Chris Kang
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It was eight years ago, amid the material comforts of city living
and the demanding pressures of academic pursuits, that I first encountered the
gentle and profound teachings of the Buddha. At that time a natural curiosity
about the nature of the mind, and encounters with the concepts of biology and
theoretical physics, had awakened in me a healthy appetite for intellectual
nourishment. It is therefore not surprising that I was immediately attracted to
the philosophical and psychological genius of the Buddha. What I at that time
accepted intellectually of Buddhism led me, in due course, to the practice of
meditation, which is the central axis of Buddhist spiritual life.
I began my meditation practice with mindfulness of breathing (anapana-sati) and cultivation of
loving-kindness (metta-bhavana), two
techniques widely practised by Theravada Buddhists in
Sri Lanka, Thailand, and Burma. As I had no teacher at the time, and
consequently had to rely on a small paperback manual on Buddhist meditation, my
practice did not really take off. It remained intermittent and rather
unenthusiastic until some five years ago, when I met my Buddhist teacher, the
Venerable Shravasti Dhammika.
He became instrumental in launching me into serious and committed meditation
practice, practice that has continued to the present day.
The above preamble sets the background for this account of my
subjective experiences during some two years of practising
mindfulness of breathing and loving-kindness meditation. In the first
half-year, this comprised a daily average of fifteen minutes of mindfulness of
breathing followed by ten minutes of loving-kindness meditation. By the second
year, the daily average for the two types of meditation had increased to about
forty minutes and twenty minutes respectively. That second year also included
two semi-intensive retreats. The first retreat lasted four days, during which
the daily practice time totalled four and a half
hours; the second was of three days duration, with the daily practice time
increased to six hours. This, however, was not the whole of my meditative
regime during the period in question. I was also practising
general mindfulness (satipatthana) as far as
possible when not engaged in formal mindfulness of breathing and
loving-kindness meditation. However, that mindfulness practice is not described
here.
The Meditative
Techniques
Mindfulness of breathing, or anapana-sati,
is a traditional Buddhist meditation technique aimed at purifying and unifying
the mind through sustained concentration on the breath during inhalation and
exhalation. Attention is fixed at the nostrils, at the point against which the
moving air strikes, because it is there that the entry and exit of breath can
be observed. No attempt is made to hold or stop the breath, or to deliberately
deepen or force it into a definite time rhythm. As Nyanaponika
Thera states, "The only task here is to follow
the natural flow of the breath mindfully and continuously, without a break or
without unnoticed break." Any thoughts that arise in the course of the
meditation are merely noted, and attention is gently returned to the point of
observation. A major goal of the practice is the attainment of states of deep
unification called jhanas, characterised
by total immersion of the mind in its object and a progressive elimination of
thoughts and emotions.
Meditation on loving-kindness, or metta-bhavna,
is another traditional Buddhist meditation technique. It has the twofold aim of
(a) strengthening the quality of unbounded and universal loving-kindness within
the mind, and (b) attaining the first three jhanas.
The practice begins with sitting quietly with fully
or half closed eyes and back erect, and arousing within oneself the emotion of
joy and kindness. One then silently wishes "May I be well and happy,"
while suffusing oneself with kind and loving emotions. This is followed by
evoking the image of someone that one respects or likes, and extending these
emotions to him or her, while wishing, "May you be well and happy."
The same procedure is then used in turn for a neutral person, a disliked
person, and finally for all sentient beings. It thus involves a gradual
progression in the extension of loving-kindness, from the individual to all
living beings without exception, and in all directions: in front, to the right,
behind, to the left, below and above. The commentarial advice given for
beginners in this practice is not to extend loving-kindness to someone of the
opposite sex, as this might evoke emotions of lust or attachment. A dead person
who was dear to one is also an unsuitable object, as this might arouse emotions
of grief and sadness. It is stressed that the first person to be suffused with
loving-kindness should be oneself, since self-acceptance forms the basis of any
genuine acceptance of other beings.
