Below is an excerpt from my forthcoming book…
© Mahabodhi Burton
16 minute read
This excerpt is from Chapter 10 and follows on from The Dhyanas.
Morality
By morality the Buddha doesn’t mean conventional morality, but the natural morality that consists in first seeing, and then bringing into being, the conditions that actually lead to happiness in experience. Hence morality is keenly tied to the practice of mindfulness, in particular the Four Foundations of Mindfulness, thus:
Mindfulness of the body
We usually think of morality as being concerned with curbing our desires so that we do not do harm, and promoting beneficial outcomes, but Buddhism has a broader remit, because there are conditions other than these that have a positive or negative bearing on suffering; the body is one.
I feel that many Buddhists are vague about this; they do not view the state of their body as an ethical issue, only their intentions. As a result, they may wilfully disregard their bodies’ state, and, as a result, when they come to meditate will effectively waste much of the session fighting their body, rather than getting on with the meditation.
Although the monk can in theory practice mindfulness of the body in all situations, in practice it is most easily developed in sitting meditation, in which new input is reduced to a minimum, allowing the bodily state of the meditator to gradually become apparent and be dealt with.
By allowing his body to sit in a balanced way so that its’ bones take its’ weight, and its’ muscles relax in the knowledge they are supported, the mind will experience the singular, stable, reassuring physical presence of the body. Thus, the monk achieves the best conditions to support mental concentration and absorption; this is why the meditative state is so stable (no will is involved in maintaining it; only natural conditions that support concentration). It is only when this balance is not maintained that his mind is forced back from its’ singular focus to the world of bodily concerns.
His ability to maintain his posture is supported or constrained by the energy levels in his body. Morality in the sphere of the body includes making sure that his energy Is neither sluggish nor over-stimulated.
Counteracting bodily energy that is sluggish
In life in general it is obviously extremely important that we have constant access to good physical energy, if we are to contribute anything substantial to the ‘world community.’ Shantideva puts it bluntly in relation to ‘The perfection of vigour’:
‘Without vigour there is no merit, just as there is no movement without wind. … Sloth comes from idleness, indulging in pleasures, sleep, the longing to lean on others, and from apathy for the sufferings of cyclic existence.’[1] (My emphasis)
This is not a judgement, just a fact. And while Shantideva is including here the mental attitude of apathy, this is often conditioned by our physical state. The hindrance of ‘sloth’ concerns physical sluggishness—it represents unhelpfully low energy in the body in relation to skilful activity. When this hindrance is present access to the dhyanas is denied, however, we can directly provide stimulation to the body through practising stimulating bodywork before meditation or by a regular regime of exercise, and sometimes we can work on it successfully within meditation by paying attention to the balance of our posture.
Counteracting energy that is over-stimulated
People with a lot of energy, when required to sit still, will often feel restless. We need energy; energy is a good thing, but unless it is balanced by calm and relaxation it will be difficult to concentrate the mind, or to reflect—maybe difficult to reflect on what we are putting our energy into. The hindrance of ‘restlessness’ concerns physical agitation—here the energy in the body is unhelpfully stimulated, likewise barring access to the dhyanas. However, we can calm restlessness by practising relaxing bodywork before the meditation or by a regular regime of conscious relaxation—and sometimes we can work on it successfully within meditation by paying attention to letting our posture take our weight.
The monk’s ability to maintain his meditative concentration is supported or constrained by the energy levels in his mind. Morality in the sphere of the mind includes making sure that his mental energy Is neither dull nor over-stimulated.
Counteracting mental energy that is dull
Sometimes our mind can be in a dull groggy state when we have just woken up, or when we have been addressing a number of tasks one after another and are now at the point where we can no longer think straight; the Image that the Buddha uses for sloth and torpor is of a stagnant pond choked with weeds. The hindrance of ‘torpor’ concerns mental dullness; it represents unhelpfully low energy in the mind in relation to skilful activity. When this hindrance is present access to the dhyanas is denied. However, we can address torpor by choosing to attend to a stimulating object, for instance we may choose to attend to something unpredictable—unpredictability tends to be stimulating, whereas regularity and repetition (think of rocking a baby to sleep) tend to be relaxing—such as the detail in the sensation of our breath. Or if our eyes are closed in meditation, we may open them. In this way we can sharpen up our attention, and thus restore the energetic conditions for —access to the dhyanas.
