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Venerable Ajahn Sucitto -
Deep Attention: Connection to Letting-Go
From an on-going
collection of articles on meditation by Ajahn Sucitto.
...Lust is slightly blameworthy, but it is slow to change.
Malice is highly blameworthy, but it is quick to change.
Delusion is highly blameworthy, and it is slow to change...
For someone who does not attend deeply, delusion arises;
or if it has already arisen, tends to strengthen and spread.
Anguttara Nikaya, Threes, 68.
On-going cultivation is a process, involving our own personal attitudes
as they occur in a living context. In life, we all accumulate habits:
and our behaviour and lifestyles develop according to our attitudes and
sensitivities. These habits are kamma. Kamma determines both how we are
affected and how we respond -- the crucial aspect of how we are and how
we live, so it's important to come to terms with, purify and be awakened
to this process.
We may, for example, be quite sensitive to having our own private space
and react quite strongly to what we sense as intrusion: even when the
'intruder' is operating from a helpful motivation. The 'intruder' on the
other hand, might be attuned to needing to be useful, or sense our
independence as lonely. Or maybe we come across as remote and
stand-offish. All kinds of emotional dissonances occur between people
whose sensitivities are set at different levels of sociability, or
otherwise read situations in very different ways. The 'setting' of
awareness -- how we're affected and how we respond -- has been brought
around through the approval or disapproval of others, or through our own
ease or stress, pleasure or pain. Basically we have learned to interpret
and steer through feeling the feed-back from what we do and how we
respond. This is vipaka, old kamma: pleasure and pain form the initial
take on things. How we subsequently attend and how we act or react are
based on that initial impression And their aim is to arrive at feeling
good. So impression -- how something strikes us -- attention and aim are
all bound up with mental feeling. Action -- even thinking -- is then the
result. So one basis of how we act and lay down new kamma is feeling, as
it triggers a conditioned emotional process.
The other basis for emotion is perception (sañña) -- how an event or
phenomenon is 'marked.' Like feeling, this varies: a topic that is clear
and straightforward to one person is precarious, even threatening, to
another; one person may feel compelled to respond to a situation that
another barely perceives or considers to be of minor significance.
Furthermore, any resultant activity -- willing, dutiful, or marked with
aversion -- gets based on assumptions: such as 'it's up to me to do
this', or 'it's someone else's business.' All these are the markings of
perception. Perception is also bound up with personal kamma: no two
people's take on things, or response is exactly the same; yet we
interact and attempt to live harmoniously with others. Further
misunderstanding occurs because, no matter how glaring and deliberately
motivated our emotional settings may seem to others, we are not fully
aware of them ourselves. They have been set by feeling, rather than
deliberate design, and so just seem 'normal.'
Meditation helps us to get a profile of the parameters that our
awareness operates through. We recognise what happens when we receive an
impression: such as feeling overwhelmed, lost, confident, or responsible
-- these familiar kammic patterns give rise to the sense of a self 'in
here.' Based on that, our attention reacts in terms of its program --
anything from evading or fudging the issue, to lingering over and
feeding on the impression, to letting it go, to blaming ourself or
others; or feeling on top of it all. Dependent on this, we then more
deliberately respond, in terms of thoughts, or react with further
perceptions and emotions. Our awareness is affected by all this and
again resonates in terms of its kammic parameters. So a meditation
period can be pretty active! And yet rather than moving out of our
habits, we can wind ourselves up into a contracted and pressurised
state. Faced with this, we may try to calm down and curtail the
emotional turbulence, but that doesn't bring around a release from the
parameters of our sensitivies and perceptions Fuller liberation requires
entering the territory of feeling and perception and freeing up the
boundaries that they set.
This takes care and training because the boundaries that are set on our
awareness were useful, even necessary, in their time -- our immediate
reactions were set to protect us from pain and loss -- they can't be
dismantled without understanding and carefully allaying that buried
pain. So this is not an easy process. Furthermore, feeling is something
that we seem to have no control over -- it just happens. Perception is
also an immediate 'take' on what's going on. These are bound up with our
affect/response system, so how can it be overhauled?
The contemplative answer is not in adjusting the feeling itself, but
being able to hold the feeling with mindfulness. The second foundation
of mindfulness is mindfulness of feeling. In this, the Buddha's
instructions in brief are: to feel the feeling just as a feeling.
Curtail the reaction that comes from it; avoid conceptual proliferation
and analysis of the perception that accompanies it: feel the feeling
just as a feeling. Give it room to move and change. Then, if we
accomplish this, we may realise that the perception that is affecting us
is from wrong attunement: actually there isn't a threat here, someone is
merely inquiring from concern, not attempting to take over and control
us. Or, what is presented as exciting and desirable is actually void of
lasting benefit. However, it's counter-productive to add more
disapproval or approval to our impulses -- that just adds more stuff to
the mix; no, it's more instructive to feel the affect and contemplate
the response. With mindfulness of feeling, fear and desire take us to
the object of our meditation. But rather than be guided by them, we
learn to feel the feeling that they come from.