The First Four Months
I began meditating with fifteen minutes of mindfulness of
breathing each day. During the first few weeks of practice, I was overwhelmed
by the barrage of thoughts, images, emotions, and even sounds or voices, that
were constantly "swimming" in the mind. This was not evident to me
until I had to make repeated attempts to focus attention on a single object
(the breathing). I started to become aware of how unaware I had always been of
these ubiquitous mental states and contents. The constant flow of images and
inner sounds would so often occupy the entire field of consciousness that it
was extremely difficult to pay concentrated attention to the breath. This led
to a gradual build-up of frustration and doubt, which on certain days grew
almost unbearable. On such days I would abandon my fruitless attempts to attend
to the breath and instead engage in chanting traditional praises to the Buddha,
Dhamma and Sangha. This
would often result in a certain degree of upliftment
and purity of mind that imparted a quiet tranquility to my otherwise difficult
practice.
Devotional practices, such as chanting and symbolic offerings of
light, flowers and incense, while not essential to Buddhist practice, have
often been found useful in calming and unifying the mind -- a valuable
preliminary to formal meditation practice. With persistent effort, and a firm,
affirming confidence in Dhamma, I was gradually able
to maintain concentration on the breath for increasingly longer periods without
unnoticed break. By the end of the fourth month of practice, I was able to
maintain concentration for twenty minutes at a time with comparative ease.
Each day, following my mindfulness of breathing, I would proceed
to the practice of loving-kindness meditation. This involved extending loving
thoughts and feelings to myself and others without
undue thinking and emotional involvement. My initial attempts brought the
feeling that the whole procedure was rather contrived and artificial. I had
felt, at the time, that the practice was not very
different from the psychological technique of auto-suggestion and therefore was
suspect. Nevertheless, I decided to temporarily suspend my scepticism
and critical appraisal of the practice so as to give it a fair trial.
Another difficulty I encountered in the course of this practice
was constant emotional involvement in the images I had evoked, whether of a
loved one or of a disliked one, often resulting in a whole train of discursive
thinking connected with the images. At such times I would forget the aim of the
practice and become completely immersed in my personal mental melodramas. It
usually took me some time to notice that I had wandered. This recognition had
the effect of automatically re-establishing the practice. By the end of the
first two months, I was feeling increasingly doubtful about the value of this
practice. The sense of its artificiality came to me with greater intensity than
before. I persisted nevertheless. By the fourth month of practice, I found myself
more able to stay with the practice without being sidetracked. I also began to
feel more natural and at ease with the procedure.
The First Year
By this time in my breath-watching practice, the flow of thoughts
was no longer the main problem. Instead, the increased ability to sustain
attention elicited an intensifying boredom in the observation process. The
breath was by nature not at all interesting to watch, and I was very quickly
overcome by a dullness and drowsiness of mind. There came a point when brief
periods of awareness would be interrupted by longer periods of a semi-consciousness, sleep-like state, during which the
mind was totally inattentive to the breath. The meditation sessions often
resulted in a heavy, uncomfortable pressure in the head that would subside
whenever the mind was aroused by some object or activity of great interest.
This made me more aware of the intimate link between the body and the mind, and
of how profoundly psychological states influence one's physical condition.
By the beginning of the seventh month of practice, I was sitting
in meditation for a total of forty-five minutes per day: half an hour of
mindfulness of breathing, followed by fifteen minutes of loving-kindness
meditation. Drowsiness continued to be a problem in observing the breath, but
never seemed to interfere with the practice of extending kind and loving
thoughts. This seemed to be because radiating loving-kindness to
mentally-evoked images aroused more interest than watching the breath at the
nostrils. It was not until the end of the seventh month of breathing practice
that I began to experience a relative freedom from drowsy episodes, except on
days when I was physically tried.