Counteracting mental energy that is over-stimulated
Many people come to meditation for help in with dealing with their anxiety. When a person is anxious their mind is intensely stimulated by all the things that they are worried about. Those things may be both real or imagined; they may be both valid or invalid concerns, but to the person themselves they are, each and every one, real, and therefore difficult to put out of the mind, or even to think about very clearly.
If we are to meditate effectively, first we really need to deal with our anxiety, which manifests as an over-abundance of energy in the mind. Anxiety is best dealt with either by facing it, or by grounding it; speaking to the perfection of patience, Shantideva points to the disadvantage in avoiding difficulty; in doing so we often make things worse:
‘Cold, heat, rain and wind, journeying and sickness, imprisonment and beatings: one should not be too squeamish about them. Otherwise, the distress becomes worse. … This comes from the bravery or cowardice of the mind. Therefore, one should become invincible to suffering, and overpower discomfort.’
The hindrance of ‘anxiety’ then concerns mental agitation—here the energy in the mind is unhelpfully stimulated, likewise barring access to the dhyanas. To address anxiety, we need to bring our attention down into the body; to spell out our situation to ourselves, as in the grounding meditation. Or we can choose a repetitive task, where we are dealing with something predictable—in this way we can restore the energetic conditions necessary for access to the dhyanas.
These hindrances are not so much states to consciously avoid through an act of will-power; this strategy is very likely to be counterproductive as will only introduces tension into the system—they are best seen as unhelpful states that arise when certain supportive conditions are not being met.
Mindfulness of feeling
Once these are met, and there is confidence in the Buddhist path, it will be easy for the mind to pay attention to whatever it chooses—and it can choose feeling, as much of morality is concerned with how we respond to different kinds of feeling.
- Physical feeling–Mindful attention is given to physical feeling only, so that the monk looks after his own body and those of others.
- Mental feeling–When the monk has a painful physical feeling that he can do nothing about, it is best that he accepts that feeling rather than rail against it, thus not adding a second arrow to the first.
- Worldly and spiritual feeling–And developing an ethical sensibility that distinguishes worldly feeling from spiritual feeling, the monk recognizes worldly feeling as worldly feeling, and he therefore doesn’t act on it; and he recognizes spiritual feeling as spiritual feeling, and he therefore acts on it. Thus, he avoids reacting to pleasant sensation with sense desire and to painful sensation with hatred or aversion; the fourth and fifth hindrances.
Mindfulness of mind
As well as cultivating the appropriate creative emotional response to feeling, the monk works the other aspects of his mind so that they too conduce to skilfulness; he trains his attention to be sharp and ever present. And through reflecting on the veracity of his thoughts, he trains them to be in line with reality and thus to fostering universal well-being.
Thought and reflection
In the Dvedavitakka Sutta the Buddha says;
‘Whatever a monk keeps pursuing[2] with his thinking and reflecting, that becomes the inclination of his mental states and emotions (his citta)’[3]
We probably all know the idea that the more we think about a certain idea, we dig a groove in our mind that makes that thought a habit. The Buddha warns the Kalama people about adopting ideas just because:
- They have heard them repeatedly
- They have been handed down in a tradition or lineage
- Of hearsay
- They see a scripture as authority
- Of sophistry or logical inference
- Of prolonged consideration
- Of getting carried away by a view they identify with [alternatively, ‘nor on indulgence in the pleasure of speculation’]
- Someone made a plausible impression on them [alternatively, ‘nor on (something that) looks plausible’]
- They have respect for a certain spiritual teacher[4]
He says only when they know in their own hearts that these ideas lead to well-being and not suffering should they adopt them.
The above list indicates that the reason why we adopt one idea over another is often due more down to habit, emotion or association than to conscious examination of whether it is a wholesome idea.
