about the last one. He'll fail if he's distracted by a noise or his gaze drifts away. The

meditator, too, has to keep his attention in the present moment or he'll drop the ball— that

is, become distracted from the meditation object.

Now for the "forget it" part: as soon as the juggler catches a ball he lets it go— otherwise

how could he catch the next one? His attention doesn't stick. He keeps it moving, jumping

from one object to the next. What kind of performer would pause to gaze at the ball he'd just

caught, unwilling to surrender it because he liked the color? Likewise, as soon the meditator

notes an object he should drop it, or he won't be able to catch the next phenomenon. His

attention, although uninterrupted, doesn't cling to anything.

If the same object— a sound, say— appears again after being noted once, the meditator

might observe it a second time then let it go again, and so on. He would note, "hearing …

hearing … hearing …" in a sequence of moments, letting go after each one.

The Five Senses

The vipassana student should understand how to observe the five sense-impressions—

sights, sounds, smells, touches and tastes— since these are the objects that most often

trigger desire and hatred. The Malukyaputta Sutta says, "As phenomena are seen, heard,

thought of, or known, just let them be as they are seen, heard, thought of, or known at that

moment. When you see, just see; when you hear, just hear; when you think, just think; and

when you know, just know" ("knowing" includes smelling, tasting and touching).

To let these phenomena be as they are "at that moment" means not to identify or describe

them in any way. As soon as you see, hear, smell, taste, touch, think or know something,

just be aware of the bare sensation. Don't add your good or bad mental description. And

don't continue to think about the sight or sound after the initial moment of contact. New

contacts from sense-objects keep occurring all the time. If you hang on to a past sensation

you can't attend to the one happening in the present moment, since the mind can know only

one object at a time.

When mindfulness and insight are strong they will be able, so to speak, to cut off the mental

stream at a very early level. To see things as they are "at that moment" means to see them

as they are prior to the act of naming them. Strong mindfulness can stop the mental flow at

the point of receiving a bare phenomenon, before the mind tags the object with a name.

When you catch the sensation before the name appears, there won't be a feeling that it's

good or bad. All formations will be regarded as essentially equal: neutral and without

meaning, with no essential difference between a sound, feeling, or thought. That is the

reality. It is the way things actually are. It is only the mental creations we impose on

phenomena that assign them values as beautiful or ugly, pleasant or unpleasant.

The aim during meditation is to be aware only of the bare act of seeing, hearing, smelling,

moving, thinking and so on. When you refrain from conceptualizing about an object, greed,

hatred and delusion won't have a chance to spring up. Then you'll see that each sense-

impression lasts only an instant before disappearing.

However, as a beginner or intermediate meditator you probably won't be able to "just see" or

"just hear." You will still be aware of names, and the assumed values that haunt them.

That's all right. Just don't focus on those conventional labels. Don't think, "Now I'm seeing a

chair, hearing a bird, moving my foot." Instead it's just: seeing, hearing, moving. Let the

conventional meanings be there, but ignore them. Don't be swayed by judgments of good or

bad. At the same time, aim for the target of pure phenomena as much as you can. As clear

comprehension grows you will find yourself more and more able to distinguish pure

phenomenal reality from what is merely conceptual.

Separate Yourself

During insight meditation it is possible to make any phenomenon into an object of

mindfulness instead of identifying with it. You can separate your self from the show of

sensation that is continually arising and passing away. By doing this you protect the mind

from suffering. It becomes apparent that thoughts, emotions and feelings are not in fact

parts of the knower. Since they are actually impersonal objects, not the subject, you can

turn the beam of awareness around and look at them as if they were "outside" of you.

So whenever you will feel that some phenomenon is inseparably part of the knower, is too

close to observe because it is part of your self, turn your awareness around one-hundred-

eighty degrees and observe that very thing. This is another way of saying, "don't become the

object."

The more you progress in meditation, the more you'll run out of things in the "self" category;

the more you will see that everything can be known, even the mind. And when you know an

object with impartial awareness you are separate from it. You are not involved in it. You

have taken your self out of it.

Ultimately speaking, even the mind is other, is impersonal because it doesn't follow our

wishes. That is one meaning of nonself. We can keep turning awareness back onto itself to

observe the knower more and more, one instant after the next. In this way mindfulness

sweeps every form of distress out of the mind. Eventually, the suttas tell us, we will touch

something beyond the conditioned world of mind and matter.

But normally we mistake objects— especially thoughts, emotions or feelings— for aspects of

our selves. We think, "I'm sleepy" or, "I'm bored." Note the "I" here. It is a necessary

convention of everyday speech. The problem is that we believe in the fictitious self that "I"

denotes. The identification to self slides in almost invisibly. The mind, in a rapid sleight of

hand, assumes boredom to be part of itself rather than an object to be observed.

If boredom, tiredness, or other mental states arise, turn the beam of awareness onto them

and note "boredom" or "tiredness." Do not appropriate them as aspects of your self that

somehow belong to you. Pull your awareness back from those objects and watch them to see

what they're like, to see that such conditions arise momentarily only to disappear.

Since they arise and vanish so quickly, how could they be parts of a permanent self? When

you disengage from the boredom, sleepiness, or anxiety, when you realize that it isn't

intrinsically merged with the knower and instead make it into an object of awareness,

everything changes.

If you can turn the beam of your awareness onto mental phenomena your mind will not get

entangled with suffering. You can direct this beam of mindfulness toward anything. There is

nothing that stands within the imaginary circle of self that cannot be made into an object.

Whatever appears, you can mentally separate your awareness from it and look at it. If you

keep this up, then, no matter what arises, mindfulness will be able to keep the mind free of

attachment, agitation and distress.

Stop the Wheel

Although the benefits of mindfulness can be seen right in the present, it is only in the context

of the Buddhist teaching of rebirth that the raison d'être for mindfulness practice becomes

fully clear. In the ultimate sense, mindfulness is practiced with an eye toward improving, and

eventually preventing, future lives.

Buddhism teaches that every being is reborn over and over again into various realms

according to his actions. Until a person's mind is completely purified there is no end to the

cycle. The ultimate goal of the Buddhist, and of vipassana practice, is release from this cycle

of birth and death, release from the round of conditioned existence, called "samsara." It is

possible for that release, called "Nibbana," to occur in the present lifetime if we can develop

mindfulness and wisdom to a sufficient degree.

The Buddha taught that birth and death (and the time in between) always entail some

degree ofdukkha, unsatisfactoriness. Although we might be relatively happy now, existence

is tainted at the most basic level because its components, mind and matter, are unstable and

impermanent, continually arising and vanishing. Any satisfaction we might gain from them is

temporary and tinged with fear about its loss. Even at its best, mundane happiness is a mix

of pleasure and anxiety. Happiness and unhappiness are inseparable, just as the head of a

coin is inseparable from the tail. As the Player King in Hamlet said, "Where joy most revels,

grief doth most lament."

But the Buddha taught that the condition called "Nibbana," which transcends birth and death,

is a superior, pure happiness, free of any tinge of anxiety. And it is permanent.

Although our lives might be relatively pleasant now, all beings, the Buddha said, have

accumulated some degree of unwholesome kamma (karma) from past performance of

harmful or unwise actions (including actions performed during previous lifetimes). Those past

actions can give a result at any time. We cannot predict when. Because of this, there is

always the possibility we might be reborn into an unpleasant state or have to endure painful

conditions such as severe illness, destitution, etc., at some future time.

But in the absence of birth there is no danger. No suffering can occur. Lack of birth does not

mean nothingness in the usual sense. It means the element called "Nibbana," the cessation

of greed, hatred and delusion, which the Buddha called the highest happiness.

The practice of mindfulness ultimately stops the cycle of birth-death-rebirth. Desire and

ignorance are the necessary conditions for rebirth. Mindfulness practice gradually washes

desire, hatred and delusion from the mind. When delusion has been eliminated, rebirth

cannot occur, and neither can suffering.

Digging Out the Root

External events are not the real causes of sorrow. They are just the branches. The root lies

within us. The purpose of vipassana practice is to eliminate the root cause of suffering, not

merely to make us feel good temporarily. But in order to pull out the root it will help to know

how it came to be established.

The question is, how does suffering arise in the first place? Every form of suffering (even

those that seem accidental) is the result of a process, a process generated in the mind. An

example will show how dukkha (unsatisfactoriness) is generated by a cause and effect

sequence, a sequence that hinges on our reactions to sights, sounds and so forth.

Let's say that you walk into a store and see a silver vase. Ultimately speaking, the bare

cognitive reception of seeing is neither good nor bad. The color itself isn't pretty or ugly. But

instead of stopping at that bare sensation of seeing your mind goes farther and adds the

concept of beauty or ugliness.

Let's assume that in this case it adds the concept of beauty. Having perceived the sight as

beautiful, you like and desire it. You keep thinking about it even after you leave the store,

even when the image is no longer before you. The more you think about it, the more desire

grows. Prompted by desire, the thought occurs to you to steal the vase.

In Buddhism, intentional thoughts are considered a form of action. The physical act of

stealing the vase is also an action. Intentional mental, verbal and physical actions are called

kamma (karma). Kamma always gives back a result to the one who performed it.

When these mental and physical actions— i.e., these kammas— are rooted in desire, hatred

and delusion, they give an unpleasant result. This result takes the form of sensation:

unpleasant sights, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile sensations or mental phenomena. Our

various actions, when rooted in delusion, also result in rebirth. Reborn into samsara, the

wheel of birth and death, one must endure various kinds of suffering.

But if we can stop the gears at any one point, the whole sequence will end. The causal

machinery that binds us to birth and death will collapse. At what point can we stop the

process? At the point between the initial contact with an object and the act of liking or

disliking it. If we train ourselves to repeatedly, systematically know sense-impressions with

impartial attention, instead of reacting with attraction or aversion, the process that

generates suffering will stop. Then we will no longer have to experience unpleasant kamma-

results.

But we have to make sure that we are observing nama and rupa, or bare sensation, instead

of conventional named things. Such descriptions as "now my foot is moving," or "I'm

watching my breath," are still on the level of names and labels. Those objects— "foot,"

"breath,"— are still conceptual, not actual. The actual in these examples is just motion itself.

Ultimately speaking, there is no one— no person— moving. Nor is it a leg or an arm that is

moving, only physical elements. That is rupa. The motion is not happening to you or inside of

you. It is only appearing and disappearing, as it were, in space. If, during vipassana practice,

you can avoid the mistake of observing conventional objects and instead know nama and

rupa, you'll make steady progress toward the goal.

This is the "Middle Way," a way between the two extremes of desire and aversion. The trick

is catch things early enough so as to experience only bare phenomena at the moment of

contact instead of conventional, named Things. Then it is easy to let go of desire and

aversion. Since bare phenomena, nama-rupa, are neither good nor bad, it is not possible to

like or dislike them. If you see nama and rupa very clearly, you'll inevitably think, "What's

the big deal? Why on earth did I ever cling to that?" When reality is seen as it actually is,

attachment and aversion fall away naturally, without the need for intense struggle. By

continuing to observe mind and matter impartially you will eventually cease to generate new

kamma, thereby cutting off the mental process that results in suffering. At that point, it's

said, the mind will experience the highest happiness.

How to Meditate

Short video clips accompany many of the exercises described below.

To watch our complete 50-minute meditation video, please click here.

Note: These instructions are drawn from the vipassana traditions of Mahasi Sayadaw and

Chao Khun Bhavanapirama Thera. It is assumed the reader is familiar with the article, What

is Vipassana?

Contents

A Suitable Place

Clothing

Sitting Styles

Resolution

Exercise 1: Rising and Falling

Observing Movement

Limit Your Goal

Primary and Secondary Objects

Mental Noting

Wandering Mind

One Object at a Time

Know and Let Go

Itching

Pain

Mental Images

Mindfulness When Changing

Posture

Exercise 2: Walking Meditation

Exercise 3: Hand Motions

Exercise 4: Sitting

If Strong Emotions Arise

Letting Go of "I"

Sleepiness

How to Observe Objects

Momentary Knowing

Exercise 5: Sitting-Touching

Exercise 6: Rising-Falling-Sitting

Exercise 7: Rising-Falling-Sitting-

Touching

Exercise 8: The Lying Down Posture

Exercise 9: The Standing Posture

If You Experience Bliss

Desire is Not Your Guide

Paying Respect to the Teachings

The Moral Precepts

A Natural Method?

Mindful Eating

Sharing Merit and Lovingkindness (Metta)

Mindfulness in Daily Life

This article offers step-by-step instructions for nine insight meditation exercises, as well as a

detailed explanation of mindful eating, hints on dealing with problems such as wandering

mind, sleepiness, disturbing mental images, unpleasant emotions, and more.

The following exercises are not necessarily listed in order of difficulty. Exercises suitable for

beginners are noted. We generally recommend beginners start with the rising and falling or

hand motions exercise. Basic walking meditation is also appropriate for beginners.

To start, choose one or two exercises and practice them daily. Even after you gain more

experience, you don't have to do all the exercises. Practicing just one exercise consistently is

more important.

If there's something you don't understand at first, please don't let that daunt you. Although

vipassana is a very simple method, many aspects of meditation only become clear by

actually doing it. The best way to understand is to practice the exercises.

Although these Buddhist meditation exercises come from the traditions of the Burmese

teacher Mahasi Sayadaw and the Thai teacher Chao Khun Bhavanapirama Thera, you don't

have to be a Buddhist to practice them. Vipassana is a non-secular method.

[Note: This information is not meant to substitute for the guidance of a qualified instructor.

Anyone serious about insight meditation should eventually find a teacher who can offer

individualized counsel. In order to better understand some of the ideas presented here we

recommend reading the link: What is Vipassana?]

A Suitable Place

Find a place where you can sit comfortably, without interruptions, for at least ten minutes.

Although complete silence isn't necessary—or even desirable—for insight meditation, the

room should be free of obtrusive noises such as music, television, constantly-ringing phones,

and nearby conversations. Even quiet talk can distract you because the mind will try to

understand the words.

On the other hand, background noises like the sound of traffic, the bark of a dog or a ticking

clock should not be considered hindrances, and in fact can be legitimate objects of

mindfulness. Don't wear earplugs in an attempt to "soundproof" your practice.

If you meditate in the bedroom it's better to sit on the floor instead of the bed, which may

cause sleepiness. (If you are ill or disabled, however, it is fine to practice in bed). Your

sitting meditation space doesn't have to be large. Even a walk-in closet will do.

Clothing

Wear loose clothing if possible, and remove your shoes. Sometimes you might want to

practice away from home (at the office, perhaps) and you won't be able to change clothes.

But as long as you have privacy you can loosen your belt, remove your jacket and footwear,

and find a comfortable place to sit.

Sitting Styles

The following postures are suitable for sitting meditation: 1. Half lotus; 2. Full lotus; 3.

Cross-legged tailor fashion; 4. Legs bent with one leg in front (Burmese style); 5. Kneeling

on a meditation bench; 6. Sitting in a chair.

The first pose, half lotus, is the one most often seen in the Buddha statues of Southeast

Asia. The legs are crossed and the right foot rests on the left thigh. This position is

appropriate for most meditators. The next pose, full lotus, is only practical if you are very

flexible. The right foot rests on the left thigh, the left foot on the right thigh.

Tailor fashion is less stable but easier than half lotus. Easiest of all the floor positions is the

Burmese pose in which the legs are bent but not crossed. One leg lies in front of or "outside"

the other. Both legs rest on the floor but don't touch each other. If these postures are too

difficult you can sit on a chair or a meditation bench.

When using a chair, keep your feet flat on the ground and try not to let your back touch the

chair. If you need to change posture because of discomfort, do so slowly and mindfully,

observing the intention to move before shifting the body. Whatever pose you choose should

be comfortable enough that you can maintain it without moving for at least twenty minutes

(unless you're practicing for a shorter time, of course).

When sitting on the floor it will help to use a cushion. The cushion should be firm enough

that it won't be compressed flat when sat on. The ideal thickness is somewhere between two

and six inches. You'll want to experiment and find out what works best for you. Place the

cushion under your buttocks with your legs touching the floor. The legs should not rest on

the cushion. Elevating the hips takes stress off the neck and back vertebrae and aligns the

spine, which allows you to sit comfortably for longer periods.

Regardless of which position you choose, don't let your back slump too much. On the other

hand, you shouldn't sit so straight that you tense the body. Mind and body should feel

relaxed, yet alert. Striking the right balance between the two extremes will take some

experimenting. Think of tuning a guitar string: it should be just right—neither too tight nor

too loose.

Having found a comfortable position, put your hands in your lap, one on top of the other,

with the palms facing upward. Traditionally the back of the right hand rests on top of the left

palm. Don't clench your hands. In all the exercises except walking meditation your eyes can

be either open or closed (in walking meditation your eyes must be open).

We advise beginners to close their eyes, which allows for easier concentration. But

sometimes concentration becomes stronger than mindfulness. In that case opening the eyes

may help disperse the excess concentration and bring the two factors into balance again.

Only momentary concentration is needed for insight meditation. Occasionally a meditator

may experience disturbing mental images, in which case it may help to open the eyes.

Now you are ready to begin meditating. Choose one of the following exercises and practice it

for at least ten minutes. Remember that all physical movements, such as walking and

moving the hands, should be performed slowly, with continuous mindfulness. Shall we dive

in?

Resolution

(Optional)

You may wish to make a resolution before each practice-session. Doing so will help

strengthen your determination. You can use your own words, but the spirit of the aspiration

should be something like this: "By this practice of insight meditation may I reach the end of

suffering. May others also benefit from this wholesome action." Don't just repeat the words.

Really concentrate on the resolve for a moment or two.

View video of rising and falling

or download the video.

Exercise 1: Rising and Falling

(Suitable for beginners)

We recommend this vipassana technique for everyone. Adopt one of the sitting postures. If

you are disabled or have a chronic illness you can do the exercise lying down.

If you choose a sitting position, place your hands in your lap, palms facing upward, the right

hand on top of the left. If doing the exercise lying down, put your hands on the abdomen,

one on top of the other, or at your sides. Close your eyes.

Next, direct your attention to the abdomen, an inch or two above the navel. Find the point

that seems clearest to you. Don't actually look at the spot. Just place your mind there. The

point should lie along the vertical midline of the body.

As you breathe in, the abdomen expands; as you breathe out, it contracts. In meditation

these movements are called, respectively, "rising" and "falling." They never cease to

alternate as long as you live.

As the abdomen rises, observe the motion from beginning to end with your mind. When the

abdomen falls, do the same. That's all there is to it. Just keep watching the rising and falling

movements. You don't have to do anything to them. Just know the movements without

judging or describing them.

If it is difficult to perceive the rising and falling motions, put your hand on your stomach in

order to feel them clearly.

Instead of making a continuous loop, the rising and falling motions are actually separate

movements. Imagine a rock thrown straight up in the air. When reaching the highest point

the rock stops for a fraction of a second before falling. Likewise, the abdomen stops rising for

a moment before falling back.

As you do the exercise, restrict your attention to what is occurring in the immediate present

moment. Don't think about the past or future—don't think about anything at all. Let go of

worries, concerns, and memories. Empty your mind of everything except the abdominal

movements occurring right now. But don't think about them; just know them.

It's important to understand that knowing bodily motion (or knowing anything) as it actually

is in the present moment is entirely different from thinking about it. In insight meditation the

aim is not to think, but only to know.

To know an object during vipassana meditation means to experience it with bare, nonverbal

awareness. You merely register the sensation with impartial attention, without identifying,

naming, judging or describing it. You don't have to comment on the movements: "That

falling motion lasted longer than the previous one. That rising movement wasn't as clear as

the others," and so on.

As soon as there is bare awareness of the rising or falling movement, you are already

knowing it. The same is true of everything you might observe during meditation practice. No

matter what appears, just know it with bare attention for one moment and then let it go.

Keeping your mind on the rising and falling movements may not be as easy as you'd think.

Be patient and don't judge yourself, even if the mind wanders out often. Remember that

you're learning a new skill. When learning to play the piano, for example, you wouldn't

expect perfection right away. Likewise, you shouldn't expect it in meditation. Don't get

discouraged if your progress seems slow. As long as you stick with the practice, results are

sure to come.

As a beginner, you should label the abdominal movements with a mental note. A mental

note—also called a "label"—is a word or short phrase said silently in the mind. The practice

of mental noting helps keep the mind on the meditation object and prevents you from

getting distracted. But this technique is only a temporary crutch. You should stop using the

mental notes when mindfulness is strong enough to observe objects without them. If you're

not sure whether mindfulness is strong enough, don't worry. In fact, the labels will fall away

automatically when no longer useful, so you don't have to make a deliberate decision to stop

using them.

Labeling an object with a mental note should not be confused with recognizing and inwardly

saying the ordinary name of the object, which is what we do in daily life as soon as we see or

hear something. Nor should we confuse mental noting with describing the object further.