There were days when the benefits of meditation practice became
apparent to me, as the mind began to grow in calmness and alertness. Such times
were often characterized by a pliancy and lightness of mind coupled with a
seemingly effortless attention to the breathing process. During these periods,
I noted a sense of enthusiastic interest in the practice. Whenever this mental
quality was present, boredom and drowsiness would be absent. With this noticing
of the mutual exclusivity of incompatible mental states, I felt I had realized
a simple but significant and fundamental aspect of the nature of the mind. On
certain occasions, this enthusiastic interest in Dhamma
practice would manifest as an emotion of uplifting joy which would pervade the
whole upper body. Any thoughts that were still present seemed to have lost much
of their force and energy, such that they no longer had the power to distract
the focused attention.
Upon terminating the meditation session, I would experience a deep
sense of peace and relaxation, which would linger on throughout the day, as
long as activities were not too rushed or emotionally intense. Also, such
occasions would result in a spontaneous and expansive flow of warm and kind
feelings, which naturally led to a deep and genuine experience of
loving-kindness for all beings. On such days, and for a long time after that,
my earlier doubts about, and resistance to, loving-kindness practice dissolved.
I was finally able to touch a deep and loving part of my heart to a degree I
never thought possible. The gradual extension of loving-kindness from myself to
all beings resulted in a state of consciousness which, though brief, was
blissful, expansive, and non-limiting.
The Second Year
In the second year of practice, I increased the mindfulness of
breathing to forty minutes daily and the loving-kindness meditation to twenty
minutes. It was also during this period that I did the two semi-intensive
retreats mentioned earlier. My ability to attend to the breath without
unnoticed break steadily improved, though it was still not without the
regressions into excessive discursive thinking, worries, fantasies, and
occasional bouts of drowsiness. I noticed that whenever the mind was immersed
in trains of thoughts, there was almost invariably some underlying emotional
state that seemed to be generating these thoughts: worry, fear, anticipation,
excitement, or (more subtly) a state of apathy or lack of interest (resulting
in thoughts as a means of distraction or entertainment). Generally, however,
there was improved concentration and a heightened capacity to be relaxed yet
alert and relatively tranquil in the course of my daily life.
In loving-kindness practice there was becoming evident an
increased ability to feel genuine and sincere acceptance of, even warmth for, a
disliked person. As I practised looking deeply at the
image of the disliked person in question, with a non-judgemental
mind, and without entering into unprofitable conceptual proliferation about her
faults and weaknesses, I found myself more able to appreciate her as another
being who shares in the universal ailments of greed, aversion, delusion, and
hence suffering. With this change in perspective came a corresponding decrease
in dislike and an increase in warm, positive feeling for the person. These
manifested in an improved and more harmonious relationship between us. It was
also becoming increasingly easy for me to extend deep feelings of love and
acceptance to myself, to those dear to me, and in fact to all beings. While it
was technically impossible to conceptualize each and every living being in the
universe, it remained possible for me to visualize as many beings as I could
recall (both human and non-human) and to relate similar feelings of warmth and
love to them without judging or discriminating.
One profound experience I had in the course of this practice left a
deep and lasting impression on me. On the occasion in question, I sat and
commenced with mindfulness of breathing as usual, which left my mind with a
sense of lightness and happiness. As I proceeded to wish myself well and happy,
a sudden gush of rapturous joy welled up within me in the region of the middle
chest, then spread and permeated my neck, face, head, shoulders, hands, and
even down to my lower abdomen. With this pervasive and uplifting feeling came a
momentary one-pointedness and an expansion of the
spatial boundaries of consciousness. In retrospect, I realised
that in that moment of oneness and expansion the mind was totally still with
not a single thought. However, slight trickles of thought soon re-emerged as
the experience of mental concentration and expansion gradually faded. These
thoughts seemed to move much more slowly than usual and lacked the power to
disturb my tranquillity. In such a state, I continued
with the expansion of loving-kindness to a dear one, a neutral person, a
disliked person, and finally to all beings, with a depth, authenticity, and
naturalness that previous sessions had lacked. I was left with an openness of
heart and a sensitivity of spirit that carried over into the next two days or
so.
