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Venerable Ajahn Medhanandi -
Sitting on the Dhamma
Egg
This path
of liberating the heart is a spiritual ladder we ascend step by step. We
cannot skip a single rung lest we lose our footing and fall. As we
climb, our stamina, commitment, and faith are tested in ways that are
sometimes subtle, sometimes fiery. Nor do the obstacles vanish further
up. The higher we climb, the more the challenges appear to intensify,
even to the point where we may lose heart. But never give up!
At the end of a recent retreat, almost everyone reported experiencing
some level of pain and anxiety during their meditation. There was
nothing wrong with their practice. They simply witnessed the truth of
the human condition. Being stretched beyond our limits opens us to the
miraculous. And if we hope to grow and mature in wisdom, we have to be
willing to do the groundwork that will ready us for the trials to come.
The scriptures liken a spiritual aspirant dedicated to the work of
awakening to a hen incubating her eggs. (nava sutta, sn 22.101) Sitting
on them, she creates the right conditions for her chicks to hatch. She
can't speed up the process by cracking open each egg and pouring out the
contents. The baby chick emerges only when all the necessary conditions
are ripe. Patience is everything. Then, at the right moment, the chick
pecks through the shell. Likewise, if we rightly develop the Noble
Eightfold Path, we are bound to succeed as long as we fulfil all the
factors needed to awaken.
No matter how sincere or steadfast, the student who fails to qualify
will not graduate. In the same way, those who commit violent crimes
cannot benefit fully from this teaching. When King Ajatasattu and his
retinue of five hundred chariots arrived at Jivaka's mango grove, he
became alarmed at the sight of the Buddha meditating with 1250
bhikkhus. Once he appreciated the profundity of their silence, he
prostrated and sat down to receive the teaching.
Sadly, the Buddha's discourse would do little to spare the king from the
weight of his karmic debt, having mercilessly imprisoned his own father
and starved him to death. When Ajatasattu departed, the Buddha told the
monks, "He's doomed," meaning he would spend eons in hell realms.
We are wiser than this king of ancient times. We aim to live according
to ethical principles, and are fortunate enough to be able and willing
to listen to this teaching, understand it, and practise. Our Dhamma
tools guide us: precepts, techniques for concentration, and ways to
uplift faith, clear the mind, and balance effort.
Awakening demands an impeccable moral standard – beyond mere etiquette
or the agility to tiptoe mindfully from room to room. For the spiritual
seeker, conventional sila that restrains conduct and speech does
not go far enough. We must raise the bar of the mind's abiding through
meticulous care of our thoughts. And work with greater earnestness than
the fizzled effort typical of exercise regimes. We have to train like a
marathon runner.
How much energy do we dissipate each day idly distracted? There are so
many lost moments in life resulting from poor mind states. We may not be
violent or aggressive but underneath the veneer of smug composure, our
thoughts sometimes betray us. If we slacken in our integrity, we may
lose the stability of heart to reel them in. We are even more vulnerable
when things go awry. Unaware of threads of negativity unravelling inside
us, we may suddenly turn aggressive and say or do something we regret.
For good or ill, intention precedes every action or choice we make. So
to avoid the reefs of greed, aggression, pride, or confusion, steer
well. A reliable compass to navigate us out of the morass of impure mind
states is Right Intention and its able twins, vitakka and
vicara, applied and sustained thought.
Vitakka works like the lens of a telescope. It aims, directs, and
focuses the mind on one object. So we begin by channelling our attention
instead of allowing the mind to wander aimlessly. Then, piercing thought
with undivided attention, vicara takes over. Fixing it to
investigate microscopically and evaluate what we see, we train ourselves
to inquire continually, "What am I thinking?"
Together, vitakka and vicara help us implement the
Buddha's advice on five ways to abandon distracted or unskilful
thoughts. (vitakkasanñhana sutta, mn 20) First, they capitalise on the
mind's ability to devote exclusive attention to one thing. Using skilful
thoughts to displace impure ones, we free the mind to turn to, and rest
in, purity. Just as loving-kindness drives out ill-will, or a "skilled
carpenter or apprentice might knock out, remove, or extract a coarse peg
by means of a fine one". Then the mind grows stable, silent,
single-pointed, and concentrated.
Second, just as a youth fond of ornaments would be "horrified,
humiliated and disgusted if the carcass of a snake, or a dog, or a human
being were hung around his neck", seeing the danger, the wrong, or the
suffering caused by indulging in and paying heed to unwholesome
thoughts, we are compelled to remove them. And we vigilantly sweep them
out.
Should these fail, the Buddha suggests more robust measures such as
ignoring impure thoughts the way we shut our eyes to avert a terrible
sight. Or pacifying and settling the mind so that it ceases to churn out
thoughts and cools. As a last resort, with "teeth clenched and tongue
pressed against the roof of the mouth" we can "beat down, constrain, and
crush mind with mind" to try to suppress stubborn thoughts that continue
to harangue us.
Such heroic efforts not to harbour anger or hostility may seem
exaggerated. You might think, "It's just a whisper in the mind. I'm not
hurting anyone." But we hurt ourselves because this invisible internal
dynamic contaminates our intentions and eventually spills over to infect
our lives. Leaving our thoughts unchecked, before we know it, we lash
out at someone.