Mental notes support mindfulness in the early stages by increasing momentary

concentration. But even when using the noting technique, we should focus on the actual

experience of the object instead of on the label, letting go of the conventional names,

associations and meanings that in ordinary life are automatically attached to sense-

impressions.

Here's how to use the mental noting technique with this exercise: As the abdomen expands,

say the word "rising" in your mind. When the abdomen contracts, say "falling." Continue to

noterising, falling, rising, falling, rising, falling, from one moment to the next.

Only say the mental note one time per movement. For example, during one rising motion

you would say the word "rising" once, stretching the word out to last as long as the

inhalation. When beginning to exhale you would say "falling," stretching the word out to last

as long as the exhalation. Again, these words are said silently. And as we mentioned a

moment ago, even when using the mental notes, try to keep your attention on the actual

movement instead of on the word. The aim is to know the experience itself.

The mental note should coincide with the motion, not be tagged on afterwards. Sometimes

you might catch yourself saying "falling" after the rising movement has begun, or vice-versa.

In that case you are no longer knowing the present moment. Just start over again from that

point, noticing what is actually happening now. Later we'll talk more about mental notes.

During the rising-falling exercise don't focus on the breath or the physical components of the

abdomen. Keep your attention on the surface of the body and focus only on

the movement, which is perceived subjectively as a subtle sensation of tactile pressure, a

sensation which keeps changing from moment to moment.

Imagine lying on your back, putting a coin or some other object on your stomach and, with

your eyes closed, mentally "watching" the coin move up and down as you breathe. Or think

of a buoy on the water, moving up and down with the waves. The coin and the buoy are like

the spot on the abdomen, and the meditator just follows the up and down movement.

A couple of pointers: the abdomen should not be visualized. You only have to be aware of

the movements. And be sure to breathe naturally. Don't try to control your breath (but if you

can't perceive the abdominal motions you may take a few very deep breaths with your hand

on your stomach in order to help you sense the movements. Afterwards, let your breathing

return to normal).

If you can watch your abdomen rising and falling one time, you can practice insight

meditation. Why not try it right now before you continue reading? It will only take a few

seconds.

Close your eyes and inhale, observing one rising motion; then exhale, observing one falling

motion. Don't worry—this page will still be here waiting for you. It isn't going anywhere. You

can continue reading after trying the exercise. Let any resistance drop away. Go ahead and

try it now, on the count of three. One, two, three: Begin.

Congratulations. You see? Insight meditation isn't difficult.

Here is some additional information about observing the abdominal movements. A single

rising movement of the abdomen lasts about two or three seconds. It has a beginning,

middle and end (and so does the falling movement). Ideally your attention should be equally

alert for the entire duration of the movement. Notice the motion as the abdomen first begins

to expand, keeping your attention continuous throughout the development of the movement,

until the abdomen reaches the highest point and stops expanding. Don't just focus on the

middle stage, which is the most obvious part. The beginning- and end-points should be

noticed, too. When the abdomen stops expanding, let go of the rising movement and re-

focus your attention on the beginning of the falling movement. Observe the falling

movement in the same way, from beginning to end.

Please note, we're not saying you should mentally chop one abdominal movement into

sections. One rising or falling motion should be noticed smoothly, without breaks, until it is

over, at which point you would let it go. The same applies to the motion of the feet in

walking meditation, the movements of the hands in Exercise 3, and so on.

The rising-falling exercise is not only for beginners. Most experienced meditators continue to

use it as their main practice. Even if you move on to the other exercises you should not

forget about this one, since the abdominal movements can be noted anywhere, any time.

Motion belongs to the first foundation of mindfulness, the body. The rising-falling motions

are material form (in Pali, "rupa"). Regard them with a detached, scientific attitude. In the

ultimate sense, these movements do not belong to you. They are only impersonal

phenomena, not your self. In truth, they are not a part of you. They are not the mind, either.

It is the mind (nama) that knows them. Yet in ultimate terms the mind—what you call "your

mind"—is not a self, but just an impersonal faculty whose function is to be aware of

something.

Practice the rising-falling exercise anywhere from ten minutes to one hour. If you want to

meditate longer than an hour, it is best to alternate this exercise with walking meditation.

Observing Movement

In many of the exercises presented here, the meditator watches bodily movement. When

observing the abdominal motions or any other form of bodily movement, the student should

focus on the movement itself instead of on the physical body part.

The two ways of focusing might be compared to looking at a windmill in two different ways.

We might look at a windmill in order to discover the direction of the wind, or we might study

the windmill's structure because we're going to repair it. In the first case we only pay

attention to themotion of the windmill-blades—their speed and direction. We don't notice

details about their shape, structure and color. Who cares? The physical details of the blades

tell us nothing whatsoever about the wind, so there's no reason to focus on them. All we

care about is the path they make through space as they move.

Likewise, although we are aware of the foot during walking meditation, we don’t care about

its corporeal mass, which only serves as a "marker" for the important part, the movement.

Instead of trying to feel each muscle or experience a deeper sensation within the foot, our

focus is only on the path it makes through space—the trajectory the foot describes in the air

with each step. All other bodily movements, including the abdominal motions and the

movements of the hands in Exercise 3, are observed in precisely the same way.

Just watch the path of the movement, and do so as it is happening. Keep abreast of the

movement in the present moment so your awareness doesn't lag behind.

Limit Your Goal

Sometimes you'll feel bored or uncomfortable during meditation. You might keep peeking at

the clock, wondering how much time has passed. Another twenty minutes to go! How will

you get through it? Even one more minute seems too much.

When that happens, limit your goal. Just take it one breath at a time. Remind yourself, "I

only have to note one rising movement." Or, "I just have to note this single falling

movement. Just this much." To let go of your resistance, worry or aversion for one moment

isn't hard (and even during those times when it isn't easy, it's still possible). Then do it again

for one more moment. And again. In a few minutes the feeling of resistance may change by

itself, because it's the nature of the mind to change.

So don't worry about the future during meditation practice. Let go. To think ahead, even if

only to the next breath, is to move away from the present moment. Then thoughts will get

stirred up—distracting, delusive thoughts about how difficult or boring meditation is. You'll

think of many things you'd rather be doing. Soon those thoughts will force you to stand up

and walk away from the cushion without having finished your meditation session. It's

important not to follow those thoughts, because they are nothing but the mind's attempt to

trick you into giving up. Instead of allowing such thoughts to control you, just stay in the

now. Take it one moment at a time.

If meditation seems very difficult or you lack self-discipline, try this strategy: decide you will

meditate just one minute per day. Anyone can do that, right? You will find, however, that

once you get "over the hump" of your initial resistance and actually sit down to do it, you

might sometimes want to meditate longer. It's that initial hurdle that's the most difficult. But

even if you don't end up meditating longer, keep practicing one minute every day, without

exception, and your attitude will gradually change.

While observing the abdominal movements, other phenomena will sometimes intrude—

thoughts, sensations of itching, pain, numbness, emotions, sounds, and so forth. In the

following sections we'll discuss how to deal with some of these objects.

Primary and Secondary Objects

Every meditation technique uses a meditation object: something to focus your mind on. In

Exercise 1, the rising and falling abdominal motions are the primary or main object. Although

you should try to keep your attention on the primary object, other phenomena may be

noticed at times. (We'll talk about when to notice them in a moment.) These other things are

called "secondary objects."

Here we should explain that the word "object" has a special meaning in vipassana practice. It

does not refer to a three-dimensional Thing like a desk or a bicycle. An object means

something that is known by the mind (something you're aware of) in the present moment, as

opposed to the subject that is knowing it. The subject is the mind or "knower." (Yet, in the

ultimate sense, the subject is not a self but the mere faculty of knowing).

In vipassana, an object of awareness can be either material or mental. Practically speaking,

a "material object" refers to a sense-impression: color, sound, odor, tactile sensation

(including bodily movement), and flavor. A mental object refers to such things as pleasant or

unpleasant feeling, desire, anxiety, peacefulness, anger, thought, and so on.

As we said, while you're observing the rising-falling movements other phenomena will be

appearing and disappearing. You might be aware of sounds. Sometimes you'll experience

emotions and thoughts. You might feel itches, numbness or discomfort in the body, or you

might feel very peaceful. All of these are secondary objects. In short, a secondary object is

anything you're aware of that is not the primary meditation object.

When should you deliberately focus on a secondary object? If a secondary object makes only

a faint impression on the periphery of your awareness and does not strongly hook your

attention, ignore it and continue observing the primary meditation object. In that case, of

course, you don't need to label the secondary object with a mental note.

But if a secondary object hooks your attention and pulls it away, or if it causes desire or

aversion to appear, you should focus on the secondary object for a moment or two, labeling

it with a mental note. After that, drop it and resume watching the primary meditation object.

Only observe one thing at a time.

Mental Noting

A mental note identifies an object in general but not in detail. When you're aware of a sound,

for example, label it "hearing" instead of "motorcycle," "voices" or "barking dog." If an

unpleasant sensation arises, note "pain" or "feeling" instead of "knee pain" or "my back

pain." Then return your attention to the primary meditation object. When aware of a

fragrance, say the mental note "smelling" for a moment or two. You don't have to identify

the scent.

Your eyes will usually be closed during the rising-falling exercise, so you won't have much

occasion to see. But sometimes you might want to open your eyes, such as when changing

posture. When you are aware of color, note the bare sensation of seeing for a moment or

two, labeling it "seeing." Don't pay attention to what the sight is an image of, or whether it's

attractive or unattractive. Then go back to observing the primary meditation object.

Using mental notes helps prevent clinging and aversion from arising. But as soon as an

object is noted it should be let go of. Even the sensation or thought you noted one moment

before should not be kept in the mind. In meditation practice every phenomenon should be

dropped as soon as it is noticed.

A mental note should usually be limited to one or two words. If it's too long another object

will have arisen before you finish saying the note. A mental note should also be a word easily

recalled so you don't have to search your mind for it. Don't waste time looking for the right

mental note. That will take you out of the present moment. If you don't know what to call

something use the general label "knowing."

If an object has already disappeared before you were able to label it, don't go back and tag

on the label. Let go of all the previous objects and start over again from this moment, by

noting whatever is being experienced now. But if most of the objects that arise seem "faster"

than the mental notes, you don't need to use the notes any more.

However, although the labeling technique is mainly for beginners, even advanced meditators

benefit from using it when mindfulness and concentration are weak. Don't be afraid to

compare both procedures. Use the mental notes, and then drop them for awhile. What is the

difference? Are you able to focus on the present-moment object equally well in both cases?

Eventually you'll know instinctively when the labels are useful and when they merely get in

the way.

Remember: the mental notes are said silently at the exact moment of perceiving the object,

not added later.

The instructions for noting secondary objects apply to all the meditation exercises in this

article.

Wandering Mind

In the beginning your mind will often wander during meditation, spinning out thoughts about

the past and future. Be assured this is normal; but what should you do when it happens? The

strategy is simple: When you catch yourself thinking, silently say the mental note "thinking"

for a moment or two, and then gently return your attention to the rising-falling movements

(or whatever primary meditation object you were observing).

But after gaining some experience in vipassana practice you may notice thoughts that are

very faint or in the "background" of awareness and don't hook your attention. Before you can

label them with a mental note, they're already gone. In that case there's no need to label the

thoughts. Just keep observing the primary meditation object and ignore the thoughts, which

will fall away on their own.

The latter approach is mainly for intermediate and advanced meditators. Since it is more

difficult for beginners to notice when they are thinking, there's a greater chance the mind will

be hooked by a thought and get carried away on a long tangent before you realize it.

Immediately labeling thinking with a mental note helps prevent this.

Don't get upset or judge yourself when the mind wanders away. Keep gently bringing it back

to the main meditation object. Be patient with yourself and understand that it's the nature of

the mind to think, so training it to stay in the present moment and just know takes time.

Actually, if you are aware the mind has wandered it means you are being mindful. If you

didn't have mindfulness, you wouldn't know the mind had drifted away. In daily life we're

unaware how distracted and agitated our minds truly are. Only when making an effort to

meditate can we see the full extent of the mind's restlessness as it jumps from one thought

to the next. The suttas compare it to a monkey in a tree jumping from branch to branch.

When you catch the mind wandering you might be tempted to wonder, "How long have I

been thinking? When did I lose track of the rising-falling motions?" But those are more

thoughts, and even as you're thinking them more rising-falling movements are passing by

unnoticed. Don't go back to find the spot where you lost mindfulness or try to reconstruct

the links in the cognitive chain. You can't bring those past moments back in order to

acknowledge them. Let them go and start over again from this moment.

One reason the mind easily wanders off on tangents is that we tend to believe

wholeheartedly in the content of our thoughts, and so whenever a thought arises we get

mesmerized by its "story." We may not think of ourselves as people who are easily fooled,

but this is one area in which most of us are completely gullible, especially when the thought

carries an emotional charge. When pleasant thoughts appear we get caught up in the

fantasies, fueled by desire. When unpleasant memories arise we focus on how we were

wronged, getting more and more upset. Whether the content of the thought is pleasant or

unpleasant, we tend to assume it has substance instead of recognizing that it's just an empty

vibration arising and passing away.

During vipassana practice meditators should try to ignore the content of their thoughts

completely. It doesn't matter whether a thought is good or bad, pleasant or unpleasant; the

conventional meaning is irrelevant in meditation. The attitude is to look upon all thoughts as

general instances of "thinking," without paying attention to the details that differentiate one

thought from another. All thoughts (indeed, all objects) have equal value in vipassana

practice.

We don't have to feel guilty about having unwholesome thoughts. The key is to be aware of

them as soon as they arise. If we're aware of them in the present moment, mindfulness is

already there. Everyone has bad thoughts at times. In reality most thoughts arise

spontaneously due to causes we cannot directly control. Instead of trying to suppress them

during meditation, the right approach is to "know and let go."

Imagine two meditators: the first has many angry thoughts but doesn't get involved in them

(or act on them, of course). He notes and lets go of them right away. The second meditator

clings to beautiful thoughts about the Buddhist teachings. Which student is practicing

vipassana correctly? The first.

When a meditator is aware of a thought early enough, he realizes, "The thought was not in

existence before; it appeared just now and disappeared at once. I had previously imagined

thought to be permanent because I had not carefully observed it. Now that I have watched

it, and seen it disappearing, I know it truly as it is, impermanent" (Mahasi Sayadaw, The

Great Discourse on Not-Self, pp. 115—6).

It is important to understand how to observe thinking correctly because, as Mahasi Sayadaw

explains, thoughts and tactile sensations—especially sensations of bodily movement—are the

most frequent objects of contemplation. Even exalted thoughts about the Buddhist teachings

should be let go of, as should painful thoughts.

When no thoughts or other secondary objects distract you, your attention should stay with

the primary meditation object.

One Object at a Time

The vipassana technique involves focusing on one thing at a time. That doesn't mean you

have to observe one object exclusively for the entire meditation period. It means focusing

on one thing per moment. Observing two objects or sense-impressions in the same moment

"confuses" mindfulness. Therefore, when observing a rising or a falling motion, ignore other

objects. Don't pay attention to sounds, thoughts, feelings or smells.

But it should be understood that in any two consecutive moments the meditation object may

be different. In vipassana your attention may jump from one meditation object to another.

You might observe a falling movement of the abdomen, and then in the next moment

observe a sound. So even if you sit down to practice the rising-falling exercise for thirty

minutes, it doesn't mean you will observe the abdominal movements during every single

moment of that half-hour period. Secondary objects will sometimes hook you, and whenever

you deliberately note a secondary object you should switch all of your attention to it (even if

just for that one moment). Whatever object you're observing at any given moment should be

the only thing you focus on in that moment.

For instance, if a sound pulls your attention away from the abdominal movements, switch

your attention to the sound and note "hearing" for a moment or two. For those few seconds

ignore everything else, including the rising-falling motions. (While doing this you might still

be aware of other phenomena in the background or on the periphery of consciousness.

That's all right. The point is you are not intentionally focusing on them). After one or two

moments of noting "hearing," return your attention to the primary meditation object and

forget about the sound. The same procedure applies to anything else you might observe—

thoughts, emotions, itches, smells, feelings, and so on.

By focusing on one object at a time, a meditator is able to perceive the three phases of each

moment—arising, persisting, and vanishing—more and more clearly. On the other hand, if a

beginner tries to be aware in a general way of whatever comes up, noticing is vague.

Because his attention is scattered across several objects at once, none is particularly clear.

Since he is trying to observe the whole stream of experience simultaneously, he may not

know which object he’s noticing at any given moment, and it is difficult to gain insight.

When two or more objects—such as a movement and a sound—occur simultaneously, the

general rule is to observe the one that makes the strongest impact on the mind, or the one

that triggers more desire or aversion.

Know and Let Go

As we explain throughout this article, the vipassana motto is: know and let go. Or we can

say, "Focus and forget it." They mean the same thing. All insight meditators should

memorize one of these phrases.

The letting go or "forgetting" is just as important as the knowing or focusing. During

meditation practice a student focuses on one thing at a time and then lets it go. He keeps

"knowing and letting go" repeatedly, from one moment to the next. In Exercise 1, for

example, we focus on the rising movement of the abdomen, and then drop it. In the next

moment we observe the falling movement, and then let it go. The moment after that we're

aware of the rising movement again; as soon as it ends we forget it. And so on.

That's how to describe the procedure in words. But in practice, as we explain elsewhere,

"letting go" is not a separate action. Letting go of the previous meditation object happens

automatically every time we focus in the present again.

Let's take another look at Exercise 1. We observe one rising movement of the abdomen until

it ends. Immediately after that, in the next moment, we bring our attention to observe the

falling movement. But in the act of bringing our attention into the present again to see the

falling movement, the rising motion is simultaneously forgotten. In truth, consciousness can

only be aware of one thing at a time. It has to let go of the previous object in order to know

something else.

That's why we don't have to let go as a separate step. Letting go and re-establishing our

attention in the present moment are the same. Letting go of the past happens by itself

whenever we truly bring the mind back to the here and now. But re-establishing our

attention in the present is something we have to keep doing, gently, with every single

moment. The present is not static. There is always a new "present moment."

Therefore, what we are actually doing during vipassana practice is: knowing, knowing,

knowing, in a chain of moments. Or we could describe it like this: knowing-the-present,

knowing-the-present, knowing-the-present. In an article for tricycle.com, Joseph Goldstein

describes how to do this with the abdominal movements: "Train your awareness to connect

clearly with the first moment of the beginning in-breath. Then sustain the attention for the

duration of just that one in-coming breath. Connect again at the beginning of the outbreath

and sustain your attention till the end." (http://www.tricycle.com/brief-teachings/meditation-

instructions). As meditators, our only job is keep bringing the mind back to knowing what is

happening right here in this present moment. And now this one. And this one.

Itching

During vipassana practice you might feel an itch somewhere on the body. In daily life

sensations of itchiness arise frequently, but since the normal response is to scratch the itch

unconsciously, without clear mindfulness, people don't realize it happens hundreds of times

per day. As a result of meditating, you begin to see that uncomfortable bodily sensations

arise much more often than you had thought.

If you can keep your attention on the principal object and let the itch stay in the

"background," it will often disappear by itself. If it doesn't disappear but becomes more

uncomfortable, just watch the sensation for a few moments, saying the mental note "feeling"

or "itching." Desire might arise—desire to be rid of the feeling. Label it "wanting" or "desire."

(Here you don't observe the sensation of itchiness per se, but the wanting itself, which is a

different object).

If the itch persists and you have to scratch it, use the following step-by-step technique:

1. Observe the desire to be rid of the feeling, saying the mental note "desire."

2. Before moving your hand, note "intending to move."

3. Mindfully move your hand to the itchy spot, noting "moving."

4. When you reach the spot, stop moving your hand for a moment and note, "intending

to scratch."

5. Scratch the itch, noting "moving" or "scratching." Stop.

6. Move your hand back, saying the mental note "moving." Stop.

7. Put your hand in your lap, noting "placing." Now you are back in the original

meditation posture.

8. Note the pleasant feeling that has replaced the unpleasant one, labeling it "feeling" for

one or two moments. Notice if liking arises for the good sensation. If it does, label it

"liking" or "desire."

9. Resume watching the primary meditation object.

Pain

Whenever you keep the body in the same position without moving it, sooner or later pain will

arise. How should you deal with pain during meditation practice?

Instead of automatically shifting the body when you feel discomfort, try to observe the

sensation itself, labeling it with the mental note "pain" or "feeling." Sometimes the pain will

disappear on its own. Sometimes it will grow stronger first, and then diminish or disappear.

In any case, by observing unpleasant feeling you will notice that it does not stay the same. It

changes from moment to moment. Like everything else, pain is impermanent.

But if the pain becomes too severe you should change position. Beginners shouldn't try to

grit their teeth and tough it out. Only advanced meditators can observe severe pain

effectively. The object is too heavy for a beginner's mindfulness to "lift."