Trying to get a sense of where to start with all this requires an
overview. Our affect and response patterns go pretty deep. What are the
priorities? What are the most fundamental aims? What are the results of
our contemplative activities? In Buddhist practice the goal is clear:
more fundamental than even understanding or becoming a 'better' person,
is the aim to end any suffering and stress. This will come about not by
trying to change the way we are, but by being mindful of ourselves as a
process that changes dependent on how we attend. And in setting up
mindfulness, the Buddha considered a factor called 'deep attention' (yoniso
manasikara) to be an invaluable asset.
Attending deeply is a process that uses thought, but in a catalytical
way. It doesn't take long to realise that one can't trust discursive
thinking, but directed thought and evaluation does train the mind to get
to the point rather than wander off. So we may deliberately reflect on a
topic of personal concern, the events of the day, or of our aspirations
or our practice. However, the deepening comes through witnessing the
emotions that hold these perceptions in place. Then, when a pattern is
discerned in that holding, to sense how awareness is affected right
there. So we may be thinking about a relative, the overall 'hold' of the
perception is one of regret, and in awareness there is a contracting
which we sense as loss, and an unsettled agitation. It feels unpleasant,
so there's a tension in the mind to get rid of or fix that feeling. But
if we feel the feeling just as a feeling, we don't have to contend with
it. We don't have to explain it, or go into the story that accompanies
it. It is what it is, it has as much right to be here as anything else.
With this, the tension subsides, and there is some stillness. The relief
of that stillness feels good. The good feeling releases our awareness
from its old settings (of guilt, worry, or whatever) and that makes us
feel buoyant and confident. From that place we may decide to visit the
relative or write a meaningful letter, and that feels right and genuine.
A response has occurred that is fresh and uncontrived.
So we begin with the material of deliberate thought, in which the
deliberation is neutral or inquiring. The thought is then cleaned of its
kammic intention: it becomes a sense object like a sound or a taste; in
itself it has no motivation except to sustain attention on the mood, to
get a clear overview. To get the overview, we don't attempt to fix,
release, calm, or suppress. We go to the very hold of attention, the
mood beneath the thought and let the attention generate an aware space
around that. The hold will always be contracted in some way: uptight, or
flat and numb, or excited. It will generally demand action: even if it
is the seductive plea to dull out these thoughts in activity or sleep.
However, the primary layer of the emotional core of a problem is just
what holding itself feels like. It is this very 'stuckness' that must
first of all be accommodated.
Deep attention can go wrong if it is not systematic -- we jump in, or
push forward into emotional currents with the idea of 'getting to the
root of all this' -- only to find ourselves overwhelmed. The systematic
training is to start with just being able to hold the problem mindfully,
and then attend to the first, peripheral, level of the tangle. Rather
like untying a knot-- we first soften the periphery. Let directed
thought and evaluation provide a reference -- 'the mood feels tight,
hard' and then inquire into that mood, as to what it needs or where it
is. Bodily reference provides the firm ground. What does it feel like in
the body? And where? In the chest, head or belly? What do these places
need?
These suggestions induce an open benevolence, rather than a 'sort this
out' mentality. Something in us has probably had enough of 'being sorted
out' and has learnt to shut out those kinds of ploys. So rather than any
further drive, can we attend to stuckness with a heart of kindness and
compassion? Can we come from a place in ourselves that feels good and
stable and attend from there? Can we attend without wanting anything to
be different, but allowing full knowing to attune to our welfare in the
present moment? Then the simple theme of the practice is to do nothing
but attend.
When mindfulness rests on a level beneath our normal patterns of mental
behaviour, what can arise is a realisation of an awareness that is
receptive but not reactive. Based upon its stability, we might call it
presence. There is a spaciousness about this kind of 'knowing,' an
emotional openness and clarity that impart a sense of trust; moods such
as inexplicable joy or compassion may arise, in the midst of
circumstances that a moment ago were stultifying. In this shift, we
notice that attention is now holding in a very different way: there may
be a settling-back (viveka) and dispassion (viraga) that allows us
discernment -- and perhaps some humour. We recognise that circumstances
are changeable and unstable -- and that truth refers also to our own
emotional bases. And we may realise that attention can let go by itself
if we attend deeply and without agendas. In this way, mindfulness and
full knowing realises that an emotional behaviour pattern is not 'mine.'
We have connected to the space that knows letting go.
So with deep attention and mindfulness we penetrate the emotional
patterns; then we can attend to what actually is affected. This is the
domain of the third foundation of mindfulness, mindfulness of affective
awareness, with its un-socialised surges and relaxations: 'he knows the
awareness affected by lust as awareness affected by lust; and awareness
unaffected by lust as awareness unaffected by lust...contracted
awareness as contracted awareness...exalted awareness as exalted
awareness ...concentrated awareness as concentrated
awareness...liberated awareness as liberated awareness.' If this can be
fully penetrated without adding to it, closing it down or moving away,
awareness can be released from its parameters. What are they? Whereas
affect and response are set by feeling and perception, awareness is set
by a view: that of self-interest. What's in this experience for me? Can
I have this? Do I move away from this or reach out for it? If these
parameters can be relaxed, the disturbances in awareness cease.