Vitakka and vicara
There are two Buddhist terms in use here that are associated with thought: vitakka (Pali; Sanskrit: vitarka) and vicara (Pali and Sanskrit). In my view they are best translated primarily as thinking and reflecting,[5] (but also as they refer to images, as envisioning and imagining). Although some argue that the terms are synonymous, where both mean thinking,[6] and some argue that in the first dhyana they are each concerned with attention,[7] there is reason to think otherwise: Vitakka represents the capacity of the mind to turn towards a view; Vi- means ‘split or separate’ (as in di-vi-de), and the Pali takka ‘to turn’, being related to the English word torque. Vitakka is the faculty which isolates one view from all other views and turns the mind towards it; it is essentially pivotal to the process of holding a view. For example, we frequently turn our mind to the things we believe will make us happy—like relationships, status and possessions.
Or, when we are dealing with images, we isolate one image from all other images and hold it in our mind as important or significant—as when our mind is transfixed by an advertising campaign.
Vicara is the process of thinking about those objects and ideas,[8] in the sense of examining, evaluating and considering them; through exploring the view held with vitakka from different angles, asking is it true; how does it relate to other views?[9] And when we are dealing with images it is the same, we ask ourselves is this an appropriate image to dwell on; where will dwelling on it lead us?
Vitakka and vicara are indeterminate mental factors, which means that they are not determined by being skilful or unskilful but can be either.
Unskilful reflection involves an unconscious ‘spreading out’ of the mind called prapanca (Sanskrit; Pali: papanca) or ‘mental proliferation,’ which the Buddha may have explained by stretching out the five fingers of his hand (the term panca literally means ‘five’). Prapanca is neither conscious nor directed and it usually consists of building associations and fantasies around things we like—or wish to be rid of. We might be meditating, say on cultivating loving kindness towards a friend, and our mind turns towards (vitakka) a holiday we are going to have later in the year, and we start to mentally picture about all the fun experiences we are going to have. We have forgotten about trying to increase loving kindness towards our friend and are instead increasing desire for our holiday.
Or if we are practising the enemy stage of the metta bhavana we might unconsciously begin proliferating around all the harms we feel the enemy has done to us, thus increasing our aversion towards them. In these two examples prapanca leads to the unskilful mental states of sense desire and aversion—and therefore to suffering for ourselves and others.[10]
Returning to the Dvedavitakka Sutta text above, the monk frequently turns his mind (bahulamanuvitakketi) to a wrong view—for instance, the view that material possessions will bring lasting and ultimate happiness. Holding that view, he unconsciously mulls it over (vicara as prapanca) and this inclines his mind (citta) to the relevant unskilful mental state.[11]
Vitakka and vicara are not only present in unskilful mental states—such as the hindrances, but they are also present in skilful mental states—such as the first dhyana. Skilful vicara involves the conscious ‘drawing together’ of elements in the mind that is skilful reflection, which we might represent not by stretching out the five fingers of the hand but by drawing the fingertips together into a cone. The opposite quality to proliferation is not really ‘non-proliferation’, as this term only indicates the absence of ‘spreading out’. Skilful reflection is better represented by the term decremental (as opposed to incremental), in which the noun ‘decrement’ means ‘a process of becoming smaller or shorter.’
Through reflection we reduce the number of things we are dealing with, asking the question, ‘How does each thing relates to everything else?’ ‘What is the relevance of this to the rest of my life?’ ‘How important is this really in the scheme of things?’ coming eventually to the ultimate question, ‘Does it lead to happiness or to suffering?’
Where prapanca[12] is neither conscious nor directed and usually consists of building associations and fantasies around things we like—or wish to be rid of, reflection is conscious, directed and is concerned with essences and realities. Suppose we are meditating on the breath, and our mind turns towards the holiday we are going to have later in the year. We might ask ourselves how this fantasy is relevant to building up a strong relationship with ourselves in the present moment? Or we are practising the enemy stage of the metta bhavana and we begin proliferating around the harms we feel they have done to us, we might ask ourselves how we can change what has already gone? Isn’t it better to ‘start from scratch’ with this person again? In these two examples reflection leads to the skilful mental states of contentment and loving kindness—and therefore to happiness for ourselves and others.