On the other hand, you don't want to change position at every little twitch or tingle. Don't

give in to desire easily. Meditators won't make progress without the patience to bear many

unpleasant feelings. Only change position if you cannot tolerate the discomfort and it is

interfering with your mindfulness.

If you decide to change position, follow this step-by-step technique:

1. Observe the sensation of pain for a few moments, labeling it "pain" or "feeling".

2. Note the desire to be rid of the pain. If possible, wait until your mind is no longer

struggling against the painful feeling before going to the next step.

3. Say the mental note "intending to move."

4. Slowly move the body into the new posture, noting "moving." Break the entire action

into several smaller movements, stopping fully after each one. This creates clear

objects for mindfulness.

5. Note the pleasant feeling that has replaced the pain, labeling it "pleasure" or "feeling"

for a moment or two. If you like the feeling, label it "liking," or "desire."

6. Resume watching the primary meditation object.

By practicing insight meditation we gradually realize there is no bodily position comfortable

enough that we can always maintain it. Pain inevitably appears, even when lying down (if

you doubt this, ask anyone who is bedridden in the hospital). No matter how comfortable the

position is initially, we are always forced to move because of the changing nature of the

physical elements. That is one way in which the body is unsatisfactory, or a cause of

suffering.

For more advanced meditators there is an additional method for dealing with physical pain,

which is to disengage your attention from it and observe the mind itself.

Sometimes when you have bodily pain, even in daily life, the mind is momentarily distracted

from it. When you're aware of the pain again you realize that for those few moments of

thinking about your finances, or an argument you had with a loved one, or the things you

need to buy at the store, you didn't actually feel the discomfort anymore. Why? Because the

mind was occupied with something else. It is a fact that consciousness can only know one

thing at a time. When you are thinking about something else you cannot be aware of pain at

the same time.

From this experience you realize that when the mind lets go of pain and focuses on a

different object, the pain effectively disappears. But that's not to say you should think and

fantasize during meditation practice. You should stay in the present moment, but separate or

disengage your mind from the feeling and put your attention on the mind itself—the knower

or the one knowing the experience. You may then see that the mind or knower arises and

passes away from moment to moment.

With this method you let the pain be there in the background if it's going to, but you don't

pay attention to it. The attitude is that you don't have to get involved with the pain or worry

about it. The unpleasant feeling is solely the business of the body. If you can separate your

mind from the pain and let go of it, you won't experience the suffering in the same way as

before. Then, even though the physical sensation may still be there, it won't be experienced

as "hurt", and it won't make the mind suffer. But this is an advanced technique which is not

recommended for beginners.

Generally speaking, when feelings arise during meditation they should be observed and

labeled with a mental note. That is not only true of unpleasant feelings such as pain. If you

fail to observe a pleasant feeling when it arises, attachment can develop. Before you're even

aware of it, you will cling to the feeling. It is easy to get caught up in pleasure and forget

about staying in the present moment. Whether a feeling is painful or pleasant, after noting it

for a moment or two, let it go.

You should also be aware of any desire that arises in connection with feeling—whether the

desire to get rid of a painful sensation or to prolong a pleasant one. When desire arises, label

it with a mental note.

Mental Images

Some meditators see vivid mental images when reaching a certain stage of insight. Others

never see such visions. Whether or not they appear depends in part on the student's

temperament. The images might be of anything at all: people, animals, gardens, colors,

decaying bodies, abstract shapes, or even the Buddha.

These visions can range from exquisitely beautiful to very frightening. But no matter how

vivid they seem, these images are not real. They are mental formations that arise from

imagination (coupled with concentration) and have no significance. They are neither good

nor bad. The meditator should neither desire nor fear them.

If an image occurs, try to focus on the primary meditation object again (such as the rising-

falling motions), ignoring the image. Let the image remain in the "background," but don't

pay attention to it. Eventually the image will fade away.

If the image persists and interferes with your practice, there are several things you can do:

1. Practice with your eyes open.

2. Label the image with a mental note. (You can use the word "image" or "seeing,"

although it should be understood that knowing a mental image is not the same as

genuine seeing.) Continue to note the image from moment-to-moment until it

disappears. The image will often disappear after several notings.

3. Switch to a different meditation exercise. If you are sitting, get up and practice

walking meditation or do the hand motions exercise.

If you note the image with the aim of getting rid of it due to aversion or fear, it will last

longer. Enjoying the vision will also make it persist. Whether it is pleasant or unpleasant, try

to note the image impartially, just as you would any other object, without liking or disliking

it.

Mindfulness When Changing Posture

Insight meditators usually alternate a period of sitting with an equal period of walking

meditation, especially during an intensive retreat in which vipassana is practiced many hours

per day.

During the transition between postures it is crucial to maintain step-by-step mindfulness.

When the sitting time is over, resist the temptation to jump up suddenly or automatically

stretch your back or legs without being mindful of your movements. In the long run, even a

few moments of speeding up will slow you down. Careless movements cause a break in

continuity that scatters mindfulness.

In the old days before lighters and matches, fire could only be produced by rubbing two

sticks together until the friction created a spark. Continuity of effort was essential in getting

a flame. If you stopped to rest, the sticks would go cold and you'd have to start over.

Continuity is just as important in vipassana practice.

Here we'll describe how to change from sitting to standing in a step-by-step manner,

enabling you to maintain mindfulness. The same principles apply to all the other postures.

First, note your intention as "intending to move." Next, start moving the body slowly,

breaking the motion down into a series of separate actions. Stop completely after each

movement. Bring each hand to your stomach one at a time. Tilt your torso forward as you

prepare to stand. Uncross your legs. Lift one leg and then the other. Note the feeling of

pressure against each foot as you place it on the floor, and then slowly stand up.

Each of these actions should be performed slowly, methodically, and observed from

beginning to end. Whenever possible, move only one body part at a time. It's very important

to stop fully at the end of each movement. Label each action with an appropriate mental

note or simply note "moving."

Once the body is upright you should observe the standing posture for a few moments, noting

"standing." This means to focus awareness on the position or shape of the body, being aware

of how it feels. If this is difficult you can focus on one point, such as the spot where the soles

of your feet touch the floor. (For a more detailed description of how to observe bodily

posture, please see Exercise 4).

Whether you are standing, sitting, or lying down, apply this step-by-step technique

whenever you change posture during vipassana practice.

Below are a series of drawings that illustrate the reverse process, changing from standing to

sitting, in even more detail. Here the process has been broken down into sixteen steps (this

information has been adapted from Helen Jandamit's book, The Way to Vipassana, Bangkok,

V.H. Publications, 1990).

1. Begin by standing with your feet together, arms at your sides (alternatively, you may

hold your arms in front of the body, one hand clasping the wrist of the other). Move

your left foot backwards, noting "moving."

2. Slowly bend your knees, noting "moving" or "down".

3. As your left knee touches the ground, note "touching".

4. Move your left hand toward the floor, noting "moving."

5. Place your left hand on the floor, noting "touching" (your hand needs to be in this

position to support the body prior to moving the right leg).

6. Move the right leg back until it is parallel with the left leg, noting "moving."

7. When the right leg touches the floor, note "touching".

8. Move your left hand backwards, noting "moving."

9. As your left hand touches the floor, note "touching".

10. Lower your body until you are sitting, noting "lowering".

11. Move the left foot backwards so that it is further under your body (it should be in the

correct position to sit cross-legged), noting "moving."

12. Lifting the right knee, move the right foot forwards, noting "moving".

13. Reach your right arm forward and take hold of your right ankle, noting "grasping".

14. Lift the right foot, noting "lifting."

15. Move the foot towards the body, noting, "moving".

16. Set your foot on the floor, noting "placing".

17. Put your hands in your lap one by one, noting "moving."

This series of movements is only one of many possibilities, and does not have to be followed

precisely. If you have a disability or other chronic physical problem you may need to alter

the steps. Adjustments will also have to be made if you meditate in a chair. The important

thing is to follow the principle of breaking down larger movements into separate, smaller

actions that can be noted one at a time, and to stop completely at the end of each action

before beginning the next. Also, be sure to acknowledge each movement with a mental note,

especially if you're a beginner. You may devise your own notes; the ones given here are only

suggestions.

Exercise 2: Walking Meditation

Walking meditation is an important vipassana technique. The basic walking meditation

exercise is similar to normal walking, only slower and more deliberate. Your attention should

be minutely focused on each action.

The primary object during walking meditation is the motion of the feet. Observing the

movement of the feet is essentially no different from watching the abdominal movements or

the motions of the hand in Exercise 3. Don't try to feel the muscles in the foot, or a

sensation in the foot. Instead, observe the movement itself. In other words, with each step

observe the path the foot makes as it moves through space.

Pay no attention to the abdominal movements during this exercise. As we said before, only

observe one object per moment.

One final note: don't look at your feet. Just be aware of the movements with your mind.

The best environment is one with few visual distractions. Remove your shoes, if possible.

You should have enough space to walk at least seven paces in a straight line.

Follow the instructions on changing from sitting to standing.

Once you are standing, hold your hands in front of your body, one hand gently clasping the

wrist of the other. Instead of looking around the room, keep your eyes directed straight

ahead or slightly downcast toward the floor (but don't bend your neck too far forward, which

may cause discomfort). Try not to turn your head independently. Even when you turn around

at the end of the walking path, keep your head in a straight line with your spine, as if you

were wearing a neck brace. Move your whole body as one unit on the turn. Relax your

shoulders.

View video of basic walking

or download the video.

Basic Walking Exercise

(Suitable for beginners)

1. Observe the standing posture, noting "standing" for a few moments. This means to

focus awareness on the posture of the body as you stand (for a more detailed

description of how to observe posture, see Exercise 4). If this is difficult you can

choose one point to focus on, such as the soles of your feet, being aware of the feeling

of pressure from touching the floor.

2. Before moving, note "intending to walk." (Don't skip this step).

3. Slowly lift the right foot and place it down, taking one step. This should be a single

fluid motion without breaks. Be aware of the entire arc of movement from beginning

to end. As you do so, label the step "placing" (remember to label while the motion is

happening, not afterwards). The left foot should not have moved and the left heel

should still be on the ground. After placing the right foot down, stop completely for a

moment.

4. Slowly take a step with the left foot, noting "placing." Stop.

5. Continue walking, making sure to stop completely after each step. Only move one foot

at a time.

6. When you reach the end of the walking path, place your feet together on the last step,

noting "stopping."

7. Note "standing" for two or three moments.

8. Now you will begin to turn, in four steps. Note "intending to turn."

9. Lift the toes of your right foot and pivot on the heel, turning to your right. At the same

time, say the mental note "turning." The right heel should stay on the ground. Be sure

to keep your head in line with your torso. The left foot should not move. Stop.

10. Lift the left foot and place it down next to the right, while noting "turning". (The left

foot doesn't pivot, but steps.) You should have moved about ninety degrees. Stop.

11. Pivot on the right heel again, noting "turning." Stop.

12. Lift the left foot and place it down next to the right, noting "turning." By now you

should be facing in the opposite direction, having turned one-hundred-and-eighty

degrees.

13. Repeat steps 1-12 as many times as you wish.

That is the basic exercise. Next we'll give five variations in which each step is broken down

into a series of smaller movements. Substitute any variation for instructions number 3 and 4

above. The rest of the exercise is the same.

A word of advice: don't try the variations until you are adept at the basic exercise. And don't

proceed to the next variation until you've mastered the previous one, even if that takes a

month, a year, or longer. (During an intensive meditation retreat, however, you might spend

only one day on each variation.)

Remember that the "resting" foot should not come off the floor until the active foot has

finished moving. Don't forget to stop completely after each segment of a step.

Advanced Walking Meditation

View video of the two-part step

or download the video.

The two-part step: (Lifting, placing). Lift the heel, noting "lifting" (the toes are still on the

floor). Stop. Now move the whole foot forward and place it on the floor, noting "placing."

View video of the three-part step

or download the video.

The three-part step. (Lifting, moving, placing). Lift the whole foot straight up as a unit,

noting "lifting." Stop. Move the foot forward, noting "moving." Stop. Place the whole foot

down as a unit, noting "placing."

View video of the four-part step

or download the video.

The four-part step: (Heel up, lifting, moving, placing). Lift the heel, noting "heel up." Stop.

Lift the whole foot straight up, noting "lifting." Stop. Move the foot forward, noting "moving."

Stop. Place the foot down as a unit, noting "placing."

View video of the five-part step

or download the video.

The five-part step: (Heel up, lifting, moving, lowering, placing). Lift the heel, noting "heel

up." Stop. Lift the whole foot straight up, noting "lifting." Stop. Move the foot forward, noting

"moving." Stop. Lower the foot as a unit, noting "lowering"; stop when the foot is about an

inch from the floor (be sure to stop completely here). Place the whole foot on the floor,

noting "placing."

View video of the six-part step

or download the video.

The six-part step: (Heel up, lifting, moving, lowering, touching, placing). Lift the heel,

noting "heel up." Stop. Lift the foot straight up, noting "lifting." Stop. Move the foot forward,

noting "moving." Stop. Lower the foot, noting "lowering"; stop when the foot is about an inch

from the floor. Touch the toes—only the toes—to the floor, noting "touching." Stop. Place the

heel on the floor, noting "placing."

View video of hand motions

or download the video.

Exercise 3: Hand Motions

(Suitable for beginners)

This exercise is similar to walking (and rising-falling) in that you watch the body's physical

movement. By focusing on a different part of the body, however, you give mindfulness a

larger repertoire of objects, just as a weightlifter trains different muscles in rotation.

Since mindfulness sometimes gets "bored" or slows down when observing the same object

for a long time (especially during a meditation retreat), changing to another primary

meditation object can help mindfulness maintain strength and continuity. And because some

of the movements here are shorter than in the other exercises, mindfulness is able to

observe more "moments" in the same amount of practice time.

The hand motions exercise, performed while sitting or lying down, is especially useful for

those who can't do the walking practice due to illness or disability. Note: you don't have to

look at your hand. Just watch the movement with your mind.

Exercise A

1. Adopt one of the sitting postures, or lie down. Place your hands on your knees, palms

facing downward. (If lying down, place your hands at your sides, palms touching the

floor).

2. Slowly rotate your right hand laterally (to your right) until it is resting on edge,

perpendicular to the knee. There should be no space between the fingers. Stop

completely for a moment.

3. Raise your hand straight up about eight inches. Stop.

4. Lower the hand back down, stopping when it's an inch or two from the knee.

5. Continue moving your hand down until the lateral side of the little finger touches the

knee. Stop.

6. Rotate the hand medially until the palm is resting on the knee. Stop.

7. Repeat steps 2-6. Beginners should label the actions with the following mental notes:

"turning," "raising," "lowering," "touching," "turning." Practice with one hand alone,

anywhere from five to thirty minutes. Then change to the other hand, giving it equal

time.

Exercise B

1. Adopt one of the sitting postures or lie down. Place your hands on your knees, palms

facing downward. (If lying down, place your hands at your sides, palms touching the

floor).

2. Slowly rotate your right hand laterally (to your right) until it is resting on edge,

perpendicular to the knee. There should not be any space between the fingers. Stop.

3. Raise your hand straight up about six inches. Stop.

4. Pivoting from the elbow, slowly swing the hand and forearm inward toward the center

of the body, stopping a couple of inches before touching the abdomen. The hand and

wrist should remain in a straight line with the arm. The fingertips will now be pointing

to the left and the palm will be facing the abdomen. Stop.

5. Place the right hand against the abdomen. Stop.

6. Rotate the left hand laterally (to your left) until it is resting on edge, perpendicular to

the knee. Stop.

7. Raise the left hand straight up about six inches. Stop.

8. Pivoting from the elbow, swing the left hand and forearm inward toward the center of

the body, stopping when a couple of inches from the abdomen.

9. Place the left hand against the right. Stop.

10. Now you will repeat the motions in reverse order. Swing the left forearm out until the

hand is again above the knee. The hand and wrist should stay in a straight line with

the arm. Stop.

11. Lower the hand straight down, stopping an inch or two above the knee. The hand is

still perpendicular to the knee.

12. Continue moving the left hand down until the lateral side of the little finger touches

the knee. Stop.

13. Rotate the hand medially until the palm is resting on the knee. Stop.

14. Repeat steps 10-13 with the right hand. You may label the movements with the

following mental notes: for steps 2-5 and 6-9: turning, raising, moving, touching. For

steps 10-13: moving, lowering, touching, turning. Practice this exercise anywhere

from five minutes to one hour.

Exercise 4: Sitting

(Beginners can practice this for a few minutes before doing the rising-falling exercise.

Intermediate or advanced students can practice it longer. We don't recommend beginners

practice it for the entire meditation period, because posture is a more difficult object to

observe than physical movement.)

In the previous exercises you had a moving object. Here you will observe a stationary

object—the sitting posture itself (strictly speaking, however, movement is still present,

because the mind moves). With your mind you are going to look repeatedly at the body's

posture, as it appears in the present moment.

Adopt a comfortable sitting position. Now, focus your awareness on the posture of the body

as it sits. (Pay no attention to the rising-falling motions.) The body is adopting a shape that

differs from standing or lying down. This may seem obvious, but there is a difference

between the vague, intermittent awareness of posture we have in daily life, an awareness

interrupted by talking or thinking of a thousand things, and an attention that is wholly

focused on that pose.

Just "look" with your mind's eye to know what the sitting posture is like—how it feels—in this

very moment. If it's difficult to be aware of the whole posture at once, place your attention

on one area, such as your hands in your lap. As you focus on the posture, label it with the

mental note "sitting."

After focusing one time, do it again. The method is simply to observe the posture for one

moment, let it go, and then immediately bring the mind back to the sitting posture again.

This is done gently, with a light touch. Watch this action again and again—i.e., the action of

bringing the mind to look at the sitting posture. Simply be aware of knowing sitting.

Each act or instance of focusing should be fairly quick, lasting about one-and-a-half to three

seconds (but you don't need to time it, of course). Another way to think of it is that you

focus for as long as it takes to say the word "sitting," or roughly as long as one inhalation.

Then let go, and focus on sitting again.

What you should be aware of is not a visual image of the posture, but the kinesthetic

experience or "feel" of it. There is a tactile feeling when you hold the back upright as you sit.

You will also experience sensations of pressure at various points where your body contacts

the floor or one leg presses against another. There will also be a feeling of contact where the

hands touch each other.

Please don't misunderstand: you don't need to observe these various sensations individually,

in detail. When practicing the exercise, don't try to examine them one by one. Look at the

whole thing at once, in one fell swoop. Notice the feel of the entire sitting posture in the

present moment. Then do it again in the next present moment. The meditator is aware of

the whole posture each time with the aim of understanding that this is all there is to

"sitting"—only a momentary group of sensations, nothing more. It is not stable. It is

constantly changing. (Again, however, if it is difficult to be aware of the entire posture at

once you may focus on a smaller area. Eventually you will be able to "see" the whole

posture.)

Every time you focus on the posture, simultaneously label it with a mental note. Keep noting

"sitting," "sitting," "sitting," from one moment to the next, over and over. Remember, it's a

light touch-and-go. You don't need to explore the details of the sensation.

A reminder: don't look at the body with your eyes. Look with your mind.

As Achan Sobin suggests, it may help to think of the mind as a camera taking a series of

snapshots. Take a "shot" of the sitting posture. Then take another snapshot of the same

thing.

Further, when a photographer adjusts a camera lens, he focuses on one spot only; but the

entire image comes out clear, not just the particular spot he was focusing on. (This is similar

to focusing only on your hands instead of on the whole sitting posture).

A few paragraphs back we spoke about letting go after observing the sitting posture. Think of

a chain of individual acts of focusing, and letting go after each one. In other words, what you

should do is: Focus on the object and then forget it. Then immediately focus and forget it

again. And again. And so on.

That's how we explain it in words. But in actual practice the "forgetting" or "letting go" is not

a separate action. Letting go of the previous moment happens by itself every time the mind

focuses on the posture again. So really it's a matter of: focus, focus, focus, in a series of

moments. The meditator keeps taking consecutive "snapshots" of the posture, each one

lasting roughly a couple of seconds.

Some reminders: don't mentally review your body one piece at a time. That would take too

long and would pull the mind out of the present moment. And even though you use the

mental label "sitting," remember to focus on the actual posture, not the word itself.

Every moment of our lives has two components: an object of awareness, and the mind. In

this meditation exercise, the object of awareness is the sitting posture. So we have only: the

sitting posture (material form) and the thing that is knowing it (the mind). The mind itself

cannot adopt a posture. The mind doesn't have buttocks or legs to sit or stand with. It can

only be aware of the body's posture.

There are a couple of Pali words worth remembering, because you will hear them over and

over again in discussions about vipassana meditation. They are: "rupa" and "nama." Among

other things, rupa means material form. Nama means the mind. In summary: the sitting

posture is material form (rupa). The mind (nama) knows—is aware of—the form.

In conventional terms, we say "I am sitting." But in truth, a "self" cannot sit. The body is not

a self. It is not your self sitting there. It is only matter, or rupa, sitting. And when the body

sits, the mind experiences the posture as a group of temporary sensations, different from

when the body is standing or lying down. That is the only way in which posture is

experienced.