There were also three related experiences worth mentioning here.
The first was an ability to notice increasingly minute details of the breathing
process. I noticed that every inhalation ended with a short pause, during which
no movement of the breath occurred; then followed the movement of exhalation,
which ended in another short pause. This cycle repeated itself with the
commencement of the next inhalation. I also observed that even the fleeting
phenomenon of a single breath (one inhalation or exhalation) had extension in
time, a distinct beginning, middle, and end of movement. The attention,
however, was not equally keen and clear in all three phases, the middle and end
of each breath often being more distinct than the beginning. It seemed to me
that the reason for this was that breathing had been so much an unconscious and
involuntary process that I was normally unaware of its existence, let alone of
the distinct phases of the whole process. It was thus to be expected that any
attempt to observe the process keenly would result in an intermittent
awareness, which often arose somewhat more slowly than the inhalation itself.
The task was, therefore, to cultivate an evenly-applied mindfulness that would
sustain itself through all three phases of the inhalation -- and indeed through
the whole breathing cycle, incorporating the pauses and and
the three phases of each inhalation and exhalation. The recognition that an
evenly-applied mindfulness was my next task proved to be another important
insight into how the mind is to be focused -- an insight that has greatly
facilitated my concentration practice since then.
I therefore put an increased amount of energy into watching
clearly the distinct phases of both inhalation and exhalation together with the
pauses, with the aim of sustaining an even, continuous attention throughout.
With repeated effort, I finally succeeded in achieving this for an extended
period. Following this a new type of sensory experience became apparent. I felt
vivid tactile sensations, in the form of subtle rapid vibrations, at the tip of
each nostril and around the upper lip. These tactile sensations became more
distinct and concrete whenever mindfulness increased in intensity and duration.
At this stage, when strong continuous mindfulness was present, the three phases
of the breathing were no longer apparent, as they seemed to have dissolved into
a rapid succession of minute vibrations. The flow of rapid vibrations occupied
the whole field of consciousness, and there was a deep one-pointedness
and an immense vacuity of mind. For an instant, my whole physical world would
seem to have collapsed into oblivion, with a total loss of bodily perceptions
except for the concentrated awareness of rapid vibrations.
From this second experience, and apparently as a direct
consequence of it, there immediately followed the third experience. Sustained
application of attention to the vibratory sensations would gradually lead to a
point where the vibrations would suddenly disappear,
leaving a spacious ground of greatly expanded awareness that seemed to have no
distinct boundaries. It was as if the threshold of consciousness had been
reached. This altered state of consciousness was, however, very short-lived,
lasting only for a finger-snap. Its termination was followed by the preceding
experience of tactile vibrations. This profound experience occurred very
rarely, and mostly during the periods of retreat when the pressures and
distractions of mundane existence were largely absent. It would invariably
result in a state of strong mindfulness and mental clarity, heightened
perceptual sensitivity and calmness, which would then persist for hours or even
days on end.
Critical Appraisal
The above is a phenomenological account of my experience with
mindfulness of breathing and loving-kindness meditation. It is of interest to
compare this account with the Buddha's descriptions of meditative experience as
recorded in the Pali suttas.
The first jhana, the first stage in the
process of mental unification, is repeatedly described in the suttas as follows:
Being thus detached from
sense desires, detached from unwholesome states, he enters and remains in the
first jhana, which is with thinking, and pondering,
born of detachment, filled with delight and joy. [D.i,
73]
As mentioned earlier, there was a time during my breath-watching
practice when, in the absence of certain "unwholesome" states (namely
frustration, doubt, drowsiness, excessive thinking) and the presence of
enthusiasm and joy, the mind was effortlessly attentive to the breathing
process, pliant, and light. "Thinking" and "pondering" were
present but the thoughts lacked the energy and power to distract the mind from
its object of concentration. This experience seems to correspond very closely
to the Buddha's description of first jhana.
