Excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma,” by Ajahn Sucitto

Once you’ve established a good foundation for meditation, you can pay attention to breathing in and breathing out. To be clear and attentive to breathing through the period of one whole inhalation and one whole exhalation and on to the next in a sustained way, reveals and unravels compulsive mind-states. Thus freed, the citta’s full potential can be realized; this is a powerful practice.

You can enter this practice by using a mantra such as ‘Buddho’, thinking ‘Bud-’ as you breathe in, so that the syllable extends over the entirety of that bodily process. Then do the same with ‘-dho’ on the out-breath. You can also initiate evaluation by adding the questions: ‘How do I know I am breathing?’ And then: ‘How is that?’ Use just enough to keep the mind engaged; you don’t need a lot of thinking – you just need to engage its receptive aspect. You may then notice that the direct experience of breathing arises as a sense of swelling, tightening and subsiding in the upper body as a whole. And sense it as a rhythmic flow of sensations and flushes. Of these, the most obvious aspects are the purely physical ones – for example, the repeated swelling of the chest or the abdomen, and the tightening and relaxing of the skin. More refined than these is the flow of air through the nose and down the back of the throat. And there’s also the subtle energetic effect: as you breathe in, you get a brightening effect, and as you breathe out, you get a quiet, calming effect. These are three strata of breath experience. Given time, you can discern them all.

The energetic effect is even discernible in non-breathing parts such as the face, hands and even the legs. This energy is intelligent. It seems to know what to do; so, you can relax. If the mind doesn’t interfere, breathing settles and calms by itself. Even when you’re asleep or distracted, this intelligent system takes care of itself. And if you can connect your mind and heart to it, this involuntary flow of brightening and soothing energy brightens and calms the citta.

Don’t force a tight focus. The Buddha doesn’t mention focusing on one point in the body, or even on the breath; rather, he speaks more in terms of being receptive to the kāya-saṇkhāra, the overall process of breathing. The discourse on mindfulness of breathing simply instructs: ‘Know you’re breathing in, and know you’re breathing out.’ So, the recommendation is just to be aware of the ‘in-out’, the rhythm. To me that’s significant, because rhythm has a heart effect. Every musician, every parent rocking a baby, knows that. If focusing feels tense, try receiving the rhythm – say the slight swell in the chest, or even the belt around your waist tightening and loosening; it should be something that keeps coming back so it is easily noted. So be aware of the body as a pattern of repeated sensations that occur with the breathing. When you pick up the repetitive quality, you’ll discern the energy, because that’s the source of that flowing vitality.

The training is to get simple. Give yourself whatever time you need to simplify – this alone reverses the trends of a lifetime. And when you lose focus, don’t make a problem out of it. That could turn another citta habit around. So just notice when you’ve drifted off, and at that point ask: ‘What’s happening with breathing right now?’ Then pick up whatever sensation comes to the fore connected with breathing. That makes the practice accessible. You’re probably shifting ingrained programs just by not pushing. Then, as you get lighter and simpler, the rest of the practice follows.

As your mind tunes in, you can refine the process by attuning to the full length of the breath. This gets you in touch with the ending of an out-breath, with its release and stillness; and with the complete fullness and stillness at the completion of an inhalation. This steady moving in and out of stillness is an aspect of bodily energy that we often miss out on in our normal way of life. But giving yourself the time to attune to the breathing allows you to be with that movement. And as you train ‘thoroughly sensitive to the entire body, breathing in … breathing out’, you attune to the body’s energies as they brighten, refresh and relax. This represents an important shift of attention from the rational or visual bases that normally dominate our lives. The sense-base of the body is highly sensitive and responsive: when I touch something, it touches me. So, when that contact is easeful, there is a sense of trust. And when one trusts, the energy relaxes, and the heart brightens. Hence, being in touch with breathing brings sensitivity and relaxation: bright kamma.

This gives rise to somatic and emotional effects: one feels deeply relaxed and refreshed. This is the experience of rapture (pīti), a buoyant and refreshed state, and ease (sukha). Rapture and ease carry the sense of being in the flow with something. It’s not just that one is doing good, but that good things are happening. As we pick up the sense of that, the citta and the body become calm and the breathing gets softer, and the combined effects permeate the entire system. The thinking mind, the heart, and the body come together, and their unification is both bright and calm. That’s samādhi, or ‘right concentration’.

Samādhi is richer than the concentration that we might develop for solving problems, or when being absorbed in entertainment. These pursuits work by flooding rather than training attention: you don’t develop much skill in sensitizing and handling your programs when you’re watching the World Cup! Samādhi is a conscious consolidation of bodily, conceptual and heart energy, brought around by applying the mind, and keeping the entire conscious system alert, sensitive and contained. The right kind of consolidation depends on modifying intention and attention: you have to learn how to encourage interest, how to appreciate, how to let go, and how to enjoy. Learning these skills alone is a good enough reason to practise.

To recap: with bringing to mind and evaluation, one both primes and guides the attention with appropriate prompts. Ordinary discursive thinking generally makes the body feel more hard-edged or agitated, notably in the hands or the face (the ‘do-it’ parts of the body), or in the diaphragm (the ‘brace yourself’ area of the body). If these occur, ask: ‘How is my entire body now?’ to release the grip; then, when things feel balanced: ‘Where is the breathing now? What if I wait for the next out-breath, and just let that flow through the whole body?’ Letting the breathing happen by itself takes time and skill.

In the case of repetitive, obsessive thoughts, you might relate the thinking to the heart: there might be a sense of hurt beneath the complaining of the thoughts; or a giddy whirl that’s connected to a great idea. The unpleasant or pleasant feeling has to be attuned to, met, and opened around. Then: ‘Can I be with this feeling?’ So you stop fighting it or believing in it. Rather than analyse and scold yourself for wandering off again (‘how many times …!’ etc.) – just pause. You might benefit from a sympathetic inner voice: ‘How am I? May I be well …’ If the thoughtfulness is simple and caring, it can bear with and perhaps discharge the push of the feeling. Or you might ask: ‘Am I settled in terms of my body?’ And, as you feel the whole body settle down, at some time ask: ‘Why not flow with the breathing for now?’ It takes responsive clarity to bring the mind out of hankering and criticising, or being blanketed by drowsiness, worry or doubt.

As attention is steered into an unhindered source of energy, the heart can linger and enjoy. There can be a radiant, uplifting effect as the breath-energy permeates the entire body. The hard edges and stiffness of the body dissolve and the body is sensed more as an energetic field. Ease then stabilizes attention within that to counteract any giddiness or apprehension. When this develops as an enduring effect, it gives rise to the state of absorption (jhāna).

Continued next week, 10 October 2024