Everything we've said about observing the sitting posture applies to all the other bodily

postures as well.

Intermediate or advanced meditators may practice this exercise for the entire meditation

period, or for a few minutes before practicing the rising-falling exercise. Beginners may do

the latter.

If Strong Emotions Arise

It is natural that strong emotions may sometimes come up during meditation. If that

happens, don't assume you are practicing incorrectly. Emotions are valid meditation objects,

too, objects of the fourth foundation of mindfulness. As objects of the mind they have no

more nor less importance than bodily movement or posture. They are, however, more

challenging to observe.

When an unpleasant emotion such as anger arises, don't get upset or try to suppress it. Nor

should you try to look for a "better" object. The emotion is the truth of what is happening in

the present, so just be aware of it.

As soon as you're aware of an emotion during meditation practice, label it with a mental

note. For example, if you realize you're angry, label the emotion "anger, anger," for one or

two moments. If you're depressed, note "depression"; if anxious, note "anxiety." Do the

same with pleasant emotions: if you feel joyful, note "joy"; if peaceful, note "peace." You get

the picture.

The insight meditation method is a middle path between 1) suppressing an emotion and 2)

indulging it by expressing it in words or actions, trying to feel it more deeply, or thinking

about it further. Whether an emotion is pleasant or unpleasant, the vipassana technique is

simply to know it with impartial awareness, neither liking it nor wanting to make it go away.

(Note: we are talking about during meditation. In daily life when expressing an emotion a

meditator would do so with clear awareness, avoiding harmful speech or behavior.)

Don't judge the emotion or your self. If you're suddenly furious at someone, don't criticize

yourself for getting angry. Instead, try to disengage the mind from any involvement in the

anger and just watch it, as if you were watching it happen to someone on television, or

viewing it under a microscope. As one teacher says, "See it, don't be it."

After noting the emotion for one or two moments, let go of it and gently bring your attention

back to the primary meditation object. If the emotion is still so strong you can't focus on the

primary object, repeat the procedure, noting the emotion longer if necessary. As soon as you

can, return to observing the primary meditation object. Over time this method weakens

anger, fear, depression, etc., since you are not "feeding" them with your thoughts and

reactions. If you acknowledge an emotion when it appears but don't get hooked by it—don't

get upset or intrigued—the emotion will gradually fade out.

A fire reflected in a lake cannot burn the water. Neither can emotions disturb the mind when

you don’t get involved in them.

Don’t identify an emotion as your self. The fear or anger is not you, but only an impersonal

phenomenon. Mentally pull back from the emotion and turn your awareness around to

observe it. Now the emotion is just another object of your attention. Instead of "becoming"

the emotion by getting caught up in it, you're looking at it from the outside.

When we're in the grip of a negative emotion we tend to believe it will never end. But

emotions are no more permanent than thoughts. With continued practice you’ll find that you

only have to wait and any emotion, whether pleasant or unpleasant, is bound to change.

In training the mind to know emotions as they really are, a meditator comes to realize that

even strong grief, anger or fear can last only a moment before passing away. The emotion

might come back; but even so it instantly passes away again.

An emotion is not something that belongs to you. The anger, sadness, or peace is only an

impersonal phenomenon, a kind of mental weather that arises according to certain causes

and then vanishes.

When you're able to separate your awareness from an emotion—able to leave the anger or

sadness alone and become the observer—the emotion has no power to control you or cause

suffering. The key is to be mindful as soon as it appears so you don't get hooked in the early

stages.

But sometimes beginners are so overwhelmed by painful emotion they cannot practice

effectively. In that case one of the following methods may help:

1. Press the fist against the center of the chest (around the heart area) and repeat

"knowing, knowing, knowing," being aware of the sensation of pressure from your

hand. Keep this up until the emotion subsides.

2. If you're sitting, get up and practice walking meditation.

3. Temporarily switch to a concentration technique until you are able to resume

vipassana practice. For example, you might repeat the word "Buddho," or another

mantra (a mantra is a special word or phrase repeated aloud and focused on in

concentration meditation).

Use the last method only when mindfulness is truly unable to cope with a strong emotion.

Switching to a concentration technique should not be used as a means of avoiding

unpleasant emotions. Sooner or later, mindfulness must learn how to handle emotional

objects or we won't be able to make progress in insight.

In genuine vipassana practice we cannot avoid experiencing unpleasant emotions such as

boredom, loneliness, fear, jealousy, anger, and so on. But much is learned from observing

them mindfully, and gradually we're able to let go of them sooner. Whenever these

emotions do arise they are weaker than they used to be, causing less and less suffering.

Pleasant emotions should also be known impartially, without liking or becoming attached to

them. They, too, are impermanent. If we try to make a pleasant emotion last longer it will

become a cause of frustration and unhappiness when, inevitably, it changes. Suffering

results when we try to hold on to something that by its very nature cannot endure.

Most painful emotions arise from memory—hence the value of staying in the present

moment. When recalling a painful memory—whether it be of a broken heart, or the loss of

home, health, career, or loved one—the unpleasant event that triggered the feeling is no

longer actually occurring in the present. Although the event is over the mind clings to it,

which generates more suffering.

Or sometimes we worry about the future, fearing the loss of wealth, youth, or health that

hasn't yet occurred. But none of these imaginings is real in the sense that none is actually

happening at the moment we are thinking about it.

The painful events that happened in the past do not exist now. What might or might not

happen in the future does not exist right now, either. Why should we let the mind drag us

into unnecessary suffering?

It is not wrong to plan intelligently for the future, of course. But there's a difference between

behaving responsibly—doing what needs to be done—and needlessly suffering over things

that may never happen or are already gone; things which, in any case, we cannot control.

Suffering about past or future events can only arise when we fail to stay in the present. So

don't fast-forward or rewind.

Letting Go of "I"

In the previous section we explained that an emotion is not your self. Here we will talk a

little more about not identifying objects as self.

Normally, the mind relates everything we experience in everyday life to a concept of

selfhood. If we feel a pain in the body, for example, we automatically think, "my back hurts"

or "my leg hurts." The painful body part is immediately identified as belonging to "me."

Although the false belief in self can’t be willed away, in vipassana practice we try to stop

reinforcing it so that clear-seeing might arise naturally. We try to observe our bodies and

minds without automatically identifying them as self, or as things that are part of us or

belong to us. The aim is to let go of the feeling of "I" as much as possible and merely know

the bare, phenomenal experience of each moment as it is.

During meditation practice, instead of: "I am moving," "I am hearing," "I am thinking," and

so on, simply be aware of: moving, hearing, thinking. There's no need to mix the "I" into

these experiences. In truth, there is no permanent agent executing the actions.

Try to separate your awareness and watch the mind-body process as if it had nothing at all

to do with you. If there's a pain in your back or leg, label the sensation with the mental note

"pain" or "feeling," without regarding it as "me" or linking it to a specific body part. When

thoughts come, don't assume they are yours (but that's not to say they are someone else's.

They don't belong to anyone). The Buddha taught there is thinking, but no thinker (the

"knower" of the thoughts is only a momentary awareness that does not equal a self). Apply

the same principle to all the other meditation objects. In truth, none of them truly belongs to

you.

Sleepiness

Sleepiness may bother you more during an intensive meditation retreat than in your daily

practice. Nevertheless, it can be a frequent hindrance for beginners. Just be aware that

sleepiness is present whenever it arises. You can mentally note it as "sleepiness." If it does

not disperse after repeated noting, try some skillful antidotes: 1) open your eyes; 2) do

walking meditation; 3) turn up the lights, or 4) splash your face with cold water. Cooling the

room may also help. An excess of concentration can cause sleepiness. Be careful to follow

the meditation techniques correctly so that mindfulness and concentration stay as balanced

as possible.

How to Observe Objects

It is important to understand what counts as a correct object for mindfulness. As we

explained in "What is Vipassana?" the Four Foundations of Mindfulness are the appropriate

objects for insight meditation. Once again, these are:

1. The body: i.e., bodily motion and posture.

2. Feelings: painful, pleasant and neutral feelings (these don't refer to emotions).

3. Consciousness: for example, the condition of the mind with or without hatred,

delusion, etc.

4. Dhamma objects: this group includes the five mental hindrances: lust, anger,

sleepiness, restlessness, and doubt, as well as the five sense-impressions: sights,

sounds, tastes, smells, and touches. Some objects in this group are mental, some,

material.

Reduced to their essentials, the Four Foundations of Mindfulness are simply material

phenomena (rupa) and mental phenomena (nama). But this might sound as if anything

whatsoever can be a valid object for mindfulness. Not quite.

A valid object for mindfulness must be something that actually exists, and is directly

perceived in the present moment. It isn't something that used to exist, or will exist in the

future. As Ven. Sujìva points out, it isn't imaginary, conceptual, or remembered. Nor is it a

name or a word.

Let's talk for a moment about mental phenomena, since these are the hardest to understand.

In the context of vipassana meditation, some mental forms are "real," such as the intention

to move the body, or a feeling of aversion or desire. They are valid objects of mindfulness if

we observe them at the very moment in which they arise (instead of remembering them

afterwards). Mental phenomena that are not real in the same sense are names, words,

memories and fantasies.

But we should understand that during vipassana practice we won't always be able to focus

on a "real" or "correct" meditation object, even if we try hard to do so. Sometimes we'll get

lost in memories, or find ourselves planning what we're going to do the next day. We might

realize we've been focusing on a word instead of on the actual phenomenon being

experienced. At times the mind will get caught up in imaginary constructs. That's to be

expected, and it's all right. We shouldn't get upset when it happens. As soon as we're aware,

we can begin again from that point. All we need to do is label the event with an appropriate

mental note, such as "memory," "planning," or "imagining," and lightly bring the mind back

to the main meditation object.

In daily life our minds become obsessed with some forms and try to get rid of others.

Inevitably we like good feelings, beautiful sights, pleasant sounds, delicious tastes, and

fragrant smells, and dislike unpleasant ones. Partiality reigns. Yet vipassana is the ultimate

democratic technique. Whether good or bad in conventional terms, all objects are treated

equally during meditation practice.

But it's not enough just to know which objects to observe. Having identified the appropriate

meditation objects, we need to understand precisely how to observe them.

The way of focusing on objects in vipassana practice differs from that of concentration

meditation, and it's important to understand the difference. In every present moment, the

mind makes contact with, or knows, an object. In other words, the mind, the knower,

experiences an object.

In order to have a complete foundation for mindfulness, a meditator observes both the mind

and its object in each moment. (But that doesn't mean observing two objects at the same

time. As we said earlier, a meditator observes only one object at a time.)

Put another way, a meditator observes the knowing. Or we could say, he observes: the mind

in the act of knowing the object. It isn't as complicated as it sounds. As soon as we're aware

ofknowing an object, we'll automatically be aware of the object, too. Consciousness can't

know itself. It has to have something outside itself to be aware of. The act of knowing cannot

happen without some object "x" to be known.

So when we say, for example, "be aware of the rising motion," what should be observed is,

"knowing rising," or "the-act-of-knowing-rising." That is true for all meditation objects, not

just the abdominal movements. The complete unit of observation is always "the-mind-

knowing-x" or simply, "knowing x."

There is another important aspect to observing objects in insight meditation. Every object we

observe during vipassana practice arises, persists, and then ends, and this entire

development occurs within one moment. This can be illustrated by a single step of the foot in

basic walking meditation. Every step has a clear beginning as you lift the heel, a middle

phase as the foot travels forward, and an end as you place the foot down (these three

phases segue into each other fluidly). The entire progression happens in one moment, and

our attention should be sustained through the whole arc, from the instant of lifting the heel

all the way to the end. After the movement ends we let it go and focus on the beginning of

the next object. If we want to keep walking, we would observe the beginning of the next

step.

Although not all meditation objects will have such clearly distinct phases as a single step

does, we can use this example as a paradigm of how to observe other objects, too, even

mental events. Even though we won't be able to do it clearly at first, our eventual aim during

meditation should be to observe every object in this manner, knowing it with mindfulness

from the instant of its arising all the way through to its ending, right in the present moment.

But remember, the cycle of development we're speaking about occurs within a single

moment, a single instance of noticing, not across several moments. So the duration of the

whole process is very short—no more than two or three seconds, sometimes much less. If

you're a beginner, this will probably sound quite puzzling. Please don't worry. As you gain

experience practicing meditation the meaning will gradually become clear. This is one of

many aspects of meditation that only truly becomes clear with practical experience. But

having an intellectual understanding beforehand can help point you in the right direction.

To summarize how to observe objects in vipassana practice, we should: 1) observe realities,

not concepts or names; 2) be aware of knowing each object; and 3) observe each object

from beginning to end as it arises and disappears in the present moment.

Momentary Knowing

In insight meditation, objects should be observed momentarily. What does "momentarily"

mean? During meditation you should let go of an object after focusing on it once. In other

words, after observing something for one moment, mentally let it go and then move on to

the next object (the "next object" might be a completely different form, or it could be the

same thing again if it's still occurring, like a feeling of itchiness lasting a few minutes). An

insight meditator focuses moment-by-moment. As we said before, the motto is: "Focus and

forget it," or "know and let go."

Please don't misunderstand: we don't mean you have to change to a different meditation

object every single moment. Don't worry if you're a little confused at this point. We'll explain

further.

Some meditation objects only last a few seconds. Take the exercise of watching the rising

and falling movements, for example. We watch the abdomen rise, and then the rising

movement ends, only to be immediately replaced by the falling movement, which is a

different object.

Even if you want to observe the rising movement longer, you can't, because it doesn't last

more than a couple of seconds. After watching it for a moment you have to change to

observing the falling movement. And then after a couple of seconds the falling movement

changes to rising. And so on. That's why you can't observe the rising movement or the

falling movement longer than one moment at a time.

But what if you're watching a meditation object that stays the same for a longer time? How

would you observe it from moment-to-moment? Let's take the example of sound. Imagine

that while observing the abdominal movements you're distracted by the sound of a car alarm

going off in the street below. The noise continues for at least five minutes. You would

observe hearing the sound for one moment, and then drop it. But since the sound would still

be happening, you would observe the same sound a second time, letting it go again—and so

on, in a series of acts of knowing. (Note: that doesn't mean you have to keep observing the

sound until it’s over. If the sound no longer disturbs your mind after noting it once or twice,

there'd be no reason to continue focusing on it. You could then return to watching the

abdominal movements).

The same thing applies to the other meditation objects. Students sometimes get confused

because we say a meditation exercise such as the sitting posture can be practiced as long as

forty-five minutes. In that case, wouldn't a person focus on the sitting posture for the entire

meditation period?

In ordinary terms, yes. But again, we need to understand how to focus from moment to

moment during vipassana practice. Although for the sake of communication we can talk

about observing the sitting posture for three-quarters of an hour, what we are actually doing

during that time is knowing sitting for a moment and letting it go, knowing sitting and letting

go, knowing and letting go, over and over again. It's the same as in the example of the car

alarm. Each instance of focusing lasts only a moment. During those 45 minutes many

individual acts of noticing occur, and the mind starts over again with each one. Furthermore,

in between moments of knowing the sitting posture there may be times when we notice a

secondary object such as a thought, a sound, or an itch, whenever those things pull our

attention away. During a single meditation session mindfulness may jump back and forth

from one object to another many times.

Most of us have seen jugglers at festivals or street fairs, and their touch-and-go skill is a

perfect example of how to focus on objects in meditation. A juggler has to concentrate in

order to catch each ball as it comes around. He can't let himself get distracted by a noise in

the crowd or allow his gaze wander. He must know where to put his attention, and then keep

his mind on that spot. Likewise, a meditator has to concentrate or he will get distracted from

whatever object is appearing in the present moment. That's the "focus" part of the equation.

Now for the "forget it" part: as soon as a juggler catches one ball he lets it go immediately or

his hand won't be free to catch the next one. He keeps his attention moving, "jumping" from

one object to the next. In the same way, as soon a meditator notes an object he drops it, or

else he'll miss the next present moment. His attention doesn't cling to anything. Like the

juggler's, his experience is touch-and-go, touch-and-go.

In the ultimate sense, reality is a series of different phenomena coming into being and dying

out one after another, very fast. For that reason our attention has to keep moving to the

next thing in order to keep up. Mindfulness is always moving to know the next object that

appears. It drops the last moment in order to know what is arising in the next present

moment.

Exercise 5: Sitting-Touching

In this exercise your attention switches back and forth between two primary meditation

objects. The first object is the sitting posture itself, as described above.

For the second object, find a point on your right or left buttock where you can feel the

contact of the floor. That will be the touching point. The idea is to "touch" this spot with your

mind—i.e., to bring your awareness to focus on that point, momentarily. During this exercise

ignore the rising-falling motions.

Adopt one of the sitting postures. As described above, observe the sitting posture for one

moment, focusing, if you wish, on your hands in your lap. In the next moment move your

mind to the touch point and observe the contact. (Note: we are referring to mental contact,

not physical—the contact of the mind "touching" the point.) Your attention will "jump" from

the sitting posture to the touch-point.

Keep alternating between them from one moment to the next, noting, "sitting, touching,

sitting, touching, sitting, touching." Focus on each object approximately the same length of

time—about one-and-a-half to three seconds, or roughly as long as it takes to say the

mental note. (Another way to think of it is: focus on sitting for roughly the duration of one

rising motion of the abdomen. The same with touching.) Don't try to be precise about the

length of each moment. Just observe the posture for as long as it takes to say "sitting" a

little more slowly than normal and you'll be fine. That is one moment. Then note the touch

point for about the same length of time, saying "touching." And back to knowing sitting

again, one time. Then touching, for one moment. Back and forth. Practice this exercise

anywhere from twenty minutes to one hour.

During a meditation retreat, observe the touch point on the right side of the body for one

meditation session and the left side the next, alternating sides throughout the day. In your

regular daily practice you can do the left side one day, the right side the next.

Exercise 6: Rising-Falling-Sitting

Once you feel comfortable with the rising-falling and sitting-touching exercises individually,

you can begin to combine them as in this exercise. Like a juggler adding another ball, you

add a third object to give mindfulness more "work" to do. If you have noticed a pronounced

gap between the rising and falling movements in Exercise 1, you're ready to add "sitting."

(But that doesn't mean you have to practice this exercise all the time from now on. Even

advanced meditators still use Exercise 1 as their main meditation exercise).

Adopt one of the sitting postures. Observe one rising and one falling motion of the abdomen.

Before breathing in again, focus on the sitting posture for one moment, taking a mental

"snapshot" of the pose. Eventually the duration of these three moments should be roughly

equal, but when first learning the exercise they are often uneven. That's all right, as long

as none of the moments is longer than about three seconds. (Note that sitting is observed in

between falling and rising, so do not breathe in while observing sitting.)

After observing the sitting posture one time, start over with rising again. Keep going in

sequence:rising, falling, sitting; rising, falling, sitting. Use the corresponding mental notes:

"rising," "falling," "sitting."

At first you might have to hold your breath for a moment in order to fit the sitting object

between the old falling and the new rising motion. But with practice there will be a natural

space long enough in which to observe the posture. Practice this exercise for a minimum of

twenty minutes, working up to forty-five minutes or one hour.

Exercise 7: Rising-Falling-Sitting-Touching

Once you feel comfortable with exercises five and six you can add a fourth object, combining

the rising-falling and sitting-touching exercises. Adopt one of the sitting postures. Observe

one rising and one falling motion of the abdomen. Before breathing in again, observe the

sitting posture for one moment. Then (also before breathing in) focus on the touch point at

the buttocks. In total there are four objects observed in sequence: 1) rising, 2) falling, 3)

sitting, 4) touching. These should be of roughly equal duration. Do not breathe while

observing sitting and touching. After you note touching, start over with rising again.

Continue the sequence, using the mental notes "rising," "falling," "sitting," "touching," if you

wish. Observe each object for about one-and-a-half to three seconds each time (or about as

long as the duration of one rising motion). At first, as in Exercise 6, you may have to hold

your breath slightly in order to fit sitting and touching between the falling and rising motions.

But with practice, conditions will balance by themselves and you will be able to fit in all four

objects without having to consciously adjust your breathing.

View video of lying down

or download the video.

Exercise 8: The Lying Down Posture

(Suitable for beginners if practiced a short time only, or when ill)

During a meditation retreat, when devoting the entire day to vipassana, it's important to

practice in all four postures: sitting, walking, standing, and lying down. Not that you should

spend equal time in each pose. Typically, sitting and walking are practiced anywhere from

thirty to sixty minutes at a time, standing and lying down, from five to fifteen.

Only an advanced meditator can practice lying down for long periods without getting sleepy

or losing mindfulness. And although standing can be practiced longer, it's usually too

uncomfortable for the novice to maintain for long periods.