Deep attention gives us an entry into this level also. It offers an
angle, or presents a view, that we can then take into meditation. It
gives us a chance to come out of self-view. This view is the peripheral
or 'background' assumption that holds the content of greed, aversion --
or happiness and peace. Very often this view manifests voices such as
'the inner critic,' 'the escapist dreamer,' or 'the idealistic seeker.'
Of course in their way, the endless self-blaming and demanding that we
be different or life be different from how things are have their points.
And so does the 'good-time' voice that says we should just relax and not
get so intense. But it's a matter of taking the compulsive 'I am,' 'I
should have,' 'you ought to be,' out of our attention. Who is this?
Who's telling who how things should be? Then we contemplate the very
'shaping' and 'texture' of awareness as: contracted... expanded...
agitated... still. 'It's like this.' This realisation lets go of
awareness -- it's not 'me.' Then an intuitive wisdom can arise to
respond to things specifically as they are.
So we train to contemplate systematically, layer under layer -- the
restless worry about the uncertainty over how to deal with the aversion
-- first going to the outer layer which contains it all, which may not
have been recognised. Maybe the whole thing is held in aversion, or an
unwillingness to deal with the topic; the tightness of trying to close
it all down. But rather than attempt to open it all up, create an
attentive space around the attempt to close down... get a sense for
that. Maybe there's some fear: is it OK to be with that, just for a
while? Remember just to empathise; don't do. Let any shift happen, and
any suggestions come after the shift into intuitive space.
. . . o o 0 o o . . .
Establish a supportive bodily presence: a sense of uprightness, an axis
that centres around the spine. Connect to the ground beneath and the
space above and around the body. Acknowledge sitting within a space,
taking all the time and space that you need, and letting the body feel
that permission. Open the body sense through feeling the breathing:
first in the abdomen, allowing the breath to descend like a stone
through the soft tissues... feel the flexing of the breath mirrored by
the effortless release and firming of the abdomen in respiration.
Attend to the upper body, consciously dropping the shoulders and opening
the connecting tissues between the upper arms and the main trunk... feel
the breathing flexing the chest, giving all the space that is needed.
Open the head by relaxing the jaw and settling the tongue in the floor
of the mouth. As if you were removing a scarf, or unbuttoning a collar,
let the neck feel free and the throat open. Feel the breathing move
through the throat from the throat notch, up through the back of the
mouth and out through the nose and mouth. Give the quality of attention
that allows all that to be evenly felt... Then check where the back of
the skull meets the neck, to sense if any attitudes are tightening
there. Even good attitudes, like determination... let the purity of
attention and sincerity of heart express that while keeping the body
soft. Repeat this in terms of checking the eyes, the forehead and the
temples. Trust the purity, attune to that rather than will power. Enrich
the purity with an attention that is giving rather than holding.
As you establish this body reference, settle into it, checking in with
the specific points from time to time. If you feel unsettled -- snagging
flurries or sags of energy or mood -- draw attention down your back to
the ground, allowing the front of the body to flex freely with the
breathing. Refer to the 'descending breath' -- down through the abdomen
-- if you feel bustling or uptight. Attune to the 'rising breath' -- up
through the chest and throat -- if you feel buried or flat.
Using these references, gradually step out of your world of functions,
events and relationships, and into the space of embodied awareness...
all the time in the world to be just this...
Meet an aspect of your daily world. Allow an element of all that to
arise into awareness... and contemplate the effect in terms of embodied
awareness. The 'so much to do'; the 'I really need this'; the 'nobody
listens to me...' sense how the emotion moves energy in bodily terms.
Re-connecting to, or sustaining, the open embodied awareness sense the
pull of that emotionally triggered awareness... which area of the body
is effected and what the pull represents as an emotional or
psychological response. There may be a familarity to the sense of that
response... tightness or trembling... maybe fear, irritation, or
despair. Let the breathing and the giving flex through that. Acknowledge
all that arises... let it flow. Feel the feeling as a feeling only,
holding it in the body with a giving attention.
Carefully repeat this with that aspect of your world until you feel that
something has shifted in your response, or that it has given you a key
to deeper understanding. Compassion towards the response may arise,
something that relieves you from aggravating, defending or burying it.
Spend such time as you wish allowing different aspects of your world to
arise; layering that with times spent out in embodied awareness in
itself. There may seem to be no end to your world, but that 'no end' is
part of the sense of the world to practise with. Allow yourself to park
the many topics and issues after a reasonable time, taking leave with
the intention to return to these at another time.
Return through the body: the central core, the tissues wrapped around
that, the skin around that, the space around all that. Slowly open your
eyes, attuning to the space, and the sense of the place that you're
sitting in.
Forest Sangha Newsletter: July 2002, Number 61
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