Here, the monk frequently turns his mind to a right view—for instance, the view that spiritual practice will bring lasting happiness. Holding that view, he consciously mulls it over (vicara as conscious reflection) and this inclines his mind to a skilful mental state.[13]
Thinking which is aimed at cultivating the truth, which involves a ‘coming together’ of disparate elements, leading to skilful mental states and therefore to a happy outcome for ourselves and others, is called reflection. Thinking that consists of associations and fantasies ‘spreading out’ about things that we like, or about things we wish to be rid of, often a string of images conditioned by our desires, leading to unskilful mental states and therefore to an unhappy outcome for ourselves and others, is called prapanca. The thinking of the first dhyana is of the former kind; spiritual rapture and happiness only arise in the first dhyana because we see a clear way to universal happiness that doesn’t involve relying on sensual experience or unskilful mental states, but instead on renunciation of sense desire and the cultivation of skilful mental states.
Mindfulness of views
As well as cultivating appropriate creative mental states, the monk pays urgent attention to his views about the way that happiness arises, abandoning those which fail the test of experience; as insight arises it manifests as a change of heart,[14] in terms of what he is interested in.
If he does all of these things then his actions of body, speech and mind will only be a source of well-being for himself and others. As a result, he will not experience any regrets about anything he has done; he will experience a clear conscience.
In dependence on morality there arises non-regret (Sanskrit: avipratisara)
Non-regret / clear conscience
Regret is a skilful mental state, in that it leads us to experience painful spiritual feeling. That pain, at the thought of the harm we have caused, in turn motivates us to confess that harm, to apologize to the person harmed and to make amends in an appropriate way.
Once we have addressed all of our regrets in this way, we will experience no more painful spiritual feeling in relation to ourselves, only painful spiritual feeling in relation to the sufferings of others to the extent that we feel compassion for them. Our conscience feels lighter, and we feel good about our life and the positive contribution that we are making, without that becoming egotistical.
An important condition for effective meditation is a clear conscience; the mind and emotions are able to move forward unhindered. And as the monk’s life becomes more and more creatively involved and he can see the tangible effects of his actions on others, this leads to a sense of satisfaction / delight.
In dependence on non-regret there arises satisfaction (pramodya)
Satisfaction / delight
Pramodya is the initial pleasurable fruit of a more ethical life. It is to be distinguished from the kind of worldly delight that we might experience when we have a pleasant sensory experience, because pramodya only arises in connection with practising the Buddhist path and seeing the beneficial result on ourselves and others. There is nothing that might weigh on our conscience that, when we sit to meditate and attain a more peaceful state, might come to the surface and disrupt that peacefulness.
Access Concentration
The weakening of the five hindrances is marked by the transition into access concentration, which is often marked by a ‘sign’, for instance, when the monk is practising the Mindfulness of Breathing, as he makes a greater effort to sharpen his awareness on the details of the breath, he might suddenly experience a feeling of ease and bliss accompanied by a luminous image.
‘While following the in-breaths and out-breaths … it is not easy to remain aware of that subtle sensation of touch caused by the respiration. Keener mindfulness is required to keep track of the breaths then. But if the meditator perseveres, one day he will feel a different sensation, a feeling of ease and happiness, and occasionally there appears before his mental eye something like a luminous star or a similar sign, which indicates that one approaches the stage of access concentration.’ [15]
This experience of luminosity in the mind is no doubt some kind of positive ‘feedback mechanism’ due to a shift taking place in the monk from an attitude of ‘world-reliance’ to ‘self-reliance.’ Once he is in access concentration, the hindrances are replaced by a subtle tendency towards dullness or excitement in relation to the object–called respectively ‘sinking’ and ‘drifting’; once these abate, he enters into the stable focus of dhyana.
The chapter goes on to explore The first dhyana.
[1] Kate Crosby and Andrew Skilton. (1995) The Bodhicaryavatara. Oxford University Press. p67.
[2] The phrase bahulamanuvitakketi means something like ‘frequent mind turning’ (bahula + manas + vitakka).