In the beginning, therefore, unless you are ill, do not exceed the fifteen-minute maximum for

lying down. Change into the reclining pose slowly and mindfully, following the step-by-step

technique of stopping between movements.

As you change from standing to lying down, note each small action: observe the sensation of

contact as you bend each knee to the floor and lower the torso. Move the legs one at a time,

placing one on top of the other. Note the contact there, too. Label these actions with the

word "moving."

Lie on your side, with the arm closest to the floor extended under your head or on the floor

in front of the chest, the uppermost arm resting against the side of the body. (You may place

a pillow under your head).

Now observe the lying down posture, taking repeated mental snapshots, as with sitting. As

you do so, note "lying" or "lying down." Ignore the rising-falling motions.

For a more detailed explanation of how to observe bodily posture, please see Exercise 4.

Alternatively, instead of the posture itself you can observe the rising and falling abdominal

movements (but do not also watch the posture. Choose one or the other). You can also

practice the hand motions exercise while lying on your back. In that case, ignore the posture

and abdominal movements and observe only the movement of the hands.

View video of the standing posture

or download the video.

Exercise 9: The Standing Posture

(Suitable for beginners)

As with sitting and lying down, the meditation object here is the posture itself. You might

want to practice this exercise for five, ten or fifteen minutes before doing walking meditation.

Stand straight with the arms held in front of the body, one hand clasping the wrist of the

other; or clasp the hands behind your back.

Your eyes may be open or closed. If you open your eyes, don't pay attention to what you're

seeing. Let your attention stay with the kinesthetic "feel" of the posture. If you wish, you

may focus on one area of the body, such as the soles of your feet. Now take a mental

"snapshot" of the posture, noting "standing." Ignore the rising-falling motions. Just keep

observing standing, being aware of knowing the posture from moment-to-moment.

For a more detailed explanation of how to observe posture, please see Exercise 4.

If You Experience Bliss

Some students experience strong feelings of rapture, peace or bliss at a certain stage in

meditation practice. If this happens to you, don't get excited. Just note the bliss or peace as

you would any other object. Don't cling to the feeling (but neither should you try to avoid it).

Like everything else, blissful or peaceful feelings should be known with impartial attention.

Then let them go.

As one teacher cautions, meditators who fail to notice pleasant feelings impartially, thinking,

"'After all, these are good things,' will ultimately find themselves in difficult straits, unable to

advance in meditation." (Ven. Mahathera Matara, The Seven Stages of Purification, p. 39).

There's nothing wrong with good feelings; but it's their nature to pass away. Trying to make

them last will only disturb your mind and prevent you from gaining the higher levels of

insight.

Even if the bliss is stronger than any happiness you've ever known, you shouldn't mistake it

for enlightenment, or even an advanced level of insight. Generally speaking, blissful feelings

arise at a relatively early stage in vipassana practice. The peace that comes from maturing

insight, which is independent of the presence or absence of pleasant feeling (sukha vedana),

is quite different from the blissful states that may occur in the earlier stages of vipassana-

knowledge. The latter are temporary, pleasurable feelings which alternate with neutral or

unpleasant feelings. When the pleasant feeling ends the meditator may be unhappy or

irritated because he wants to have the feeling again. But a highly experienced vipassana

meditator is able to transcend attachment to feeling so as to be free and perfectly content no

matter what kinds of sensations are present, even unpleasant ones. The remarkable freedom

and ease of nonattachment are superior to the happiness of pleasant feelings that arise and

pass away.

Desire is Not Your Guide

Be aware that a pleasant feeling during vipassana meditation doesn't necessarily mean you

are practicing correctly (nor does an unpleasant feeling mean the opposite). Good or bad

feelings are not reliable guides in insight meditation. Neither are your moods and desires.

The important thing is whether mindfulness can know and let go of whatever is happening in

the present moment, be it good or bad, even if the "thing going on" is anger, anxiety, pain,

or another unpleasant state.

Your ability to simply be aware, with equanimity, of whatever is happening now, is the

yardstick by which to judge your practice. So don't become self-satisfied if you feel blissful,

or discouraged if your meditation is uncomfortable. Just ask yourself, "Am I aware of what is

going on from moment to moment, whether good or bad, and letting it go, without clinging

to it or feeling aversion?" If the answer is yes, be assured you are getting benefit that will

increase day by day.

But some people, when angry or worried, say, "I'm too upset to meditate right now." They

think we should wait to practice vipassana until after the mind has calmed down. That's like

a patient with a life-threatening infection claiming he is too sick to take medicine. He'll take

it after the infection is gone. By that time, of course, he wouldn't need it, having died

already. Vipassana practice is medicine for the mind. If our minds were already calm and

free of delusion, we wouldn't need it.

Although there will be days when you won't want to meditate, don't give in to your moods

and practice only when you feel like it. Vipassana should be regarded as something

necessary, as essential as taking medicine when we are sick, or brushing our teeth every

day. We don't do those things because they are great fun, but in order to keep the body

healthy. Meditation makes the mind healthy. There is only one time to do it: today.

As with any other skill, progress in vipassana meditation requires self-discipline. It's no

different from excelling in a sport or playing a musical instrument. No one would expect to

become a concert pianist, for example, if he only practiced the piano when he really felt like

it.

Perhaps you feel peaceful when doing sitting meditation, but not when doing the walking

exercise. You might decide to give up walking because it doesn't "work" for you. Or perhaps

you sit down to meditate for forty-five minutes, but after a quarter of an hour you switch to

a different technique because you feel bored. "Maybe the other exercise will make me feel

peaceful or happy," you think. The grass always looks greener, doesn't it?

We're not implying you need to practice every exercise on this website, or always meditate

forty-five minutes. The point is to be scrupulously honest with yourself and let intelligence,

instead of your momentary desires and moods, guide your decisions. Don't allow desire to

control your meditation practice.

But how should you decide which exercises to practice? Although occasionally it's good to try

a new exercise as a way of testing mindfulness, for the most part you should stick with the

exercise(s) in which mindfulness is able to observe the meditation object most clearly. If you

practice the more advanced exercises before you're ready, you'll only become frustrated and

won't progress as quickly. Mindfulness has to build up gradually. As we said before,

beginners are encouraged to start with the rising and falling and/or the hand motions

exercises. They can also practice the basic walking step, and some of the other exercises for

short amounts of time as noted.

View video of paying respect

or download the video.

Paying Respect to the Teachings

(Optional)

In the Buddhist tradition it is customary to pay respect to the Buddha and his teachings at

the start of each meditation session. Non-Buddhists may skip this step.

The instructions for paying respect are as follows. (These movements should be performed

slowly and mindfully):

1. Begin with hands on the knees, palms facing downward.

2. Slowly rotate the right hand laterally (to your right) until it is resting on edge,

perpendicular to the knee. There should be no space between the fingers. Stop

completely for a moment.

3. Raise your hand straight up about seven or eight inches. Stop.

4. Without changing its position relative to the arm, slowly move your hand toward the

midline of the body until it's in front of the chest. Stop.

5. Move the left hand as you did the right. Rotate it laterally (to your left) until it's

perpendicular on the knee. Stop.

6. Raise the left hand straight up about seven or eight inches. Stop.

7. Bring the left hand toward the midline of the body, until it's in front of the chest. Stop.

8. Press the palms together, fingertips pointing to the ceiling. Stop.

9. Bend the head in a small bow, thinking, "May I pay respect to the Buddha (wisdom),

the Dhamma (ultimate reality), and the sangha (the company of enlightened beings)."

Or devise your own phrase to express something like this: "May I pay respect to the

teachings and the teachers of vipassana meditation, beginning with the Buddha

himself."

10. Now you will repeat the above motions in reverse order (with one small difference).

Raise your head. Stop.

11. Move the right hand back out until it's poised over the knee. The hand is still

perpendicular. Stop.

12. Lower the hand until it's an inch or so above the knee. Stop.

13. Bring the right hand straight down until the lateral side of the little finger touches the

knee. Stop.

14. Rotate the hand medially until the palm is resting on the knee. Stop.

15. Repeat steps 11-14 with the left hand, making sure to stop after each movement.

The Moral Precepts

The way to be free of suffering, the Buddha said, is to develop ourselves in three areas:

morality, concentration, and wisdom. The last two aspects are addressed by meditation

practice. But these in turn rest on a foundation of morality.

Without some degree of restraint in our behavior, the mind will be too troubled to

concentrate and meditate effectively. By adhering to a code of wholesome behavior,

however, meditation practice will progress smoothly.

Morality, called "sila" in Pali, is addressed by the precepts. The following five precepts are the

Buddhist guidelines for the layperson. We encourage everyone to follow them. Note that the

fifth precept is to abstain from alcohol. That doesn't mean you cannot practice vipassana

meditation unless you give up drinking. You might begin by following the first four precepts

while gradually decreasing your alcohol intake. You could add the last precept whenever you

felt ready. The reason for this precept is to avoid the loss of mindfulness leading to

unwholesome speech and behavior which often occurs with drunkenness and recreational-

drug use.

The precepts below are given in Pali first, then English, but it's fine to say them in English

only. If you wish you can repeat these precepts aloud every morning while concentrating on

them with your eyes closed. If you happen to break a precept, take all five precepts over

again. And be sure to forgive yourself. Nobody's perfect.

The Five Precepts

1. Panatipata veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain from

killing any creature (including insects).

2. Adinnadana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain from

stealing.

3. Kamesu micchacara veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain

from sexual misconduct (i.e., sexual relations with someone other than my spouse, or

with a married, engaged, underage person, etc.). Any sexual action that hurts another

can be considered sexual misconduct.

4. Musavada veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain from lying

and harmful speech (the latter includes harsh speech, gossip, and idle chatter).

5. Surameraya majja pamadatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the

precept to refrain from consuming alcohol and using recreational drugs, which lead to

carelessness. (This does not include drugs used as medicine.)

Meditators usually take the eight precepts during vipassana retreats. You can also take them

on so-called uposatha days (days of the half, full or quarter moon), weekends, or any time

you choose.

The Eight Precepts

1. Panatipata veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain from

killing any creature (including insects).

2. Adinnadana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain from

stealing.

3. Kamesu micchacara veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain

from sexual misconduct (i.e., sexual relations with someone other than my spouse, or

with a married, engaged, underage person, etc). Any sexual action that hurts another

can be considered sexual misconduct.

4. Musavada veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain from lying

and harmful speech (the latter includes harsh speech, gossip, and idle chatter).

5. Surameraya majja pamadatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the

precept to refrain from consuming alcohol and using recreational drugs, which lead to

carelessness (this does not include drugs used as medicine).

6. Vikalabhojana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain from

eating after noon.

7. Naccagita vadita visukadassana mala gandha vilepana dharana mandana

vibhusanatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to refrain

from entertainment, beautification and adornment (watching movies, listening to

music, etc., using cosmetics, and wearing jewelry).

8. Uccasayana mahasayana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami. I take the precept to

refrain from sleeping in a very soft, luxurious bed.

A Natural Method?

Unlike some types of meditation, in vipassana we don't focus on a special object like a candle

flame or a colored disc. No external props are used. Our own bodies and minds provide all

the meditation objects needed. And since vipassana can be done while moving the body,

advanced students can practice mindfulness anywhere, under any circumstances, not only

during formal meditation sessions. (However, mindfulness in daily life differs in some ways

from the mindfulness of formal meditation practice. For an explanation, please see the

section, "Mindfulness in Daily Life" at the end of this article.)

Based on the idea that vipassana is a more natural practice than other types of meditation

(since mindfulness can be applied at any time), some students develop wrong ideas and

expectations about it. For example, some meditators dislike the hand motions and advanced

walking exercises on the grounds they are not "natural" enough. This is to become too

attached to a concept of what insight meditation should be. Actually, there is no qualitative

difference between a spontaneous movement and the slower, deliberate movements of the

hands and feet in the step-by-step vipassana method. Bodily motion has the same properties

whenever it appears. But there is an important practical difference: Most beginners gain

mindfulness more quickly when observing slower, step-by-step movements, which is why we

teach this form of vipassana. Also, it is easier to see the cause-and-effect relationship

between mind and body with this method.

Any form of meditation is merely a technique for training the mind, not an end in itself.

When we think about it, there is no such thing as a wholly natural method, because a

method is by definition applied deliberately. The most natural technique is still a technique.

Even with the most natural method, the student doesn't sit back and let nature take its

course. Effort must still be made to go against the stream of habit and bring the mind back

to the present moment, over and over again. The meditator doesn't use force, but gentle

persistence. That persistence is right effort, which is necessary because getting lost in

thoughts of the past and future is the most natural thing in the world.

That said, it can be helpful to practice more naturally at times in order to test mindfulness,

as long as we understand this technique correctly and don't cling to it. This method is

especially helpful for advanced meditators undertaking intensive retreats. Toward the end of

a meditation retreat of several weeks or months, Achan Sobin often tells students to

alternate between the step-by-step technique and a more natural way of meditating. When

practicing the latter method the student does not adopt a special posture. He sits and walks

as he would in daily life, except a little more slowly. The student follows this method for one

or more days and then switches to the step-by-step technique. He continues to alternate

between the two methods until a high level of insight arises. But again, this back-and-forth

approach is usually applied during intensive retreats of all-day meditation, not when only

practicing an hour or so per day.

We do not recommend the natural method for beginners, because their mindfulness and

concentration are weak. Most beginning meditators progress more quickly with the step-by-

step method.

The Buddha taught that until we completely eliminate the unwholesome tendencies in our

minds any system of mental purification will go against some of our inclinations. Once the

mind is fully purified, however, we'll no longer need to meditate. Mindfulness will arise

spontaneously. Then we'll truly be able to live naturally without experiencing—or causing—

any mental suffering.

View video of mindful eating

or download the video.

Mindful Eating

During an intensive vipassana retreat you should try to maintain mindfulness twenty-four-

hours per day, except when sleeping. Do everything slowly. Be as aware as possible during

every activity: when walking to the hall, using the bathroom, making your bed, getting

dressed, opening a door, brushing your teeth, drinking water, and so on. If you don't

maintain continuity of awareness you'll be starting from zero again and again. But

mindfulness increases exponentially when it's continuous. That principle applies to mealtimes

as well.

Mindful eating is no less important than sitting meditation, because insight-knowledge can

arise at any time. During a meditation retreat, instead of viewing mealtimes as opportunities

to take a break and ease up on mindfulness, regard them as golden opportunities for

practice. The desire in the mind is often much clearer during meals than at any other time of

day. To see desire in action is an important aspect of vipassana meditation.

Some preliminary instructions for mindful eating: since it takes much longer to eat a meal

this way, be sure to allow at least one to two hours. Walk to the table slowly and mindfully.

Note any tendency to hurry, induced by the desire for food. If you are carrying a plate, put it

on the table before sitting down, noting "placing." Then with the hands clasped in front of the

body, stand beside the chair for a moment, noting "standing."

Next, extend your hand and touch the chair back, being aware of the feeling of contact as

your hand touches the chair. Pull the chair out. Move your hand back to your body and clasp

the hands together again. Note "intending to sit," and then sit down slowly. Stop moving for

a moment, and then scoot your chair toward the table. Adjust the chair until you're

comfortable.

During a meditation retreat it is customary to pay respect before the meal, expressing

gratitude for the food. Place your hands in the "respect" position (see "Paying Respect to the

Teachings"). Next, say something like this, either silently or aloud: "May this food give me

energy to continue practicing mindfulness from moment-to-moment, until I am completely

free of suffering. May I share the merit I've gained from meditation practice with the person

who prepared this food, and with all beings."

Then bring your hands back from the "respect" position step-by-step, ending with your palms

on your knees. Except for paying respect, meals are conducted in silence during an intensive

meditation retreat.

Instructions for Mindful Eating

1. Look at the food, noting "seeing."

2. Notice whether or not you are hungry.

3. Note "intending to move."

4. Turn your right or left hand laterally until it's resting on edge, perpendicular to the

knee. Stop.

5. Raise your hand straight up until it's more or less at table-height. Stop.

6. Move your hand forward toward the fork or spoon. Stop.

7. Grasp the fork, being aware of the sensation of touch as you do so. Stop.

8. Lift the fork. Stop.

9. Move the fork toward the food. Stop.

10. Place a bite of food on the fork. Stop.

11. Slowly raise the fork to your mouth. Stop.

12. Touch the fork to your lips. Stop.

13. Open your mouth. Stop.

14. Put the food in your mouth. Notice the feel of your lips touching the fork, and the

contact or temperature of the food on the tongue. Don't let yourself chew yet. Stop.

15. Lower your hand slowly. Stop.

16. Place the fork on your plate. Stop.

17. Return your hand to your knee. (You still haven't begun to chew.)

18. Chew the food. Flavor will appear. Mentally try to isolate the flavor from the tactile

mass of the food, the movement of your mouth, and any desire that arises. Flavor is

its own object, separate from all these things. If the flavor is strong you should focus

on it. But if the flavor is bland, focus on the movement of the jaw or tongue. Note

"moving," "tasting," "desire," "touch," and so on, as appropriate.

19. As you swallow, note "swallowing."

20. Be aware your mouth is empty.

21. Notice whether or not you feel full.

22. Note the intention to take another bite.

23. Repeat steps 1-22. (Although mental notes were not given for all the steps, you may

wish to add them, labeling "moving" for steps 3-5 and so on.)

If you need both hands to cut something, focus your attention on one hand only. Apply the

same step-by-step procedure to drinking: observe the intention first; extend your hand;

grasp the cup; move the cup toward you; take a sip of water; and finally, bring the cup back

to the table, stopping completely after each action.

When mindfulness and insight are strong you may not recognize what you are eating. This

experience is a revelation. Instead of green beans or rice on the plate, you see only color.

Rather than meat or cheese, you taste an unnamed burst of sensation. This experience is

difficult to describe, but if it happens you will immediately understand what we are talking

about.

The step-by-step eating technique is intended mainly for meditation retreats. During daily

life it usually isn't practical to eat this way, except on special days or when you have free

time on the weekends. When you are unable to eat in the step-by-step manner just use

general mindfulness to be aware of what you are doing as you eat the meal.

Sharing Merit and Lovingkindness (Metta)

At the end of a meditation retreat it is customary to share "merit" and loving-kindness

(metta) with all beings so everyone may benefit from your meditation practice. You can do

this after your regular morning or evening meditation, too. Say whatever words seem

suitable to you, such as: "May I share the benefit of my vipassana practice with all beings, so

they may be free of mental and physical suffering. May all beings be well and happy." Or,

with your hands in the "respect" position, you can repeat the traditional Pali sequence, given

below.

The Pali Formula for Sharing Lovingkindness:

Sabbe satta (sah BAY sah TAH)

Avera hontu (AH ver ah hone too)

Sabbe satta (sah BAY sah TAH)

Abayapajjha hontu (ah bai YAH pah jah hone too)

Sabbe satta (sah BAY sah TAH)

Anigha hontu (ah nee gah hone too)

Sukhi attanam (sook ee ah tah nang)

Pariharantu (par ee har ohn too)

Translation: May all beings living in the ten corners of samsara, undergoing the suffering of

birth, aging, sickness and death, be happy and free from hatred and anxiety. May they be

happy and free from all physical and mental suffering.

Idham no (ee dam no)

Natinam (nah tee nam)

Hontu (hone too)

Sukhita (sook ee tah)

Hontu yatayo (hone too yah tai yo)

Translation: I share this merit with my family. May they be well and happy.

Idam me (ee dam may)

Punna bhagam (puhn yah bah gahm)

Sabbha (sah bah)

Sattanam (sah tah nam)

Demi (day mee)

Translation: I share this merit with all beings. May all beings be well and happy.

Idam me (ee dam may)

Vipassana (vih pah sah nuh)

Kusalam (koo sah lahm)

Asava (ah sah vah)

Khayavaham (kai yah vuh hum)

Hotu (Ho too)

Translation: May the merit from my practice of vipassana eliminate the desire, hatred and

delusion in my mind.

After saying these words it is traditional to bow three times: first to the Buddha (wisdom),

second to the Dhamma (ultimate truth) and third to the sangha (the company of enlightened

beings).

Mindfulness in Daily Life

Many students ask us how to practice vipassana in daily life. In order to understand how to

apply mindfulness to our everyday activities we first have to know that in daily life

meditators focus on a different type of object than in formal meditation.

Ideally, the objects of mindfulness during formal meditation are bare sense-data: mere

sensations of bodily movement, sound, color, feeling and so forth, without names (the

mental notes have a different purpose than the ordinary names of objects, and are only used

as a temporary training device). We don't add any descriptions to the pure sensations.

Because of this, an advanced meditator may not recognize what he is seeing, hearing, or

otherwise experiencing. For example, when hearing a sound he will clearly be aware of the

act of hearing, but he won't identify the noise as a barking dog, a motorcycle engine, or

whatever it may be in ordinary terms (don't worry: the recognition of sense-perceptions

returns as soon as one stops meditating).