In the Tevijja Sutta,
the
Then, with his heart
filled with loving-kindness, he dwells suffusing one quarter, the second, the
third, the fourth. Thus he dwells suffusing the whole
world, upwards, downwards, across, everywhere, always with a heart filled with
loving-kindness, abundant, unbounded without hate or ill-will. [D.i, 250-251]
As mentioned before, when my loving-kindness meditation was
preceded by a pliancy and lightness of mind with relative freedom from
thoughts, spontaneous feelings of joy and warmth would arise from within and
lead to an almost effortless pervasion of the whole world with loving-kindness.
In that state, the mind was filled with a sense of delight and openness. This
experience seems to correspond to the Buddha's description just quoted. More
importantly, it lends credence to the idea of sequential progression in
meditative training: prior attainment of the first jhana
greatly facilitates successful practice of extending loving-kindness.
The sutta description of the second jhana is as follows:
Again, a monk, with the
subsiding of thinking and pondering, by gaining inner tranquillity
and oneness of mind, enters and remains in the second jhana,
which is without thinking and pondering, born of concentration, filled with
delight and joy. [D.i, 74]
In describing one profound experience I had in the course of
loving-kindness practice, I mentioned three specific mental factors present,
namely an uplifting joy permeating my body, mental one-pointedness,
and a momentary but total absence of thoughts. This experience was, therefore,
significantly similar to the Buddha's description of the second jhana.
The sutta describe
a further set of advanced meditative attainments, namely the arupa or formless jhanas,
four distinct and progressively more subtle stages. The first arupa jhana is described as
follows:
By completely transcending
all perception of matter, by the vanishing of the perception of sense
reactions, and by non-attention to the perception of variety, realising: "Space is infinite," one enters and
abides in the Sphere of Infinite Space. [D.ii, 71]
I described above the experience of rapid subtle vibrations that
occupied the whole field of consciousness, with loss of body sense and of
perception of distinct breath phases. This bears a loose similarity to the sutta account just quoted. The disappearance of body sense
and of distinct breath phases seems to correspond to the "vanishing of the
perception of sense reactions" and "non-attention to the perception
of variety." The sense of limitless expansion of the mind-space -- filled
completely by the perception of subtle vibrations -- and the apparent
disappearance of the breath and the physical world, further suggest that my
experience was of the first arupa jhana.
The second arupa jhana
is described thus:
By transcending the
Sphere of Infinite Space, thinking: "Consciousness is infinite," one
enters and abides in the Sphere of Infinite Consciousness. [D.ii,
70]
This invites comparison with the third set of experiences
described earlier. The sudden disappearance of the vibrations, accompanied by
dissolution of the boundaries of consciousness and thus attainment of a
wider-encompassing awareness, can be seen as corresponding to the
characteristics of the second arupa jhana as just quoted.
Some Final Thoughts
Diligent and sustained practice of mindfulness of breathing and
loving-kindness meditation is a fruitful and spiritually fulfilling endeavour that results in an enhanced state of awareness
and a transformation of unwholesome mental patterns in one's daily life. The
above comparison indicates, furthermore, that the altered states of
consciousness to which these practices lead correspond closely to certain of
the jhanas as described in the Pali
texts.
An important point to note is that the jhanas
are not permanent states which, once arisen, will remain unfluctuating.
Persistent diligent, and insightful practice is
essential to the consolidation of such positive mental states in one's
meditation and life.
Personally, I find that these practices have brought a deeper
understanding of the following words of the well-known meditation master, Sumedho Thera:
[The Buddhist texts] are
not meant to be "sacred scriptures" that tell us what to believe. One
should read them, listen to them, think about them, contemplate them, and
investigate the present reality, the present experience with them. Then, and
only then, can one insightfully know the truth beyond
words.
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[Originally published in The
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