[3] In Pali: ‘Yannadeva bhikkhave bhikkhu bahulamanuvitakketi anuvicareti tatha tatha nati hoti cetaso.’ Thanissaro translates citta as ‘awareness’, but it is more accurately the monk’s mental states, which include his thoughts, emotions and attention.
[4] ‘The Buddhas Advice to the Kalamas.’ Ratnaprabha = Robin Cooper: writings on Buddhism. 22 June 2020.
https://ratnaprabha.net/2020/06/22/the-buddhas-advice-to-the-kalamas/
[5] There is debate within the Buddhist tradition concerning the precise meaning of vitakka and vicara. While they are frequently translated respectively as ‘initial thought’ and ‘sustained thought’ – where the former is understood as ‘thinking of’ and the latter as ‘thinking about’, some scholars wish to translate them as ‘initial and sustained attention’, following the logic that meditation often involves sustained attention upon the breath. However, my argument is that the true object in the mindfulness of breathing meditation is mindfulness itself: the breath is only a means to recognize how mindful one is being in any particular moment.
[6]Leigh Brasington argues that the use of these two terms does not indicate two different aspects of thinking but are an example of ‘synonymous parallelism’, a rhetorical device that occurs frequently in the Buddhist suttas, as in the phrase ‘They pervade, drench, saturate and suffuse this very body with the rapture and happiness born of seclusion (my italics).’ My question is whether treating vitakka and vicara distinctly provides greater clarity than treating them as synonymous. I argue that it does. See Brasington, L. (2015) Right Concentration. Shambhala.
[7] The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism has: Vitarka. (Pali. vitakka) In Sanskrit, ‘thoughts,’ ‘applied thought,’ or ‘applied attention.’ … Although etymologically the term contains the connotation of ‘investigation,’ vitarka is polysemous in the Buddhist lexicon and refers to a mental activity that could be present both in ordinary states of consciousness as well as during meditative absorption (dhyana). Generically, vitarka can simply denote thoughts, and specifically ‘distracted thoughts,’ as in the Vitakkasanthana Sutta. In ordinary consciousness, it is perhaps best translated as ‘applied thought’ or ‘initial application of thought’ and refers to the momentary advertence toward the chosen object of attention. Vitarka is listed in the Abhidharma as an indeterminate mental factor, because it can be employed toward either virtuous or non-virtuous ends, depending on one’s intentions and the object of one’s attention. In meditative absorption, vitarka is one of the five constituents (dhyananga) that make up the first dhyana and is perhaps best translated in that context as ‘applied attention’ or ‘initial application of attention.’ In dhyana, vitarka involves directing one’s focus onto the single chosen meditative object. According to the Pali Visuddhimagga, ‘applied attention’ is like a bee flying toward a flower, having oriented itself toward its chosen target, whereas ‘sustained attention’ (vicara) is like a bee hovering over that flower, having closer contact with and fixing itself upon the flower. ‘Vitarka.’ Buswell Jr., Robert E. The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism. Princeton University Press. Kindle Edition.
[8] The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism has: Vicara. In Sanskrit and Pali, ‘sustained thought,’ ‘sustained attention,’ ‘imagination,’ or ‘analysis.’ … Although etymologically the term contains the connotation of ‘analysis,’ vicara is polysemous in the Buddhist lexicon and refers to a mental activity that can be present both in ordinary states of consciousness and in meditative absorption (dhyana). In ordinary consciousness, vicara is ‘sustained thought,’ viz., the continued pondering of things. It is listed as an indeterminate mental factor because it can be employed toward either virtuous or non-virtuous ends, depending on one’s intention and the object of one’s attention. Vicara as a mental activity typically follows vitarka, wherein vitarka is the ‘initial application of thought’ and vicara the ‘sustained thought’ that ensues after one’s attention has already adverted toward an object. In the context of meditative absorption, vicara may be rendered as ‘sustained attention’ or ‘sustained application of attention.’ With vitarka the practitioner directs his focus toward a chosen meditative object. When the attention is properly directed, the practitioner follows by applying and continuously fixing his attention on the same thing, deeply experiencing (or examining) the object. In meditative absorption, vicara is one of the five factors that make up the first dhyana. ‘Vicara.’ Buswell Jr., Robert E. The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism. Princeton University Press. Kindle Edition.