But in daily life we have to be aware of the names of things or we'd be unable to function. It

is necessary to recognize and distinguish one sight or sound from another, and apply the

correct language to each. We have to know, for instance, that a certain sound signifies a

ringing phone, not the call of a bird. And we often have to think in much more complex,

abstract ways. Even a simple task like preparing a meal would be impossible when perceiving

pure color-patches. When fixing supper we have to distinguish a tomato from a carrot, a

knife from a spoon, and so on.

In addition, during daily life we almost always have to move faster than we do in formal

meditation, and so we don't have an opportunity to observe our bodily movements clearly,

step-by-step, as in formal meditation practice.

Most of the time in ordinary life, then, we perceive what is called "conventional reality,"

which simply means the familiar, everyday world of named things. This itself becomes the

object of awareness.

During your daily activities, just be aware of what you are doing in the ordinary sense. For

instance, "now I'm washing dishes," "now I'm typing," "now I'm walking," "now I'm driving,"

"now I'm talking," "now I'm cutting vegetables for dinner," and so on. You don't have to

verbalize it. Just swing your attention back to whatever is happening right here in the

present. Focus on the general activity at hand rather than getting lost in memories or

fantasizing about the future. Throughout the day keep bringing your mind back to the

present, asking yourself, "What is happening right now?" or "What am I doing now, this very

moment?" At times, if you find it helpful, you can label your activities with a mental note.

Even in daily life, however, there will be times when you aren't performing an activity and

don't need to engage in conceptual thinking, such as when riding on the bus or waiting in

line at a store. You can take advantage of those moments by being mindful of the rising-

falling movements of the abdomen or observing your posture, even if only for a minute or

two.

To sum up, mindfulness in daily life is mostly a matter of general awareness, dotted with

short periods of focusing on bare sense-impressions as conditions allow.

However, in daily life it is usually more important to focus on the mind rather than on bodily

movements, because the defilements that might cause wrong speech or behavior arise in the

mind, not the body. Wrong behavior isn't much of a concern during vipassana practice since

we're just sitting or walking quietly, not interacting with anyone. Formal meditation is the

time for training the mind, for strengthening mindfulness. But ordinary life is the testing-

ground. Daily life is filled with situations that might provoke us into unwholesome speech

and behavior. This is when we get to see if the mind reacts differently than it used to. Are we

less up and down? Do we let go of things more quickly? When unpleasant events happen, is

there less suffering? Do we know ourselves better? Do we keep our attention in the present

moment more, and get lost in memories less? In daily life we should especially try to be

aware whenever the mind is disturbed by a strong emotion, including attachment or

aversion, labeling the impulse with a mental note. "Aversion" includes jealousy, fear, and

anger, which are all forms of wanting to get rid of something. By seeing the impulse soon

enough we can stop it from getting stronger and further upsetting the mind.

There is another aspect to mindfulness in daily life, which is called "clear comprehension," a

type of skillful understanding. Applied to daily life it means being aware of the motivations

for, and the purpose and results of, our speech and actions. The Buddha taught that before

speaking we should ask ourselves whether the words are true or false, harmful or helpful.

Before criticizing a co-worker, for example, we should decide whether the remark would truly

be useful or would just hurt the person. If not helpful we should refrain from saying it, even

if it's true. This mental examination doesn't have to take long. It can be done in just a

second or two before speaking.

It is even more important to consider our actions before performing them, to avoid doing

anything harmful and breaking the moral precepts. Throughout the day we should try to

cultivate only wholesome speech and actions. The more we practice mindfulness, the more

clearly we will see the hidden motives—selfish or otherwise—behind our speech and actions.

Often we'll immediately know whether our motives are wholesome or unwholesome.

As we gain more experience we can apply clear comprehension to thoughts as well, trying to

deliberately cultivate wholesome thoughts based on wisdom, loving-kindness and

compassion, and gently letting go of unwholesome thoughts by not dwelling on or repeating

them. At the same time, we should remember never to judge ourselves for having

unwholesome thoughts. Everyone who is not yet fully enlightened has bad thoughts at times.

We cannot control them. But that doesn't mean we should act on them. When an

unwholesome thought arises we can just be aware it has appeared and then gently let it go.

By "catching" these thoughts as soon as they arise, they'll have less chance of getting

stronger and influencing our speech and behavior.

Whenever strong negative emotions such as anger or fear arise in daily life a meditator can

always use the very effective technique of mental noting. As soon as you're aware of the

anger, simply note "anger, anger," a few times, and then try to let the emotion go. If the

anger is still there, continue to observe the feeling without getting involved or caught up in

it. Try to separate your awareness from the anger. Merely watch the emotion as if you were

standing outside of it. If you continue watching it impartially, without getting caught up or

acting on it through wrong speech, it will change and, sooner or later, disappear. You will see

this for yourself. All emotions and mental states are impermanent. A few minutes from now

you'll probably be thinking of something else and the emotion may have vanished

completely. Reminding yourself of this when a strong emotion overtakes you can be a great

help.

There are other methods for skillfully dealing with negative emotions in daily life. If we

believe, for example, that someone is unfairly angry with us, instead of retaliating we can try

to reflect along these lines: "a person who is angry harms his own mind. Anger feels very

uncomfortable. It burns. An angry person is totally agitated and never at peace. Whether or

not it hurts anyone else, anger always hurts the one who's angry. Why should I hurt myself

by getting angry in return?" By habitually reflecting like this, our anger will diminish more

quickly.

Reflecting wisely on the Buddha's teaching of kamma (karma) can also help diminish anger,

jealousy, and other negative emotions. The Buddhist suttas describe many ways for dealing

with unwholesome emotions in daily life, which are too numerous to explain here. In his

booklet The Elimination of Anger, Ven. K. Piyatissa Thera describes eight ways to counteract

anger, all taken from the Buddhist suttas. These are skillful techniques we can use

immediately, at any time. In the long-term, however, the only permanent method for

overcoming anger, anxiety, depression, fear and other negative emotions is to practice

vipassana meditation.

The Buddha

Who was the Buddha?

The Buddha was not a god, but a man whose own efforts led him to enlightenment. He was

born to a royal family in the 6th Century B.C. in Lumbini near the foothills of the Himalayas,

in what is now Nepal. His birth took place on the full-moon day of May. He was called Prince

Siddhatta, and at sixteen married the lovely princess Yasodhara. His life was one of endless

pleasure and privilege. He hadn't a care in the world. His father, however, had.

Shortly after his birth, several astrologers predicted that Siddhatta was destined to become

either a great ruler or a Buddha. But his father, who did not wish to see his son become a

religious ascetic, shielded Siddhatta from every form of ugliness and pain, hoping to keep

him ignorant of the world's suffering. At the same time he tried to strengthen his son's

attachment to worldly pleasures.

That strategy worked until Siddhatta, during several chariot rides through the kingdom,

happened to see an old man, a sick man, and a human corpse. Finally he saw the fourth

"sign," a holy man. The experience was a turning point. The revelation that existence was

tainted by suffering affected him so deeply that he determined to leave his grand life and

search for a lasting solution. Although his wife had just given birth to a son, although his life

seemed perfect by conventional standards, Siddhatta asked himself, "Why, being myself

subject to birth, aging, ailment, death, sorrow and defilement, do I seek after what is also

subject to these things? Suppose, being myself subject to these things, seeing the danger in

them, I sought after the unborn, unaging, unailing, deathless, sorrowless, undefiled,

supreme surcease of bondage, nibbana?" (Majjhima-nikaya 26.) And so, at the age of

twenty-nine, he left the palace and renounced the world.

For the next six years he wandered through India as a homeless ascetic, studying with the

greatest spiritual masters of his age. At that time the practice of self-mortification was

revered as a means of achieving the highest spiritual states. Siddhatta was an intensely

determined student. He did not hesitate to follow any method, no matter how painful, if

there was the slightest hope that it would lead him to the deathless. Among other

austerities, he practiced extreme fasting. Although on the brink of death he was unafraid,

believing that at the moment of dying he might reach the pinnacle he sought. But after six

years of striving, even though his renowned teachers considered him their equals, and even

though his body was emaciated from the effort, he was no closer to his goal of total

liberation from suffering. Finally, having plumbed the knowledge of the best teachers of his

age and found it wanting, Siddhatta resolved to search for the truth on his own. If self-

mortification were truly the path to enlightenment, wouldn't he have reached it already?

"Whenever," he thought, "a monk or brahman has felt in the past, or will feel in the future,

or feels now, painful, racking, piercing feeling due to striving, it can equal this but not

exceed it. But by this grueling penance I have attained no distinction higher than the human

state, worthy of the noble one's knowledge and vision. Might there be another way to

enlightenment?" (Majjhima-nikaya 36.)

Once, as a child, Siddhatta had entered into spontaneous meditation while sitting in the

shade of a rose-apple tree. He now remembered that experience and wondered, "Might that

be the way to enlightenment?" It seemed that it was. He had gone as far as he could with

both pleasure and pain. It occurred to him that only the Middle Way between the two

extremes of sensual pleasure and self-mortification could lead to freedom, Nibbana. Realizing

that a weak body could not do the work of freeing the mind, he abandoned the practice of

fasting. But when he ate some rice and bread the five ascetics who had been his companions

deserted him, thinking that he had "reverted to luxury." Some days later, having regained

his strength, Siddhatta sat down under a Bo-tree near the river Neranjara and entered into

meditation, making a strong determination not to rise until he'd reached enlightenment. At

last, after meditating through the night, he saw the true nature of reality. By seeing the

workings of his own mind and eliminating all traces of greed, hatred and delusion, he had

touched an element immune to change or pain - the deathless element, nibbana. He was no

longer Prince Siddhatta, but the Buddha Gotama, a Fully Awakened One. He saw that there

had been many Buddhas before him and there would be more in the future. He knew, also,

that any being who made the necessary effort was capable of becoming a Buddha, too.

The Buddha's first words after enlightenment were these: "Seeking but not finding the house

builder, I traveled through the round of countless births. Oh, painful is birth ever and again!

House builder you have now been seen. You shall not build the house again. Your rafters

have been broken down; your ridge-pole is demolished too. My mind has now attained the

unformed nibbana and reached the end of every kind of craving." (Dh. 153-54.)

The Buddha's realizations of ultimate reality were called, "The Four Noble Truths." But these

truths were profound, subtle, and could only be seen after diligent effort. He doubted that

others would understand them. But even as he was thinking this, a heavenly being

descended to earth in order to persuade the Buddha to share his knowledge. Then in his

mind's eye the Buddha saw the image of a lotus pool. He noted that, just as some flowers

were sunk underwater while others rose above the surface, ready to open in the sun, so

were the minds of beings at different levels; and some were ready to open in the light of

dhamma (the truth or the law). Those beings would understand his teachings.

At the deer park in Isipatana (now Sarnath) he explained his discovery to his former

companions, the five ascetics who had deserted him. Although skeptical at first, they proved

willing to listen. Soon all five became enlightened. The Buddha spent the next four and-a-

half decades spreading his teachings throughout India, explaining the Four Noble Truths and

the Middle Way to all who were ready to understand them, regardless of wealth, sex, age or

caste. His "dhamma" was open to everyone: penniless lepers and demons as well as kings.

Such an attitude of equality was unheard of in that time and place. The Buddha taught

monks, laymen, laywomen, murderers, spirits and heaven-beings about the suffering of life

and the way to end that mental and physical distress. But he could not confer

enlightenment; he could only show the way; each being, he explained, had to tread the path

for him- or herself.

The Buddha was not an incarnate god, nor the mouthpiece of a god. He never claimed to be

immortal or divine. Nor was his knowledge divinely inspired; it came from his personal

realization of the truth. That liberating truth could only be found within. He urged his

disciples to, "Be an island unto yourselves; be a refuge unto yourselves." No person, or

natural or supernatural force, ruled over one's destiny.

Liberation from suffering, the Buddha taught, was something that anyone could gain through

simple effort and persistence. It was hard work, yes; but the prize, nibbana, was priceless.

The way to enlightenment lay in practicing what he termed the Middle Way and the Eight-

fold path. The kingpin of that path was the practice of vipassana or insight meditation. By

following that technique one could develop the knowledge to pierce through delusion and

perceive all phenomena as they really were.

The Buddha never demanded blind allegiance from his disciples but advocated freedom of

thought, constantly advising them to test his teachings for themselves, "... as the wise would

test gold by burning, cutting, and rubbing it on a piece of touchstone." The embodiment of

compassion, the Buddha preached nonviolence; he taught his disciples never to kill or harm

another creature, not even an insect.

It's said that every morning he surveyed the world with his psychic "eye," looking for those

he could help. Eventually the Buddha made a visit to his father's palace, to preach the

dhamma for the benefit of his family. Many of his family members, including his former wife,

father, stepmother, and son, became enlightened under his guidance. One day the Buddha

fell gravely ill after eating a tainted dish called "hog's mincemeat." Characteristically, even

though he was dying, the Buddha showed great compassion. He told his attendant that if

Cunda, the man who'd offered the food, were to blame himself for the Buddha's death, the

attendant was to console him and explain that he'd made great merit by offering the meal.

At the age of eighty the Buddha passed away in the village of Kusinara, his life a testament

to the power of the human mind. His last words were an exhortation to his disciples: "All

conditioned things are impermanent - strive on with diligence!"

Today, more than five-hundred million people continue to strive.

Buddhism

See also: Real Buddhism? and Fundamentals of Buddhism

Contents

The First Noble Truth - Dukkha

The Second Noble Truth - Tanha

The Third Noble Truth - Nirodha

The Fourth Noble Truth - Magga

The purpose of studying Buddhism is not to study Buddhism, but to study ourselves.

— Shunryu Suzuki

What is Buddhism?

"To avoid all evil, to cultivate good, and to purify one's mind—this is the teaching of the

Buddhas" (Dhammapada 183). Avoiding evil and cultivating the good means to make our

actions and speech non-harmful, and to establish wholesome qualities such as patience and

compassion in our hearts. Purifying the mind refers to mental development, otherwise known

as meditation. But before looking further into the Buddhist teachings we should take a

moment to stop and consider: "Why should one avoid evil, cultivate the good and purify the

mind?"

The Buddha Gotama once made the stirring declaration: "I teach only suffering and the end

of suffering." (Majjhima Nikaya 22, italics added.) The purpose of the Buddhist path is

nothing more than this "end of suffering." It was for this reason, not to promote social

harmony or fulfill the wishes of a higher being, that the Buddha taught his disciples to

cultivate virtue and develop their minds.

Underpinning all the Buddhist teachings is the view that complete liberation from suffering is

not a pipe dream, but a real possibility for anyone. And the benefits extend beyond the

personal. Those who have freed their own minds are able to help others more effectively,

and are incapable of causing intentional harm to any being, even an insect.

The aim of a Buddhist practitioner is not to unite with a higher power of any sort, but to

purify his mind through meditation until it is free of desire, aversion and delusion. The mind

that has been developed in this way will naturally let go of attachments. At that point one is

said to undergo a transcendent experience, the supreme happiness called "Nibbana"

("Nirvana"). Nibbana is complete freedom from suffering.

Some people fear that giving up attachment makes a person uncaring and indifferent toward

others. On the contrary—although one no longer needs others, true compassion for other

beings increases the more one stops clinging to the illusory ego.

Although scholars may disagree about whether or not Buddhism is a religion, those who are

looking for a way to improve their lives and alleviate suffering don't need to get entangled in

theoretical debates. The point to understand is that Buddhism is in essence a practice, a

method of mental training by which we cultivate morality, concentration and wisdom. It is

meant to be lived, not just discussed or believed in.

Although many ethical systems stress the need to apply their doctrines to everyday

situations, this is especially important in Buddhism since there is no question of a superior

being intervening to redeem us or clear the path to heaven. Buddhist thought does not hold

with the existence of a creator God or a savior (although some forms of the sect called

"Mahayana" differ in this regard).

The idea of personal responsibility is central to the Buddhist teachings. The course of an

individual's life, including the degree of happiness and peace he experiences, is ultimately

determined by his own present and past actions, not by fate or any external power. The

concept of fate, in fact, has no place in Buddhist thought.

The Buddha taught that no one can eliminate another person's suffering for him. Even the

Buddha could not do that; he only showed the way. But with the teachings as a guide, each

person is capable of liberating himself. That's why the Buddha urged his disciples to, "be a

refuge unto yourselves."

Today there are two main schools of Buddhism, Theravada and Mahayana. Theravada

Buddhism is followed primarily in southeast Asia, especially in Burma, Laos, Cambodia, Sri

Lanka and Thailand. Mahayana Buddhism is practiced mainly in China, Tibet and Japan.

As the oldest surviving branch of Buddhism, the Theravadan school is regarded by most

scholars as being closest to the Buddha's original doctrine. The scriptures of Theravadan

Buddhism were written in the ancient language called "Pali," and those early Buddhist texts

are known as the Pali Canon. Our remarks here, and throughout this website, follow the

Theravadan tradition.

In the remainder of this article we will outline the most important Theravadan Buddhist

teachings.

As vast as the topic of Buddhism is, all the essential points are condensed in what are called

the "Four Noble Truths" (ariya sacca). These are:

1. The truth of suffering (dukkha).

2. The truth of the origin of suffering (tanha).

3. The truth of the extinction of suffering (nirodha).

4. The truth of the Eightfold Path leading to the extinction of suffering (magga).

It is remarkable how much ground is covered in these four short lines. The Noble Truths

describe the ultimate nature of all things in the universe, from conditioned phenomena to

Nibbana (the "unconditioned" element, referred to in the third Noble Truth); they identify the

cause of every form of unhappiness, from the slightest boredom to the greatest physical

pain; they state what true freedom from suffering is, which is also genuine happiness; and,

most important, they explain the method by which anyone can break free of suffering and

attain the special happiness of Nibbana. In addition to these explicit teachings, many other

important doctrines are implicit here, among them the teachings of nonself, rebirth and

karma. These will be brought into our discussion as appropriate to help elucidate the Noble

Truths.

If the Four Noble Truths are going to transform our lives they must be realized directly in a

deep, personal epiphany, not just understood intellectually. In the rest of this article we will

take a closer look at these Truths, one by one.

The First Noble Truth - Dukkha

The First Noble Truth states that all existence is dukkha. The Pali word "dukkha" refers to

that which is inherently unsatisfactory because it is unstable and ever-changing. Things that

are dukkha are unreliable and unsustainable—incapable of maintaining themselves in the

same condition for long. "Dukkha" is usually translated as "suffering." Although that is an

appropriate translation in many cases, it must be understood that dukkha is a characteristic

not only of overtly painful feelings, but of the most pleasant feelings as well.

The gist of the First Noble Truth is that even the most blissful experiences are unsatisfactory

in the end, since they inevitably change and disappear. It is said that pleasure is pleasant

while it exists and unpleasant when it ceases, and that pain is unpleasant while it exists and

pleasant when it ceases.

The Buddha taught that pleasure and pain form an inseparable unit, like the two sides of

your hand. The palm of the hand cannot exist without the back. They come together.

Likewise, pleasure and pain, which we usually think of as being opposites, are actually

different sides of the same phenomenon. We cannot isolate pleasure, cannot enjoy pleasure

in life without also experiencing its flipside—the unsatisfying state that arises when pleasure

ends.

Unless we train ourselves to let go of attachment, therefore, the best we can achieve in life is

a relative, intermittent happiness which sometimes alternates with outright pain. This is

partly because our own minds, our bodies, and the external environment cannot truly be

manipulated according to our will. We can't make these things stay the same or change

simply because we want them to. No one, for example, can prevent his body from aging and

eventually dying.

Even more troubling, the building blocks of existence, mind and matter, are themselves

unsatisfactory by their very nature. Mental and material phenomena are so inherently

unstable they are changing all the time, arising and dissolving from second to second

(although we can't perceive this instability without training our attention through meditation

practice). In reality they are nothing but empty appearances, without substance—and such

illusions cannot be depended on for lasting happiness.

Whatever happiness we do experience is always vulnerable, because eventually it is going to

alter and be lost. Because of this instability, every sensation in the changing process called

"existence" falls short of providing complete contentment and is, ultimately, unsatisfying—

dukkha. Although we may have occasional moments of great joy, they are fleeting, and our

distress when they end is usually as great as the happiness. As Shakespeare put it, “Where

joy most revels, grief doth most lament." Enduring, reliable happiness can only be found

when we look beyond the changing conditions of mind and matter.

Although the first Noble Truth has been called pessimistic, scholars have pointed out that

Buddhism is neither pessimistic nor optimistic, but realistic. It presents things just as they

are, neither better nor worse. In fact, the Buddhist outlook is one of tremendous hope, since

a solution to the problem of dukkha is given in the fourth Noble Truth, a solution which

amounts to a guarantee: anyone who follows the Eightfold Path all the way will eventually

arrive at the end of suffering.