Yet many of us remain unmoved. We don't take the time to train in these
ways. What do you do when you wake up? Do you meditate? Or do you
procrastinate and then 'forget' because there's something more
interesting to do, or find you're suddenly too 'busy'? It becomes harder
to set aside those few moments to meditate. It is the same with acts of
compassion. Caught up with life, we believe that we can't help or choose
not to see when someone is in need. What meaning can our lives have if
we are unable to dedicate ourselves to goodness?
Just as plants need light to grow, when complacency, laziness, weakness,
or desire set in, cultivating awareness removes their dark influence.
Set aside time to stop and be with yourself. Whenever you notice
negative thinking, apply the antidotes: loving-kindness to drive out
malice; compassion to destroy cruelty; joyful empathy to crush jealousy;
and equanimity to stabilize mental agitation.
There will be times when we're too upset or obsessed, fraught with worry
or derailed by loss to practise. Even though you close your eyes and
resolve to pay attention, or try to overcome desire with wise or calming
reflections, nothing happens. Loving-kindness and compassion remain
elusive. In such situations, trying to radiate loving-kindness by
repeating the formulaic phrases, "May I be well, may I be happy" is more
likely to drive you crazy.
There is no automatic switch to force joy into the heart. With all our
intentions to be kind, in seemingly innocuous, unconscious moments we
can end up being insensitive or callous. We're not bad because we don't
pay attention or have angry thoughts. They are a natural karmic
repercussion of an untrained mind. But unless we consciously cultivate
the antidotes, we will habitually dwell in impoverished mental states.
So how can we conjure genuine feelings of empathy, forgiveness, and
tolerance? No matter how angry or frustrated we are, abandon those
negative thoughts, knowing that holding on to them is like grasping a
poisonous snake. Seeing anger, frustration, or any mood of the mind as
impermanent as a storm, let it arise and cease with forgiveness, not
allowing it to overwhelm us.
The Buddha did not give us impossible instructions. We just don't follow
them consistently. Understanding the nature of harmful thoughts and the
danger of being caught in them, we must reject, ignore, silence, or
drive them out of consciousness before they harm us. Gradually, we find
safe refuge within. When we miss a step, rather than beat ourselves up
and spin more negativity, we simply take up the slack and renew our
efforts to live with assiduous mindfulness.
We don't have to be in our 80's or 90's to feel samvega, the
urgency to practise. Life is uncertain. There is no way to predict or
control how many years we have left to purify ourselves. So we can't
afford to sit back casually and let the practice unfold as it will. Once
we realise the truth of our own mortality, we act on that natural
longing to be free from the cycle of birth and death.
While meditating in Burma as a young nun, with my first insight into the
transitory nature of life, I was overcome with fervour to end desire and
delusion once and for all – and I wanted it instantly.
Rushing to see my teacher, in my excitement I bowed as respectfully as I
could and announced, "Sayadaw, I want to teach Dhamma." He chuckled and
asked what I had experienced. When I explained, he gave a brief
discourse on the six temperaments of those who practise. "You're the
angry type," he declared. "No, I am not!" I protested.
Bursting with samvega to free my heart, I could hardly contain
myself. There was so much fire there – the anger of lifetimes. But this
encounter humbled me – coming before the master and receiving his clear
reflection. "You're still caught in it: greed, hatred, and delusion. Go
back to your practice."
We cannot change just by wishing our untrained habits away. Nor can we
wish ourselves into enlightenment. We need to sustain an unshakeable
commitment and work hard, with simplicity and devotion, adeptly using
the tools we have honed. Diligence – not just in meditating but in
mindful and wise reflection in daily life – is generosity to ourselves.
So when we are at work, shopping, or scrubbing a pot, we ask, "Where is
the mind? Who's scrubbing? What am I thinking?"
Standing in a room, feel the pressure of your feet on the floor. Sitting
in a temple, feel the energy in the body, the contact with the cushion,
the space above your head. Come back to each moment. Throughout the day,
pay attention to familiar touch points – putting on shoes, walking
though a door, turning on a light. Because at each point we choose, for
that moment we are aware, present, awake.
Then, a minute later, the mind is off again. Thinking, wandering,
distracted. Keep returning to the body, using the mind's strengths, and
knowing its weaknesses. Train to see the contents of consciousness –
mental objects and the mind that knows them. That's all! We look at
awareness and the activity that takes place in awareness.
Here and now we commit to being the Buddha, to seeing the Dhamma. We
fill the mind with brightness and cultivate friendly thoughts, beautiful
thoughts, thoughts that liberate us from the heart's torturous
labyrinths and contractions to rest in its boundless purity. We treasure
that vast, interior quiet because it brings us a sense of connection and
well-being. Reconciled within instead of broken and separate, we don't
just heal ourselves. We heal each other, and the world.
Do not be led astray by thoughts. So many beings live in chaos, fear,
and confusion, unable to hear or understand let alone apply this
teaching to their lives. So when you leave here and walk out the door,
as you reach for it, check, "Where is my mind? What am I thinking?"
This is difficult to sustain but it is possible. Then, when someone who
irritates us appears, we won't snap at them. We won't be rude, unkind,
or condescending. We will see them as brother or sister on the Path – a
spiritual colleague. Why? Because we are both human beings subject to
birth, old age, sickness, and death. So ask, "How can I be present for
this person? Compassionate? Forgiving?"
Such thinking conditions skilful mind-states and a kindness that redeems
us at every turn. One step leads to another. Then, before long, the work
begins to happen more naturally and spontaneously. When conditions
ripen, the egg breaks. The little chick cracks through its shell,
tumbles out, and is free.
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