[9] The Pali vicarati means ‘to go or move about in, to walk (a road), to wander.’ Vicara therefore means ‘investigation, examination, consideration, deliberation.’ From cara; ‘the act of going about, walking.’ Online Pali-English Dictionary.
https://dsalsrv04.uchicago.edu/cgi-bin/app/pali_query.py?qs=Carati+
[10] The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism has: Prapanca. (Pali. papanca). In Sanskrit, lit. ‘diffusion,’ ‘expansion’; viz. ‘conceptualisation’ or ‘conceptual proliferation’; the tendency of the process of cognition to proliferate the perspective of the self (atman) throughout all of one’s sensory experience via the medium of concepts. … By allowing oneself to experience sensory objects not as things-in-themselves but as concepts invariably tied to one’s own perspective, the perceiving subject then becomes the hapless object of an inexorable process of conceptual subjugation: viz., what one conceptualizes becomes proliferated conceptually throughout all of one’s sensory experience. … Everything that can be experienced in this world in the past, present, and future is now bound together into a labyrinthine network of concepts, all tied to oneself and projected into the external world as craving (trsna), conceit (mana), and wrong views (drsti), thus creating bondage to Samsara. ‘Prapanca.’ Buswell Jr., Robert E. The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism. Princeton University Press. Kindle Edition.
[11] In the text the Buddha gives examples of sense desire, ill-will and harmfulness.
[12] Prapanca: the Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism has: By systematic attention (yoniso manasikara) to the impersonal character of sensory experience and through sensory restraint (indriyasamvara), this tendency to project ego throughout the entirety of the perceptual process is brought to an end. In this state of ‘conceptual non-proliferation’ (P. nippapanca; S. nihprapanca), perception is freed from concepts tinged by this proliferating tendency, allowing one to see the things of this world as impersonal causal products that are inevitably impermanent (anitya), suffering (S. duhkha), and non-self (anatman). The preceding interpretation reflects the specific denotation of the term as explicated in Pali scriptural materials. In a Mahayana context, prapanca may also connote ‘elaboration’ or ‘superimposition,’ especially in the sense of a fanciful, imagined, or superfluous quality that is mistakenly projected on to an object, resulting in its being misperceived. Such projections are described as manifestations of ignorance (avidya); reality and the mind that perceives reality are described as being free from prapanca (nisprapanca), and the purpose of Buddhist practice in one sense can be described as the recognition and elimination of prapanca in order to see reality clearly and directly. In the Madhyamaka school, the most dangerous type of prapanca is the presumption of intrinsic existence (svabhava). In Yogacara, prapanca is synonymous with the ‘seeds’ (bija) that provide the basis for perception and the potentiality for future action. In this school, prapanca is closely associated with false discrimination (vikalpa), specifically the bifurcation of perceiving subject and perceived object (grahyagrahakavikalpa). The goal of practice is said to be a state of mind that is beyond all thought constructions and verbal elaboration. The precise denotation of prapanca has been the subject of much perplexity and debate within the Buddhist tradition, which is reflected in the varying translations for the term in Buddhist canonical languages. The standard Chinese rendering xilun means ‘frivolous debate,’ which reflects the tendency of prapanca to complicate meaningful discussion about the true character of sensory cognition. The Tibetan spros ba means something like ‘extension, elaboration’ and reflects the tendency of prapanca to proliferate a fanciful conception of reality onto the objects of perception. ‘Prapanca.’ Buswell Jr., Robert E. The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism. Princeton University Press. Kindle Edition.
[13] In the text the Buddha gives examples of renunciation, good-will and harmlessness.
[14] ‘The experience of insight is as much a ‘change of heart’ as it is a knowing of something.’ Ratnaguna and Sraddhapa. (2016) Great Faith Great Wisdom. Practice and Awakening in the Pure Land sutras of Mahayana Buddhism. Windhorse. p5.
[15] The Foundations of Mindfulness. Translated by Nyanasatta Thera. Vipassana Fellowship.
https://www.vipassana.com/meditation/foundations_of_mindfulness.html
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