A person driving across a bridge, a narrow bridge spanning a river, is bound to reach the

other side, if only because there is no place to go but forward. The bridge has no

intersections or turn-offs. A person could stop dead in the middle of the bridge, but as long

as he keeps moving he'll get to the opposite bank of the river. In the same way, as long as

we keep making effort on the Buddhist path, no matter how slowly, we're bound to reach the

further shore, which is liberation from suffering.

Casual readers usually fail to notice how positive and hopeful the message of the Noble

Truths is. But look at what these Truths say: complete freedom from dukkha, a happiness

greater than we can imagine, is a real possibility. Best of all, there's a clear path leading to

that happiness. Nibbana is not something to be obtained by luck or special dispensation but

personal effort, the effort of following a proscribed course of action. And that's something

anyone, whether male or female, can do.

Before hearing about the Noble Truths we weren't aware, even intellectually, that such a

thing as Nibbana might exist. We can't be certain it is real until experiencing it ourselves, of

course. But even so, the mere awareness of the possibility changes things, creating a new

situation in the mind. And over time that possibility might affect the course of our entire

lives.

Since we are aware of that possibility now—even if only from reading this article—we may

decide that Nibbana sounds appealing and is worth making an effort to attain. But most of us

are still content to trudge along in dukkha, unsatisfactoriness. Instead of aiming for the

highest happiness, the Buddha implied, we set our sights too low. (Is that the attitude of a

pessimist?)

Another doctrine contained in the First Noble Truth—the most essential teaching of

Buddhism, in fact—is that of anatta. "Anatta" is another Pali word, variously translated as

"nonself," "not-self," "soullessness," "insubstantiality," "essencelessness," and

"impersonality." Although not explicitly stated, anatta is implied in the First Noble Truth

because dukkha is named; and where there is dukkha, unsatisfactoriness, there is also

anatta, nonselfness.

The Buddha said that, contrary to what most people believe, no self exists anywhere in the

universe, either within us or outside of us. Although it is a necessary linguistic convention to

speak in terms of "me" and "you," in reality selfhood is nothing more than an imaginary

construct, a great deception brought about and perpetuated by ignorance.

What we regard as a person is actually a process of continually-changing mental and physical

components that arise and vanish very rapidly, to be replaced by new phenomena all the

time. These five components are: the matter of the physical body, feelings, perceptions,

volitions (and other mental formations), and consciousness.

None of these things alone constitutes an enduring self or ego, since each one is

impermanent, even consciousness. Collectively they do not form a self, either, since they are

no more than a group of separate elements. There is no alchemy that fuses them into a

homogenous unit. Imagine a bicycle being disassembled, all the parts laid out on the ground.

Where is the bicycle now? It does not exist. There are only separate pieces. "Bicycle" is just

a name for an assemblage of parts, not something that has an indivisible identity. If it can be

split up, it cannot be said to be a self. In the same way, the word "person" is just a

designation for a group of mental and physical components, which in reality do not form an

indivisible entity.

The Buddha taught that there is no autonomous ego standing apart from these five

phenomena, no unchanging "I" that resides outside the process and orchestrates the

different components. The process itself is all there is.

Many people find the teaching of nonself difficult to understand at first. But one way to

approach it is to ask ourselves whether it is truly possible to be in complete control of things,

even our own bodies and minds. It stands to reason, the Buddha taught, that if something is

"me," or even a part of "me," we should be able to manipulate it according to our wishes,

whereas things that don't belong to the self cannot be entirely controlled.

Most of us believe that our bodies belong to us, are part of our selves. But how much control

do we have over the body, really? Sometimes we can make superficial changes, like trying a

new hairstyle or losing weight, to make the body more attractive. But even those changes

are possible only because, at the time, certain natural conditions happen to coincide with our

desires. And there are many more aspects of the body about which that isn't the case.

For example, can we make the body taller with a wish? Or, in a snap of the fingers, change

the body's bone structure, or command its DNA to change? Even if our lives depended on it,

could we force our legs to run at fifty miles per hour? Can we tell a cut to stop bleeding, or

make our cells stop needing oxygen—even for just a few minutes?

It would be useful indeed if we could stop needing oxygen at will, even for a very short time.

But if, for example, we were eating dinner alone and a fish-bone got stuck in the throat, or if

we found ourselves inside a smoke-filled building, or in any of a thousand other dangerous

situations, we wouldn't be able to change this single condition of the body—its dependency

on oxygen—even for a couple of minutes.

It's remarkable, when we think about it, that over the course of a lifetime there isn't a single

window of even two or three seconds in which we have complete control over our physical

body, not even when we're in mortal danger. And because of that we are always vulnerable;

vulnerable to pain, injury, accident, and death. The Buddha wanted us to understand that

there is not one moment of our lives in which that vulnerability goes away and the body is

truly safe.

We may believe we are safe most of the time, but that's only because we haven't

contemplated the true state of things. That doesn't mean we should become fearful and

worry about things that may never happen; only that we should open our eyes to the real

situation and stop identifying with the body as self. If we believe to be self something that

we cannot control, then unhappiness is going to result. But if we gradually stop clinging to

the body as something that truly belongs to us, our anxiety about it will decrease, and so will

our suffering. Then even when illness and death come, we won't get upset. We'll still take

proper care of the body, but in the mind we'll understand that it isn't "me" dying, only the

body, which in truth isn't "me" or "mine."

But if the physical body is not the self, or a part of the self, surely the mind must be ours,

must be our own? We can test this assumption by asking if we've ever had a thought we

didn't want to have. For example, have we ever had an unkind or selfish thought about

someone and then felt ashamed of it? If we are honest with ourselves we will realize the

mind often has thoughts we don't want, thoughts that seem to intrude into consciousness on

their own and make us feel uncomfortable. We wish the thoughts had not appeared and we

want to get rid of them.

Sometimes the mind replays a painful event over and over again, even though we long for a

switch to shut off the "broken record." To take another example, we may remember times

when the mind was angry or racing and we wanted to calm it down, but it stayed very

agitated anyway, despite our desires.

Some people wish they were more intelligent. Wouldn't it be something if we could say to the

mind, "Mind, raise your IQ to 160 immediately," and the mind would oblige? But if the mind

trulywere self, it would have to obey—it would have to get smarter or calm down whenever

we ordered it to do those things. If we told it not to have any bad or painful thoughts, then

such thoughts would never arise.

The Buddha taught that the mind and body cannot be influenced by desire or willpower

alone, and that is one aspect of the teaching of nonself. And if we cannot truly control those

things nearest and dearest to us, our own bodies and minds, how much less control do we

have over situations in general, which involve the external environment and the

unpredictable behavior of other people?

According to the Buddhist teachings, at the deepest level of reality it is impossible to control

or manipulate anything directly, whether internal or external, because all phenomena depend

for their existence on specific causes or conditions. Some people may not understand what

we mean by "conditions," so here is an illustration. Let's say a man is reading an article

about a famous piece of music, Beethoven's "Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor." Although the

man has never actually heard the sonata, the article praises it so much that he wishes he

could play it on the piano himself. But he'd never be able to play it straightaway, having

never heard the sonata before, merely because he wanted to. It wouldn't matter how strong

his willpower was. On the other hand, if he were to listen to the piece and practice it on the

piano, putting in hours of diligent effort, he might be able to perform it one day. But the

performance would be a natural outcome of the time spent practicing, and not just the wish

to perform the sonata.

Listening to and practicing the piece would be necessary conditions for playing it. And those

conditions would in turn depend on many other conditions, such as having access to a

functioning piano, having enough free time to practice, possessing all ten fingers, and so on.

In a similar way, anything we can think of, anything we desire, depends on a unique set of

conditions in order to exist or cease, and no one can change those requirements. The

Buddha taught that this conditionality applies to everything in the universe.

The doctrines of nonself and conditionality are very closely related. These teachings should

not be misunderstood to mean we are powerless, or that all outcomes are predestined. We

can still bring about changes, even total transformations. If we couldn't, then why bother to

train our minds by following the Buddhist teachings? But things can be changed only by

establishing those causes from which the desired outcome arises inevitably, not by forcing it

into existence through willpower.

The teaching of conditionality is most fully-developed in what is called the "doctrine of

dependent origination." According to this teaching, every instance of suffering in the universe

ultimately results from the same predictable, step-by-step process. Fortunately, this causal

chain-reaction can be interrupted and even stopped forever in oneself by training the mind in

meditation. This is not the place to examine this profound teaching in detail, however. For

readers who want to delve into it more deeply, there are many excellent books on the

subject.

Anatta, nonself, is the last of the three characteristics common to all things in the world. The

other two characteristics are: dukkha (unsatisfactoriness or suffering) and anicca

(impermanence). Dukkha we've already talked about, and impermanence was touched on

when we spoke of the transient nature of mind and matter. These three characteristics are

said to be different aspects of a single quality, like different facets of a gem. Although great

thinkers through the ages have remarked on the suffering and impermanence of human

existence (even though they may not have meant the same thing by those terms as the

Buddha did), only the Buddha spoke of anatta.

We have spent much time discussing the doctrine of nonself because it is so fundamental to

Buddhism that the Four Noble Truths and other important teachings cannot truly be

understood without it. The following passage, which is very profound, summarizes nonself in

terms of the Noble Truths:

"Mere suffering exists, no sufferer is found; The deeds are, but no doer of the deeds is

there; Nibbana is, but not the man who enters it; The path is, but no traveler on it is

seen."

— Visuddhimagga

Do not worry if these words seem incomprehensible now. We offer them as food for

contemplation, and understanding will follow in the future.

The Second Noble Truth - Tanha

Now that we know something about dukkha—unsatisfactoriness—the next question is: where

does dukkha come from? We might start by identifying where it does not come from.

Although suffering often seems to originate externally, from the actions of another person, a

force of nature, random accidents, or other circumstances beyond our control, ultimately

these external triggers are not the source of our unhappiness. In the deepest sense, the

cause of dukkha lies within ourselves, although we cannot trace it back to the moment in

which it all started.

But the fact that suffering comes from within instead of without is good news, because it

means we can do something about it. Although the mind cannot be directly controlled,

it can be trained over time. By training our minds in the appropriate way we can gradually

eliminate the cause of suffering, and then suffering itself will stop arising. At that point,

ultimate happiness will no longer be something we only dream about experiencing one day.

According to the Second Noble Truth, the cause of suffering is desire—literally, "thirst."

Although other causes are also involved, desire or craving is the predominant one.

There are two ways in which desire causes suffering. The first way can be seen at almost any

time if we pay close attention, because it happens all day long. As soon as we perceive

something that we believe to be good, the mind desires and then clings to it. Clinging is the

mental act of reaching toward something and grasping it. Whatever we cling to stays in the

mind as an image or memory that we mentally build up and often become obssessed with. It

is possible to cling to anything, whether a person, a physical object or an idea.

For example, let's say someone walks by a pastry shop and sees an apricot tart in the

window. Having judged it to be something desirable, he can't stop thinking about the tart.

Hours later he's still turning it over in his mind, wondering if the shop will be open when he

gets off work, thinking about what he could serve the tart with, and so on. This is clinging.

Clinging can be mild, medium or strong, even strong enough to incite violence.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to buy an apricot tart. But wouldn't it be better to buy it

without agitating oneself in the process? Those who don't train their minds through

meditation can't see clinging very clearly or realize how much it contributes to their

unhappiness. But when we pay close attention to our mental states in the present moment,

we see that grasping immediately puts the mind into an uncomfortable turmoil. We discover

that the state of yearning, even in its mildest form, is unpleasant. Clinging is the very

opposite of peace of mind. In addition, it sets us up for future disappointment if we are

unable to obtain the desired object (and sometimes even if we are). The more we develop

our minds, the more clearly we see the drawbacks of clinging and instinctively want to avoid

it.

Through meditation we learn that if the mind can reach out and mentally grab something, it

can also do the opposite, which is to retract and let go—or not grasp in the first place. This is

not aversion, which tries to avoid or push things away, but just the centered, balanced state

of refraining from clinging. If we train the mind to let go of grasping, then whenever it does

let go we immediately feel more at ease and carefree.

As we learn to stop clinging to things, suffering diminishes and life in general feels much

lighter and easier. We can still buy the pastry, but if it isn't available we aren't disappointed.

This attitude can be applied to all aspects of life. Whenever there is something we want but

cannot get—a certain job, a person, or anything else—we can prevent ourselves from

suffering by not clinging to it. And if we take this approach even further and let go of clinging

completely, even for a short time, it is possible to glimpse the happiness of Nibbana here and

now. People who have had this experience can still lead active lives in the world, but they

aren't disappointed when things don't go their way. The inevitable ups and downs of life

cause them little or no suffering.

The mental agitation created by clinging is the first reason that desire is a cause of suffering.

The second is that desire leads to renewed existence, with all the suffering that entails. As

the Buddha explained, people were not put on this earth because God created them, but

because past desire and ignorance caused each individual to be reborn with the particular

mind and body he has now.

At this point we must introduce another idea that might be unfamiliar to some readers, that

of rebirth. According to the Buddhist teachings, all beings are reborn into the world over and

over again without end. From the Buddhist viewpoint, our present life is only one in a chain

of countless births and deaths stretching back over aeons, and no one can say at what point

this life-process began. The process continues indefinitely for each individual unless he

eliminates desire and ignorance from his mind, which stops the "faring-on."

Each rebirth occurs according to laws of nature, whether we are aware of and consent to the

process or not. Rebirth differs from reincarnation, however, because there is no unchanging

soul or self which passes from one life to the next. Although the new "being" is not identical

to the one from the previous existence, the two are causally linked. The new person, the

Buddha taught, is neither exactly the same as, nor entirely different from, the previous one.

The causal relationship between the two beings has traditionally been compared to the

relation between a sound and its echo, a lamp and its light, an object and its image in a

mirror, and a seal and the impression it makes in wax. Although a sound and its echo are not

identical, the latter could not arise without the former. The same relation applies in the other

examples, and so it is with the rebirth of beings.

Once reborn in the world we have to put up with many unsatisfactory situations and endure

various degrees of suffering throughout our lifetime, which always culminates in illness and

death. That is unavoidable. But if we could prevent birth from occurring, then no dukkha—no

unsatisfactory state—could occur, either. The ultimate aim of the Buddhist is to stop the

process of rebirth and realize Nibbana. Nibbana is said to be complete liberation from the

cycle of birth and death.

The Buddhist teachings presume that the universe operates according to forces of cause and

effect, not chance. The Buddha taught that these natural laws apply on all levels, from the

wheeling of the planets to the splitting of a cell. They govern both external objects and the

internal, subjective events of our own minds and bodies.

The way in which craving leads to suffering is one example of the cause and effect process.

Whenever we desire and then cling to people, objects, feelings, sights, smells, tastes, and so

on, we perform intentional actions in the effort to get what we want and avoid what we

don't. The word "karma" in Buddhism does not mean fate, but simply these volitional

actions. (Actions are not limited to what is done with the body. Our speech, and even

thoughts accompanied by deliberate intention, are also considered actions).

Intentional actions are the generative force that causes beings to be reborn in various levels

of existence, and these volitional deeds stem from desire. The actions may be wholesome,

such as caring for the sick or volunteering at a charity organization, or unwholesome, such

as stealing or committing adultery. Wholesome deeds lead to relatively happy states of

existence, whereas unwholesome ones lead to unhappy, painful states.

But even if we could attain our personal version of the ideal life, that existence would still fall

short of complete happiness. It would still involve some dukkha, unsatisfactoriness, because

it could not last. It would depend on conditions of mind and matter, which are changeable

and temporary. The happiness of Nibbana, the Buddha taught, is superior to the highest

worldly happiness. That's why the aim of a Buddhist is not simply rebirth in a more pleasant

state of existence, but liberation from the birth-and-death process altogether.

A moment ago we mentioned the role of karma, volitional action, in the rebirth process, and

this will be a good place to pause and look at some other aspects of karma that are

important for an overall understanding of Buddhism. As human beings we know that many of

our actions affect other people and the world around us, either for good or ill. That kind of

effect from our deeds is easy to understand. But the Buddha was most concerned with the

effects our good and bad deeds have on ourselves. Regardless of how one's actions affect

others, everyone must experience the results of his own actions, like eating the ripe fruit of

seeds he planted in the past.

The fruit of our actions is called "karma-result." We explained earlier that rebirth is one

effect arising from volitional action, but the results of our past deeds can also be seen on a

smaller scale in day-to-day experience. An illness, an accident, a good job offer, marriage—

all of these events may be viewed as the fruits of past action.

People reap what they sow. If a person plants strawberry seeds, he'll have sweet berries to

eat in the future. If he plants cocklebur seeds, he'll have only spiny, sharp burs. Strawberries

can't come from cocklebur seeds, and burs can't come from strawberry seeds. In the same

way, wholesome actions cannot yield unpleasant results for the person who does them, any

more than unwholesome actions can yield pleasant results.

But according to the Buddhist teachings, the "fruit" of a particular deed might not ripen

immediately, and the time of its ripening cannot be controlled. The result of an action might

not appear until years afterward, or—and this is where rebirth comes in—even in another

lifetime, making it very difficult to see the connection between a wholesome or unwholesome

deed and its effect. It is impossible to know how large the time gap is in a particular case,

because the effects do not come with little labels saying which action caused them. Because

of that time gap, most people are ignorant about the results of their actions and so continue

to perform deeds that bring them suffering.

But the gap between an action and its result helps to answer one of the perennial human

questions, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" and vice-versa. The apparent

unfairness of life can be explained when we take into account the longer timeline implied by

rebirth. The Buddha said that if a good person experiences hardship, it is not due to chance

or bad luck; he is experiencing the ripening fruit of an unwholesome action he performed in

the past, often in a previous existence. But in the future—either later in this life or in a future

lifetime—he will receive the fruit of the wholesome deeds he is performing now and enjoy

great happiness. In the same way, someone who hurts others and yet is fortunate and

prosperous is currently receiving the fruit of a past good action. The bad deeds he is

commiting now will bear fruit in the future, when he will have to undergo unpleasant

experiences such as disease, poverty and so on.

The Buddha taught that the results of our good and bad deeds are not in any sense moral

judgments, but simply the natural operation of cause-and-effect, which is impersonal. Once

we understand karma and its result we can vastly improve our situation, because we will

know what kind of "seeds" to plant in the present and which ones to avoid. As long as we

have not yet realized Nibbana we will be reborn again in the world. For that reason we

should perform wholesome actions so that we may enjoy mundane happiness until Nibbana

is attained.

One last point should be made about karma before we move on: not all intentional deeds

function as a cause for rebirth. In fact, some volitional actions help us to break free of the

cycle of birth and death. These are the actions comprising the Eightfold path, which will be

discussed when we get to the Fourth Noble Truth.

To return now to our main discussion of the Noble Truths, we will conclude this section by

giving a summary of the Second Truth. Desire is the cause of suffering because: 1) Desire

causes clinging, which immediately makes the mind uncomfortable. 2) Under the influence of

desire, people cling to things and perform karma, intentional actions, in order to obtain

them. Those actions produce rebirth, which in turn entails many types of suffering. Stuck in

one flawed existence after another, beings fail to realize the freedom and ultimate happiness

of Nibbana.

The Third Noble Truth - Nirodha

The Third Noble Truth is that of the cessation of dukkha. According to the Buddhist teachings

it is possible for each one of us to become liberated from dukkha, from this conditioned

existence with all its danger, trouble and suffering. The Buddha said, "Verily, there is an

Unborn, Unoriginated, Uncreated, Unformed. If there were not this Unborn, Unoriginated,

Uncreated, Unformed, escape from the world of the born, the originated, the created, the

formed, would not be possible" (Ud.VIII.3).

The Pali word "nirodha" means "extinction," and in this context it is synonymous with

"Nibbana." What is extinguished in Nibbana? The mental impurities of desire, aversion and

delusion, and with them all suffering.

Nibbana should not be misunderstood as being a physical place, a kind of heaven. Buddhist

cosmology describes many realms, including heavens and hells, but existence in all of those

spheres is temporary. Nibbana, on the other hand, is permanent.

Called "the greatest bliss" in the Collection of Middle-Length Discourses, Nibbana is the

summum bonum of the Buddhist path. It was this goal that the Buddha urged his disciples to

work toward with diligence. Even though the Buddha is gone, it is said that Nibbana is still

within reach, and we don't have to wait until after death to see it. The wise tell us that the

contact with Nibbana is right here at the mind, the mind of each one of us.

Nibbana is often described as emptiness—empty of any attachment to anything whatsoever,

void of any "I-making" or belief in self. But Nibbana is not the annihilation of the self, since

no self exists in the first place.

Nibbana must be personally experienced in order to be comprehended. The Noble Ones who

have seen Nibbana tell us it is very difficult to describe because there is nothing to compare

it to. And whatever description one tries to fashion in words will automatically be false in

some regard, since Nibbana is entirely free of mental and physical constructs of any kind,

being the total absence of formations.

Still, we have to resort to language even here for a conceptual understanding, and one

important synonym for Nibbana is "the deathless," the special element in which no birth,

death or change occurs. The meditation teacher Upasika Kee Nanayon said, "There's no

sense of self there, but what is there is… the undying property—free from birth, aging,

illness, and death." And she added, "This Deathlessness is the true marvel the Buddha

discovered and taught to awaken us."

Nibbana is often spoken of as freedom. Other synonyms offered in the Pali Canon are:

unbinding, peace, safety, the far shore, the sublime, the wonderful, the amazing, the subtle,

the unaging, the stable, the undisintegrating, the unailing, the unafflicted, the shelter, the

island, and the refuge. "There's nothing by which you can label it," Upasika Kee said, "but it's

something that you can pierce through to see—that is, by piercing through… craving and

attachment into the state of mind that is pure, bright, and silent. This is the only thing that's

important." When asked how Nibbana compared to the most pleasant worldly experience,

the meditation teacher Achan Sobin Namto replied, "a hundred times better, a thousand

times better."

Nibbana is called the "highest happiness," but happiness of an entirely different type than

what we are used to. For example, take this exchange between the Buddha's chief disciple,

Sariputta, and Udayi. Sariputta declared: "Oh friend! Nibbana is happiness! Nibbana is

happiness!" Udayi asked, "But, friend Sariputta, what happiness can there be if there is no

sensation?" Sariputta replied, "That there is no sensation is itself happiness."

The Fourth Noble Truth - Magga

Having heard of this special refuge, Nibbana, how can we actually attain it? By cultivating the

Eightfold Path, which is the Fourth Noble Truth.

The Eightfold path consists of developing the following wholesome behaviors and states of

mind: right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right

concentration, right understanding, and right thought. They don't have to be cultivated one

by one in a particular order. Several factors, or all of them, are usually developed

simultaneously. (For more information on the individual path-factors, please click on the

link, The Noble Eightfold Path).

These eight factors fall into three broad categories: morality, concentration, and wisdom.

Morality is an essential foundation for mental development. A person who wishes to follow

the Buddhist path should abide by the Five Precepts, which are vows to refrain from the

following unwholesome actions: 1) killing, 2) stealing, 3) sexual misconduct, 4) lying and

harmful speech, and 5) taking intoxicants or recreational drugs. Those who are unable to

follow the fifth precept yet can work toward it gradually, trying to exercise moderation in the

meantime. To follow these precepts is to avoid evil and cultivate the good.

Concentration means to focus the mind so that it is no longer completely wayward, jumping

here and there like a monkey. And "wisdom" refers to seeing that all conditioned phenomena

are impermanent, unsatisfactory, and devoid of self. When this insight is clear enough it

leads to the culmination of the Path, which is a personal realization of the Four Noble Truths.

Concentration and wisdom may be developed through the practice of insight meditation

(vipassana-bhavana), also called "vipassana" and "mindfulness meditation." The practice of

mindfulness is the true heart of Buddhism, and it is indispensible for realizing Nibbana.

Although a full explanation of mindfulness would take much more space than we have here,

put simply, "mindfulness" means to keep one's awareness in the present moment in a

special, precise way instead of thinking about the past or the future.

A vipassana meditator observes his own mind and body with nonjudgmental, impartial

attention. He is aware of thoughts, feelings and bare sense-impressions as they appear and

then pass away in the immediate present. Although other types of meditation existed before

the Buddha's time, it was the Buddha who discovered and systematized the practice of

mindfulness. For those who don't cultivate mindfulness, the Buddhist teachings remain

abstract and sterile—only empty shells of the truth.

The method for practicing insight meditation is described in the "Four Foundations of

Mindfulness Discourse" ("Satipatthana Sutta"), which states: "This is the only way, O

Bhikkhus, for the purification of beings, for the overcoming of sorrow and lamentation, for

the destruction of suffering and grief, for reaching the right path, for the attainment of

Nibbana, namely, the Four Foundations of Mindfulness." The Four Foundations are: 1) the

body, 2) feelings, 3) consciousness and 4) a mixed group which includes emotions, sights,

sounds, smells, touches and tastes. The meditator observes these phenomena as they arise

and then disappear naturally.

To develop mindfulness, concentration and wisdom through meditation is to purify the mind.

That means eliminating delusion so that reality may be seen clearly, like wiping the dust

from a mirror so one's face can be seen. And what is the reality seen when the dust is gone?

That all phenomena are not-self.

The entire Eightfold Path is designed to help people let go of the wrong view of self. Over

time the Buddhist practitioner gradually stops clinging to "his" body and mind until he sees

that in the past he made a mistake in taking them to be his self. They are not, and never

were, his own. They are merely natural phenomena, impersonal and ownerless, not self or

things that belong to an "I." He realizes that the same is true of all other beings and objects

in the world. When seeing nonself clearly, he automatically lets go of desire and clinging.

When desire is momentarily absent, Nibbana appears.

According to the teachings, experiencing Nibbana even for a single moment brings about a

permanent change called "awakening." Because the wrong view of self has been removed,

the different kinds of mental suffering—all of which ultimately stem from clinging to a self—

are greatly reduced and eventually disappear altogether. In addition, a person who has had

this experience cannot continue being reborn in the world indefinitely. Once having entered

the "stream" to Nibbana, he can take rebirth no more than seven times. (Those who have

had the most profound realization will not be reborn at all.) After the last existence he is said

to attain Nibbana permanently, without ever coming back to the world (but again, it should

be understood that in reality there is no self who "enters" Nibbana). At that point all the

pains and discomfort that stem from having a physical body are done away with forever.

That is how eradicating desire removes the entire mass of suffering, both mental and

physical.

Many words have been used to describe the Eightfold Path, and they are helpful for a

theoretical understanding. But the true Buddhist Path is found within, not outside of

ourselves or in books. We don't have to look for it, because it is right here—just this body

and mind. The body is called "rupa" in Pali. The mind is called "nama." These two things,

rupa and nama, are the genuine Path. No matter where we go, the mind and body are there,

too. We take them along and can't escape them. That's why the Buddhist teachings can be

practiced anywhere, at any time.

When first learning about Buddhism we may feel overwhelmed by the amount of information

available. But it's not necessary to read and study a lot. What we really need to study is

ourselves. The practice itself doesn't have to be complicated. Actually, the practice of

mindfulness is so simple that it almost defies description. All we have to do is keep bringing

our attention back to the present moment, over and over again. No matter what we

experience within this body-and-mind—whether a thought, feeling, touch, sight, sound, smell

or taste—we should be aware of it in the present, and then let it go. "Know and let go" is the

Buddhist path in a nutshell. Or we can summarize it even more briefly: don't cling. It all

comes down to that. Don't cling to anything.

Truth transcends ritual, language and labels. The Buddha said, "He who sees the Dhamma

(ultimate Truth) sees me. He who sees me sees the Dhamma." Whether he calls himself a

"Buddhist" or not, anyone who cultivates the good and purifies his mind until nonself is truly

clear will understand how to be free from all suffering.

Dhamma Talks and Essays

Dhamma Talk Transcriptions and Essays

by Bhikkhu Sopako Bodhi (Achan Sobin Namto)

Wayfaring: A Manual For Insight Meditation

The Four Foundations of Mindfulness

Happiness is in the Middle

The Four Noble Truths

Sowing Mindfulness on Khandha Soil

The Practice to Apprehend Reality

Using Clear Comprehension

Coping With Hindrances

When Do You See?

The Role of the Elements in Vipassana Meditation

eBooks by Bhikkhu Sopako Bodhi (Achan Sobin Namto)

Insight Meditation: Practical Steps to Ultimate Truth

Moment to Moment Mindfulness: A Pictorial Manual For Meditators [View as PDF]

Videos

Mindfulness, Step by Step: An Introduction to Vipassana Meditation

The Moment of Moving: A Dhamma Talk by Achan Sobin Namto

Dhamma Essays by Other Authors

(Also see the sidebar for essays on How to Meditate, Vipassana, and Buddhism)

Beginning to See [PDF]

The Lion's Roar: Two Discourses of the Buddha

Self-transformation

Practical Insight Meditation

Practical Vipassana Meditation Exercises

Fundamentals of Insight Meditation

Disconnect the Dots [View as PDF]

Real Buddhism?

The Buddha and His Dhamma

The Five Spiritual Faculties

Purification of Mind

Three Cardinal Discourses of the Buddha

Dhamma and Non-duality

Meditating on No-Self

Fundamentals of Buddhism

Letting Go

Is Jhana Necessary?

The Abhidhamma in Practice

Going for Refuge & Taking the Precepts

The Noble Eightfold Path: The Way to the End of Suffering

Taking Stock of Oneself

Transcendental Dependent Arising

Kalama Sutta

The Buddha's Teachings in His Own Words

The Practice of Giving

The Practice of Loving-Kindness (Metta)

The Three Basic Facts of Existence (Impermanence)

The Buddha's Teaching of Selflessness

The Buddha's Words on Kamma (Karma)

Directing to Self-Penetration

Looking Inward

Reading the Mind

Satipatthana Vipassana

A Good Dose of Dhamma For Meditators When They Are Ill

The Progress of Insight

The Great Discourse on the Wheel of the Dhamma

A Discourse on Malukyaputta Sutta

A Discourse on Dependent Origination

Kamma and Its Fruit

The Elimination of Anger

The Scale of Good Deeds

Nothing Higher to Live For: A Buddhist View of Romantic Love

The Sixteen Stages of Insight

How Long is a Moment?

What's So Great About Now? or [PDF English] or [PDF Vietnamese]

Longer eBooks

Vipassana Bhavana [PDF]

Handbook For Mankind

The Way of Mindfulness

The Great Discourse on Not Self

Our Teacher

One of the first teachers at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Bhikkhu Sopako Bodhi

(Achan Sobin Namto) was born in Wangplado, Thailand, in 1932. While still young he moved

to Bangkok to ordain as a monk and study the Buddhist teachings.

At just nineteen he undertook a seven-month intensive meditation retreat with the great

vipassana master Chao Khun Bhavanapirama Thera, who introduced him to a meticulous

step-by-step method for developing mindfulness.

For some time afterward he lived as a solitary forest monk confronting all the dangers of the

Asian jungle, including tigers and poisonous snakes.

In Thailand and Burma, Ven. Sopako studied vipassana with the most renowned teachers of

the age, including Mahasi Sayadaw. At just twenty-four, Ven. Sopako himself became a

recognized vipassana and abhidhamma teacher ("abhidhamma" means Buddhist

metaphysics). He taught for many years at the famous Section Five of Wat Maha Dhatu

monastery in Bangkok, as well as in many other temples. He later established and ran a

meditation center in southern Thailand.

In 1972, he became Abbot of the first Thai Buddhist Temple ever built in the United States,

in North Hollywood, California. Four years later he organized the founding of Wat

Buddhawararam of Denver, a Buddhist temple that he envisioned would promote the spread

of insight meditation.

Among many commendations, Ven. Sopako has been recognized by the Mayor of Los

Angeles and the King of Thailand for his work in spreading the teachings of Buddhism to the

west.

Ven. Sopako now resides in his home village of Wangplado, Thailand, where he is working to

build a meditation center and a stupa to house the relics of the Buddha. The stupa, or

"pagoda," will replicate the famous Buddhist shrine in Bodhgaya, India, which marks the

place of the Buddha's enlightenment.

Ven. Sopako's students and friends remark on his warmth, compassion and humor, but also

his uncompromising adherence to the original teachings of the Buddha. He is regarded by

many as one of the world's leading authorities on vipassana meditation and abhidhamma.

His tireless efforts to share this knowledge have benefited the world beyond measure.

Our Society

The Vipassana Dhura Meditation Society is a non-profit corporation established in 1986. Its

mission is to make the teachings of insight meditation available to anyone who seeks a way

out of suffering. The society's logo represents the amata dhamma, the unchanging element

wherein birth and death cease, i.e., nibbana. The "points" on the outer circle represent the

thirty-two parts of the body and the four elements: earth, air, fire and water.

Over the years our society, headed by Bhikkhu Sopako Bodhi (Achan Sobin Namto), has

sponsored meditation retreats, lectured to international audiences, and published four full-

sized books as well as numerous booklets. In 2002, a few Denver members raised over

$10,000 selling food at a local restaurant. The money was used to construct the Buddha

Metta statue as well as parts of a meditation hall in Wangplado, Thailand. These endeavors

belong to a larger project to establish an international meditation center in that village. We

are currently raising money for a pagoda, a near-replica of the one in Bodhgaya, India,

where the Buddha attained enlightenment.

We would be delighted to hear from you. Although most of his time is now taken up with the

pagoda project, Bhikkhu Sopako continues to offer occasional meditation retreats. Please

contact us with any questions regarding vipassana, your own meditation practice, or

retreats. We will try to answer your queries promptly.

Vipassana Dhura Meditation Society

12118 E. Amherst Circle

Aurora, Colorado 80014

(303) 752-5347

vipassanadhura@yahoo.com

Purchase Books and Videos

Wayfaring: A Manual for Insight Meditation

Author: Achan Sobin S Namto

Publisher: Buddhist Publication Society

U.S. Customers: $3.95 Click here to order

International Customers: $0.75 Click here to order

Please note that you can access the full text of Wayfaring: A Manual for Insight

Meditationfrom the Dhamma Talks and Essays page.

Insight Meditation: Practical Steps to Ultimate Truth

Author: Achan Sobin S Namto

Publisher: Vipassana Dhura Meditation Society

$9.95 *Free shipping

Add to Cart

Dhamma Talk by Sobin S Namto

Video Cassette (VHS Tape - NTSC)

Publisher: Vipassana Dhura Meditation Society

$9.95 *Free shipping

Add to Cart

Just Seeing

Insight Meditation and Sense-Perception

Author: Cynthia Thatcher

Publisher: Buddhist Publication Society

U.S. Customers: $10.95 Click here to order

International Customers: $4.00 Click here to order

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*Free shipping includes Media Mail/Book Rate within the United States, and Surface Mail

elsewhere in the world. International purchasers who wish to upgrade to Airmail, please

contact us at vipassanadhura@yahoo.com before placing your order.

Vipassana Audios

GUIDED MEDITATIONS

Meditation #1: rising and falling (15 minutes) This easy guided meditation is perfect for those who have never meditated before. While

listening to the teacher's instructions and gentle encouragement, you focus on the abdominal

movements that occur naturally as you breathe. No prior meditation experience necessary.

(To read more detailed instructions or watch a video clip of this exercise, please refer to the

link: How to Meditate.)

Meditation #2: rising and falling (30 minutes) In this longer guided meditation you observe the rise and fall of the abdomen that happens

as you breathe. The instructor explains how to respond to distracting thoughts and

unpleasant emotions. You're encouraged to gently accept whatever happens in meditation

without judging it—simply watching, with impartial awareness, whatever arises.

DHAMMA TALKS

Happiness Is in the Middle: Exchanging the Attitude

of the Mind From Suffering to Happiness Before finding happiness, we first have to find out where unhappiness comes from.

Through meditation we can discover the cause of unhappiness and eliminate it.

The Four Foundations of Mindfulness This talk discusses the way to develop mindfulness in order to gain liberating wisdom, based

on the Buddha's instructions for vipassana meditation in the "Discourse on the Four

Foundations of Mindfulness."

A Good Dose of Dhamma For Meditators When They Are Ill These forthright, profound teachings on nonself, impermanence, and "the knowing that lets

go of knowing" are relevant to all meditators, whether ill or not. Learn what to do so there

can be, "release from suffering right before our very eyes."

Pagoda Grows in Thailand

In the winter of 2000 Bhikkhu Sopako Bodhi (then Achan Sobin Namto) traveled to

Bodhgaya, India, the site where the Buddha gained enlightenment. There, near the famous

Mahabodhi Temple, he ordained for a second time into the sangha, the community of

Buddhist monks.

The Mahabodhi temple houses one of the world's most impressive Buddha statues, the

Buddha Metta or Buddha of Loving-Kindness. Bhikkhu Sopako decided to commission a

statue in the image of the Buddha Metta and also build a large pagoda in which to house it.

(A pagoda is a multi-storied memorial tower.) Like the

Buddha statue, the pagoda would be a replica of the one at the Mahabodhi Temple. These

would be erected at the monastery in his hometown of Wangplado, Thailand.

In early 2004, a meditation hall on the grounds of Bhikkhu Sopako's monastery burned to

the ground. The Buddha statue inside was irreparably damaged. He and the other monks

commissioned workers to rebuild the hall. At the same time, artisans began to construct the

Buddha Metta statue from the highest quality Burmese white jade, to replace the one

damaged in the fire. This new statue, completed in 2004, is nearly five feet across at the

base, and well over five feet high. The funding for the Buddha Metta statue and part of the

meditation hall was raised by a group of Ven. Sopako's students from Denver, Colorado.

After completing the Buddha statue and rebuilding the meditation hall, Ven. Sopako began

planning for the larger pagoda project, which will eventually include an international

meditation center. This plan required finding an architect willing to travel to India to make

sketches from the original building.

Some signs of transformation are already evident in Wangplado. Preparation has begun to

lay the foundation for the pagoda. The new meditation hall glints red and gold in the sun.

And visitors can see the individual meditation huts (kutis) dotted around the pond. In this

tranquil, natural setting, students from all over the world can practice meditation in the same

type of hut used by Thai monks.

Establishing the pagoda and meditation center in Wangplado will allow Bhikkhu Sopako to

spread the teaching of vipassana to greater numbers of people in his last years. Although he

has dedicated his life to helping others be free of suffering, although he's spent forty-five

years teaching vipassana in temples and centers around the world, Ven. Sopako has never

had a center that he could call his own. It is his sincere hope that by establishing a

meditation center in Wangplado his teachings will survive him and continue to benefit beings

everywhere. This dhamma is too precious to lose.

But Bhikkhu Sopako needs your help if the project is to succeed. As he is now in his

seventies and in poor health, he relies on a staff of assistants. Moreover, the current funding

for the project is not adequate. Any help that you might offer, whether a donation of time,

services, or money, would be tremendously appreciated. Would you like to help?

Your donation of time or money to the Vipassana Dhura Meditation Society, a 501C3

nonprofit corporation, will not only help Bhikkhu Sopako complete this great work, but will

bring merit and benefit to your own life. It doesn't matter what amount you donate; even

five or ten dollars will help.

However, Ven. Sopako realizes that not everyone is able to make a monetary donation. He

wants his students and friends to know that the support of the mind is the most important

support you can provide. Whether you donate money or not, he asks that you keep his

project in your minds and hearts. If we all take the time to visualize its completion, the

power of our combined thoughts will be of great benefit.

Visit Wat Wangplado

Other Buddhist Sites

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related to Vipassana meditation. If you would like to place our link on your site, simply cut

and paste the following text and link the title to: http://www.vipassanadhura.com

Vipassana Meditation Techniques

Vipassana Dhura Meditation Society is a non-profit corporation established in 1986. Its

mission is to make the teachings of insight meditation available to anyone who seeks a way

out of suffering.

Websites with information about vipassana meditation and/or

Theravada Buddhism —

Association for Insight Meditation: The central teaching of Buddhism is mindfulness,

which leads to insight. Insight removes craving and delusion, the causes of suffering, and so

a diligent meditator enjoys mental peace.

Access to Insight: Readings in Theravada Buddhism. This website offers an extensive

library of Buddhist Sutras from the Pali canon, the earliest record of the Buddha’s teachings.

Buddhist Publication Society: The Buddhist Publication Society offers authentic literature

on Buddhism. BPS publications represent the standpoint of Theravada Buddhism, the oldest

living Buddhist tradition. In nearly five decades the BPS has become a major Buddhist

publisher with hundreds of titles distributed in ninety countries.

Mahasi Sayadaw’s Discourses: The most extensive listing of Venerable Mahasi Sayadaw’s

writings on vipassana meditation and Buddhism. Go to "treatises" for a list of more than two

dozen ebooks and booklets by the Sayadaw in English.

Beyond The Net: Offering a comprehensive presentation of Theravada Buddhism.

Nibbana: "Presenting Theravada Buddhism in its pristine form," with an emphasis on the

Burmese tradition.

A Buddhist Library: This Buddhist educational resource site is a compilation of ebooks and

articles. The teachings of the historical Buddha can be found in the Theravada section and in

Suttas I and II.

Buddha Sasana: A Buddhist page by Binh Anson offering an extensive list of articles, many

from the Theravada tradition.

Buddhanet: A Buddhist information and education network offering a worldwide directory of

Buddhist centers and organizations.

The Yellow Robe: Distributing the original teachings of the Buddha to the Internet

Community.

Mahasi Sayadaw USA: The American Burmese Buddhist Association, with information on

practice centers in the tradition of Mahasi Sayadaw.

The House of Dhamma: The House of Dhamma is a meditation center in the Jatujak

district of northern Bangkok.

Websites with information about Meditation Techniques other than

Vipassana, including Hindu Mantra meditation —

Yoga Meditation Techniques: Learn about different types of yoga meditation with guided

meditation techniques and meditation sutras.